A D R I A N

The sensor beeps again, soft, almost polite but my body doesn’t care. I drag Elara behind me, instinct louder than thought. The aide is shaking so hard the steel counter rattles under him. Footsteps glide down the hall, too smooth, too sure. Someone who knows where the blind spots are.

“Elara,” I whisper, not turning because if I see her fear, I’ll lose my mind. “Stay close.” Her fingers touch my back, barely anything, just heat through my shirt and it pulls something tight and stupid in my chest. I should chase the shadow slipping away, should pin them to the wall, demand answers..

The fire alarm explodes, red strobes flash, sprinklers cough uselessly, half of them spitting air, the other half dripping like they’re as panicked as the aide was. Smoke curls down the hallway.

Elara grabs my arm. “Adrian..there’s a fire.” and suddenly the vault break-in is just the first domino. Smoke threads toward us from the banquet courtyard. Not thick yet, but wrong, sharp, chemical and electrical.

“Elara, stay here,” I say automatically. She doesn’t even bother answering. She’s already scanning the air, her brow tightening. “Someone planned this. The vault, the shadow, now this..”

I know. The aide bolts past us, coughing. Ethan’s voice hits the radio: “Unidentified male just ran out the east doors when the alarm tripped.”

I grab Elara’s hand and run. Smoke grows heavier with every step, two staff stumble out of the courtyard, hacking.

“What happened?” I demand.

“Sparks at the food station,” one chokes. “Extinguisher wouldn’t fire..” Elara is already on her knees between them, pressing table linens over their mouths, steadying their breaths. Her voice is low, firm: “Slow inhales. Don’t panic.” Guests gather, filming like idiots.

“Move back,” I bark. “Give her air.” They do, not because of me but because they’re watching her. Smoke pulses harder from the courtyard. A sharp crack follows, the kind that makes my stomach drop.

“Electrical,” I mutter. Elara meets my eyes. “We need to see what’s happening before this escalates.” and before I can stop her, she dives straight into the smoke and of course I follow. Heat hits first, wet and suffocating. The courtyard is a gray blur of half-dead lanterns and a growing flame chewing through a draped tablecloth, but it’s not the cloth that’s the problem.

A breaker box hangs open on the far wall, wires spitting sparks like someone fed them gasoline and prayer.

“Elara..careful,” I warn. She tears a fire blanket off its hook, throws her body weight into smothering the edge of the flame. It hisses, angry, smoking against her arms.

“Adrian… fans,” she coughs. I don’t argue,  I slam open the wall panel and override the safety. Ventilation thunders to life, dragging smoke toward the ceiling.

“Anyone down?” she calls as she presses the blanket harder. I scan fast, chairs overturned, food trays melted into the floor, but no bodies. “Clear!”

The blanket finally chokes out the flame. Elara leans on it for one heartbeat, chest heaving, then straightens like the fire never touched her.

“Evacuate anyone dizzy. Oxygen for anyone coughing up gray,” she says, voice tight. A cluster of guests barges in.

“Back out,” she snaps, pointing. “Unless you want to pass out too.” And they listen to her instantly. Her eyes flick back to the breaker box. “Adrian… this wasn’t an accident.” No. It was a message.

Smoke thins as the fans pull it upward, revealing the mess more clearly. The drapes nearest the wiring are charred. A fuse box looks like someone took a screwdriver to it with intent like someone wanted this to go wrong. Elara wipes soot off her cheek with the back of her wrist. Her hands shake for a second, just a second but she hides it faster than I can swallow the fear rising in me.

“We need to get people out before the system overloads again,” she says. “And Adrian… that breaker didn’t fail on its own.”

I nod, jaw locked so hard it aches. I untangle the fire blanket from the metal. She burns her fingers on a live wire and hisses under her breath, quiet, but I hear it like a shot.

I grab her wrist before she can pull away. “Don’t push past your limits.”

“Someone tried to trap someone in here,” she snaps back. “Limits don’t matter.” It guts me, how much she cares. How much she risks without thinking twice. How quickly she runs toward danger instead of away from it. Outside the courtyard, staff hover and half-panicked. Elara steps past me and raises her voice. “If you’re short of breath, move to the clinic. If you’re dizzy, sit down now. Don’t pretend you’re fine.” They listen again. Like she’s the rightful heir to this place, not me.

I look at the smoking breaker and feel it deep in my ribs, violent and personal: Someone tried to hurt her in my resort under my name. I clench my fists, if I find out who— No.
When.

The courtyard finally steadies, smoke thinning, alarms echoing down the halls like ghosts refusing to leave. Staff cluster near the doors, pale and rattled. Elara stands in the middle of it all, hair askew, soot streaked across her cheek, breath still a little shaky… but she looks like the center of gravity, like the fucking sun.

“Dr. Quinn, over here.. Please.. she’s coughing”

“Doctor, can you look at this”

“Elara, thank you.. God, thank you” They move toward her without hesitation, their voices piling over each other. Not one of them looks at me once. And it shouldn’t matter. I don’t want applause, I don’t need it. Legacy has taught me to hold the world steady while everyone screams at shadows, but standing here watching them orbit her, something sharp twists behind my ribs.

She wipes soot off her forehead with her sleeve and catches my stare across the courtyard. For a second, just one the noise fades. her eyes soften, like she can feel the part of me I’m trying to hide. Then someone tugs her arm, and she’s gone again, surrounded by gratitude that was never meant for me.

When the courtyard finally empties, the music that was supposed to play tonight hangs in the air like an insult, a ruined event, and a sabotaged breaker. Elara makes her way toward me, brushing ash off her hands. There’s a smudge on my jaw I don’t even notice until her thumb lifts and wipes it away without thinking. It’s nothing. Bare skin a soft touch but it hits like a blow.

“You’re covered in smoke,” she murmurs.

“So are you.”

Something flickers between us, something raw, and unguarded but then a group of donors rushes over.

“Doctor Quinn, thank you”

“You prevented a disaster”

“You saved three people, maybe more”

Elara flushes and uncomfortable, I stand behind her, unseen, silent, the heir the room forgets is standing there at all, and I don’t know why it stings, but it does. Ethan jogs over, holding a radio and looking like he’s aged ten years in ten minutes. “Adrian, we’ve got press outside the south gate, trying to get statements. Donors too. They want..”

My phone starts buzzing in my pocket. The system is still in emergency mode, which means all priority calls route through the external speakers automatically. I didn’t catch it in time. The sound booms through the courtyard speakers, sharp, official, and unmistakable.

MAYOR CALLING — MAYOR CALLING — MAYOR CALLING.

Every head turns. I stab the answer button, voice tight. “This is Adrian Valcrosse.”

“Adrian,” the mayor booms, her voice carrying through every outdoor speaker, ringing across broken lanterns and half-burned tablecloths. “I’m calling to commend your team for tonight’s response.” My spine straightens instinctively, then she continues.

“And to personally thank Dr. Elara Quinn for preventing a mass-casualty incident on your island.”

My breath stops, around me donors murmur and staff look directly at her. Camera phones rise again, catching her shock, her flushed cheeks, her trembling inhale. The mayor keeps going, oblivious to the way my stomach drops:
“She showed exceptional leadership, precise, fearless, and decisive. Truly the kind of medical authority Seraphine is lucky to have.”

Elara’s eyes flick to mine, and for the first time tonight, I feel it,  not fear or pride, but a cold, quiet truth: They’re naming her the hero of my island, and I’m losing control of a world I thought I held in my hands.