Chasing Shadows

Chapter Twenty-nine: Burning Point

The gunfire had drawn Ethan deeper into the building, his heart pounding in his chest as he darted through the narrow halls. The air felt heavier now, thick with smoke and fear, the distant sounds of chaos ringing in his ears. But something else was gnawing at him, a cold pit in his stomach that wouldn’t go away.

He wasn’t just hearing gunshots anymore. He was hearing screams.

The closer he got, the clearer it became. There was someone else in danger. His mind raced, instinct pulling him forward before he could second-guess his actions.

And then, he saw it.

A man—one of the gunmen, dressed in dark clothes and gripping a handgun tightly—stood at the far end of the hallway. He had a woman in his grasp, his arm wrapped tightly around her throat, the gun pressed firmly against her temple. She was trembling, tears streaking down her face as she stared into the barrel of the weapon.

Time seemed to slow.

Ethan’s breath caught in his throat as he processed the scene, his eyes locking onto the man’s cold, emotionless gaze. The gunman’s finger tightened on the trigger, and in that moment, Ethan knew what was about to happen.

He didn’t think. He couldn’t.

Do something.

Ethan’s hand shot out, the air around him sparking to life with heat and energy. A surge of flame erupted from his palm, blazing with a force he couldn’t control. The fire shot forward, hitting the gunman square in the chest, knocking him backward with a sickening thud. The gun flew from his hand, clattering across the floor as his body crumpled to the ground, smoke rising from his clothes.

The woman screamed, her body jolting in terror as she stumbled away, barely able to comprehend what had just happened. She didn’t look back—just ran, her footsteps echoing through the halls as she disappeared into the shadows.

Ethan stood frozen, his eyes wide, his breath shallow. His hands were still glowing with the remnants of fire, the heat radiating off his skin in waves. But all he could see—all he could focus on—was the lifeless body lying before him.

He’s dead.

Ethan’s chest tightened as the realization hit him. The gunman wasn’t moving. There was no groan of pain, no cough, no sign of life. Just the smell of burnt fabric and the eerie stillness that filled the room.

He’d killed him.

Oh God. Oh God.

His heart raced, his mind spinning in a thousand directions as panic gripped him like a vice. His hands were trembling now, the warmth of the fire replaced by a sickening coldness that crawled through his veins. He glanced down, and suddenly, all he could see was blood—thick, dark blood coating his hands, dripping down his fingers.

It’s everywhere.

His breath hitched, a desperate sob catching in his throat as he frantically wiped his hands against his clothes, trying to get it off. But no matter how much he scrubbed, the blood wouldn’t go away. It clung to his skin, warm and sticky, a constant reminder of what he’d done.

“I didn’t mean to,” he whispered, his voice shaking as he rubbed harder, tears stinging his eyes. “I didn’t… I…”

But the blood kept spreading, covering him, suffocating him.

In his panic, he didn’t notice the figure standing behind him.

Zane had seen everything.

From the shadows, he had watched as Ethan unleashed his power, had seen the raw, unbridled fury in the flames as they engulfed the gunman. And now, he stood frozen, watching as Ethan desperately tried to scrub away blood that wasn’t even there.

There was no blood. No trace of what had happened, save for the burn marks on the gunman’s body. But Ethan—Ethan was lost in his own fear, his own panic, his hands frantically rubbing at skin that wasn’t stained, his breaths coming in rapid, shallow gasps.

Zane’s heart clenched as he watched, a sinking feeling of dread filling his chest. He knew Ethan’s powers were tied to his emotions, knew that when things got overwhelming, those flames could spiral out of control. But he’d never seen it like this. He’d never seen Ethan unravel this way.

He’s spiraling.

Zane’s mind raced. He needed to do something, to pull Ethan out of the darkness before it consumed him completely. But he couldn’t just rush in. Ethan was fragile right now, teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

“Ethan,” Zane called out softly, stepping out of the shadows. His voice was calm, measured, even though his heart was racing. “There’s no blood. Look at your hands.”

Ethan froze, his movements halting as Zane’s words cut through the haze of his panic. His breath was still coming in short bursts, but he slowly lowered his gaze to his hands, blinking rapidly as if trying to process what he was seeing.

There was no blood. Just his skin—raw from where he’d been rubbing it, but otherwise clean.

“I…” Ethan’s voice cracked, his hands trembling as he stared at them in confusion. “But… I saw…”

Zane took a step closer, careful not to startle him. “It’s okay,” he said quietly, his eyes locked onto Ethan’s. “You’re okay. There’s no blood. You didn’t mean to… it was an accident.”

Ethan’s breathing hitched again, his chest heaving as he fought to keep control. His mind was still racing, flashes of what had just happened playing over and over in his head. The gunman’s face, the fire, the scream. He couldn’t make it stop.

“I killed him,” Ethan whispered, his voice hollow. “I… I killed him.”

Zane moved closer, his expression softening as he reached out, placing a steady hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “You were trying to save someone. You didn’t have a choice.”

But the weight of those words didn’t lift the guilt from Ethan’s shoulders. His hands were still shaking, the remnants of his power crackling faintly beneath his skin, a reminder of what he was capable of.

“I can’t control it,” Ethan murmured, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. “I thought I could, but… I can’t.”

Zane’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, his voice firm but gentle. “You can control it. You’ve done it before. This… this was different. You were trying to protect someone, Ethan.”

Ethan’s gaze finally lifted to meet Zane’s, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and shame. He wanted to believe Zane, wanted to believe that this wasn’t his fault. But the truth was, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to trust himself again.

Because now, he knew what his flames could do.

And that terrified him more than anything.