The night was still. Too still.Even the city — the ever-humming, ever-watching city — seemed to hold its breath.
Luke Roth stood at the edge of the cliffs where he and Lora had been married. The same sea wind, the same horizon — only this time, the world below wasn't a promise. It was a warning.
In his hand, he held a gun. Not for killing. For remembering.
Behind him, the sound of approaching footsteps. He didn't turn. He didn't have to.
Ronan's voice was the echo of an old wound."I was wondering when you'd come back to finish what you started."
Luke closed his eyes. The sound of that voice — raw, alive — didn't belong in the world anymore."I did finish it," he said quietly. "I buried you myself."
Ronan stepped into the moonlight.Scarred, alive, smiling with the kind of peace only the damned could wear."You buried a body. Not me."
Luke turned then, the wind cutting between them. "You should've stayed dead."
Ronan laughed — and it wasn't bitter. It was heartbreak. "You should've told her the truth."
Twelve Years Ago — The Mission That Never Ended
The Veil's order had been simple:Eliminate Ronan Roth.
Not because he was Lora's brother, not because of family — but because Ronan had betrayed them.He'd stolen data, tried to dismantle The Veil's control, and almost exposed their existence to the government.
Luke had tracked him to the old Roth estate.They had fought among the flames of their family home — two ghosts, one fire.
Ronan had begged him to listen. "They're going to use her, Luke. Lora isn't your salvation — she's their next weapon."
Luke hadn't listened.He pulled the trigger.Watched Ronan fall.
And when the house exploded, he left him there — burning, broken, gone.
Only he hadn't died.
The Veil found him first.They rebuilt him — not with mercy, but with purpose.He became their ace, their revenant.A weapon forged from betrayal.
And now, he had returned to collect what was owed.
Present. The Cliffs.
Luke lowered his weapon. "This ends with us, Ronan."
Ronan nodded. "It always was meant to."
Then — a voice.Soft, sharp, and unshakable.
"Then let me decide how it ends."
Lora.
She stepped into the moonlight, her hair whipped by the wind, her eyes burning with every ghost she'd ever buried.
Neither man moved.
Luke's voice cracked. "Lora—"
She didn't look at him. Her gaze was fixed on her brother. "You burned our house. You tried to kill me."
Ronan smiled faintly. "And you killed me first."
Silence. A heartbeat. Then Lora raised her gun.
"I loved you," she whispered. "Both of you. And look what it made us."
Ronan took a step closer, unarmed. "Then make it mean something. End it. End me."
Luke reached for her. "Lora, don't—"
She fired once.
The shot echoed off the cliffs, swallowed by the sea.
Ronan fell to his knees, surprise flickering in his eyes — not at the pain, but at the peace that came with it.
He smiled through the blood. "You finally chose."
And then he was gone.
After.
Luke sank to the ground, head in his hands. Lora stood over the body of her brother — her last ghost.
The moonlight washed everything silver, merciful and cold.
After a long silence, she whispered,"He was right, you know."
Luke lifted his gaze. "About what?"
"That the fire doesn't end until we let it."
She holstered her gun and looked out to the sea. "The Veil will come. They'll want revenge."
Luke rose to stand beside her. "Then we'll give them something to fear."
She turned to him, eyes softening. "No, Luke. Not fear."
She reached for his hand — the same way she had five years ago at their wedding."This time, we build something that doesn't need to be survived."
He hesitated. Then he took her hand.
And together, they watched the tide swallow the last of the fire.
Epilogue
Months later, whispers spread again through the city — not of the Roths' downfall, but of their disappearance.
Some said they fled to the islands.Others said they died with their enemies.
But the truth was quieter.
In a coastal town far from the skyline, a small villa overlooked the ocean.A woman with silver eyes hung white sheets to dry in the salt breeze.A man with a scarred hand held a child steady as he learned to walk.
Peace.
The kind you couldn't steal, buy, or inherit — only earn.
And when night came, and the waves whispered against the shore, Luke sometimes thought he saw a figure in the surf — tall, familiar, watching with a faint smile before fading back into the mist.
The ghosts were finally at rest.
But the fire — their fire —still burned in the hearts of the ones who remembered.