Chapter 13 The Spark
THE SPARK
KAIDEN
I bring the car to a stop outside GVM as the late evening light reflects off the glass facade. Emma pushes through the revolving doors in a fitted navy dress that outlines every curve, heels that make her legs look endless. That's when I notice the limp, her pace uneven.
I'm out of the driver's seat before she reaches the curb.
“Hey.” I pull her into a quick hug. The scent of her perfume warms my chest before I step back to open the passenger door. “You're limping. What happened?”
She waves it off, sliding into the leather seat. “Long day, too much standing. These heels are beautiful torture devices.”
When I get in, she's already kicked them off, feet tucked under her on the seat. The red, swollen skin where the straps dug in makes my jaw tighten.
“We have time to swing by your place if you want something more comfortable,” I offer.
She leans her head back, eyes fluttering shut. “It's out of the way. I'll survive. These shoes and I have an understanding. They make my legs look great, and I pretend they're not slowly killing me.”
“That sounds like a toxic relationship.”
She laughs, and some of the knots in my chest loosen. “You have no idea.”
I'm respecting the line she's drawn, though the restraint is starting to feel like a physical weight. We've spent the last week in this strange, tethered orbit. Calls every morning. Texts that punctuate my darkest board meetings.
“Where’s the mystery destination tonight?” she asks.
“A small place in the arts district. The chef does a tasting menu that changes daily.”
“That sounds perfect. I could eat an entire horse right now. Miles had me running reports all day. I skipped lunch.”
The mention of Miles sparks irritation. I'm becoming convinced I need to have a conversation with that man.
The car speakers chime. Ethan's name flashes on the dashboard.
“Sorry, I need to take this.” I hit accept. “What's up?”
“We have a problem.” Ethan's voice is sharp, stripped of its usual ease. “Ravenwood. The pilot school.”
My grip tightens on the steering wheel. “What happened?”
“Fire. Electrical short in the system we installed. Fire department's on scene.” A pause. “Kai, there were kids in the building.”
My hands go cold. “Injuries?”
“Principal got everyone out. Some students were helping her set up for tomorrow's activities. They're okay, but it was close. Too close.”
Ravenwood was our proof of concept. The program was supposed to show Silverpoint what we could do for their district.
Low-income neighborhood, underfunded schools, kids who needed every dollar redirected from utility bills to programs. Now those same kids almost got hurt because of equipment with our name on it.
“How bad is the damage?”
“Contained to one wing. Could have been worse. Maddox is already on his way. He thinks someone tampered with the installation.”
“I'm forty minutes out.” Already calculating the fastest route. “Have Dylan coordinate with the PR firm. Draft of the communication plan by the time I arrive. No excuses.”
“On it. And Kai? News vans are already circling.”
The call ends. Emma's relaxed posture has vanished, replaced by rigid focus.
“A fire,” she says quietly. “At a school?”
“One of our installations. No one was hurt.”
“Your friend mentioned tampering.”
“That's the working theory. Maddox is our security expert. He doesn't miss details.” I glance at her. “I have to get there. I'm sorry to ruin the evening.”
“Don't apologize. This is an emergency.” Her voice is steady. “Just drop me at the nearest subway station so you can get there faster.”
I consider it. The logical move would be to get her home and keep her away from the fallout. But the thought of leaving her on a dark platform feels wrong.
“No.” The word comes out before I think it through. “Dropping you home would take too long, and I'm not leaving you at a subway station.” I make a hard left toward the highway. “Come with me. If you don't mind.”
She reaches down, pulls her heels back on, wincing as the straps bite into raw skin. “I'm coming with you.”
Relief floods through me. I press the accelerator. “Thank you. This is going to be a long night.”
“I can handle long nights.” She pulls her phone from her purse. “Give me the details so I know what to expect.”
No complaints about the ruined evening. No sighing about the dinner we're missing. She's shifting into a mode I haven't seen before.
“I'll make it up to you,” I say. “I promise.”
“You don't owe me anything, Kai. Just tell me what's going on.”
I give her the abbreviated version. ELK's initiative, the Silverpoint contract, the competition.
“This school is in one of the toughest neighborhoods in the city,” I explain as we speed toward the outskirts.
“The savings were supposed to fund music programs and art supplies. Now we look like the corporation that almost burned the place down. Even if we prove sabotage, the public perception will be devastating.”
Emma shifts in her seat. “You can't hide from this. You have to own the setback and make it the foundation of your next move.”
“Explain.”
“Everyone loves a resilience story. Launch a transparency campaign.
Show the community exactly how you're making them whole. Turn a crisis into proof of your integrity.” Her voice sharpens.
“You don't just fix the wing. You build them something better.
Show them ELK doesn't run when things get ugly.”
I look at her. In the dim glow of the dashboard, she doesn't look like someone who cries in front of paintings or agonizes over pastry choices. This is a woman in her element.
“You're good at this,” I say.
“It's my job. Even if you wouldn't guess it from the spreadsheets I've been editing.” She offers a determined smile. “You just need to give people something to root for.”
Ravenwood is forty minutes from the city center. I make it in twenty-five.
***
The smell hits first. Burnt plastic and scorched wiring, acrid and wrong. Then the lights, red and blue strobing across row houses with peeling paint and barred windows. The school sits at the end of the block. One wing blackened, windows blown out, smoke still curling into the night sky.
I pull up behind a fire truck, kill the engine. A crowd has gathered on the sidewalk. Neighbors in bathrobes, parents clutching phones, kids who should be asleep pressed against their mothers' legs. Their faces shift between fear and anger as they watch the firefighters work.
“Stay close,” I tell Emma. “This could get hostile.”
We're barely on the sidewalk when a reporter spots me, her camera crew moving in like wolves.
“Mr. Rhodes!” She moves fast, heels clicking on asphalt. “Can you confirm that ELK Energy systems caused this fire?”
I keep walking, stepping in front of Emma to shield her from the lens. “No comment at this time.”
“Sources say your equipment malfunctioned. Do you have any response to allegations that ELK cut corners on safety inspections?”
“I said no comment.”
She keeps pace, microphone thrust toward my face. “Parents are demanding answers. A school full of children could have been inside. What do you say to them?”
I stop, turn to face her, keeping Emma behind me. The camera light is blinding, but I've done this before.
“We don't yet know the cause of this fire, and I'm here to support the families in any way I can. ELK cares deeply about the Ravenwood community. I won't rest until we discover exactly what happened tonight.”
She opens her mouth to push back, but I step closer, lowering my voice. “That's your quote. Now get the camera out of my face, or my lawyers will make your night very unpleasant.”
She falters. I slip my arm behind Emma's back, use the gap to push through, hand firm on her waist as I guide her past the cameras and shouted questions.
Ethan meets us at the perimeter tape, lifting it as we approach. “You're clear. I had a conversation with the officer in charge.”
The way he says conversation tells me everything I need to know.
“Good.” I duck under the tape, pulling Emma with me.
I follow Ethan to where Maddox is hunched over a laptop on the hood of a black SUV, fingers flying across the keys.
“Ethan, Maddox,” I say. “This is Emma.”
Ethan's eyes flick to her, then back to me. One pierced eyebrow rises. He extends a hand anyway. “Nice to meet you. Wish it were under better circumstances.”
“Me too.” Emma shakes his hand. “I'll stay out of your way.”
Maddox glances up, gives Emma a long look. He's seen her files, knows her history. Seeing her standing in the smoke beside me forces a recalibration. He shifts his gaze to me, eyes demanding a reason for her presence.
I meet his stare, jaw set. She's staying.
He accepts it with an imperceptible tilt of his head.
“Someone wiped thirty minutes of footage from the exterior cameras. Clean job.”
“Can you recover it?”
“Already working on it.” His fingers start moving again. “Whoever did this knows what they're doing. I'm hoping they made a mistake somewhere.”
There's something dangerous in the way he says it. Maddox doesn't get angry like other people. He gets quiet. Focused. Until he destroys whoever crosses him.
A woman breaks through the crowd near the building, flanked by a firefighter. Mrs. Okonkwo. I recognize her from the installation ceremony a month ago. She'd smiled then, talked about what the energy savings would mean for her students.
She's not smiling now. Blazer is covered in ash, hair disheveled.
“Mr. Rhodes.” She reaches me, hands shaking. “I had students in there.” Her voice cracks. “If we'd been in the east wing when it started...”
“But you weren't.” I keep my voice steady. “You got them out. That's what matters.”
“The east wing is gone. Three classrooms. The computer lab.” She presses a hand to her forehead. “We have state testing in two weeks. I don't know where we'll put the students. I don't know how we're going to—“