The smoke clawed at my lungs, thick and acrid. I could barely see her through the inferno, but I knew she was there, my Alice. The flames licked at the edges of her gown as she coughed, her beautiful face contorted in fear.

"Pippin!" she cried, reaching for me with a soot-streaked hand. "Pippin, run! Save yourself!"

Her voice was raw with desperation, her eyes pleading. But I couldn't leave her. Not now, not when she needed me most.

I darted forward, my white fur singed and blackened, my paws burning on the scalding floor. I tried to pull her, to nudge her towards the window, but the fire was too strong, the heat too intense. A burning beam crashed down, blocking our escape. I yowled in despair, my voice lost in the roar of the flames.

"Please," I begged the fire. "Take me instead. Spare her..."

The fire roared in defiance of my pleas, its inferno consuming us both. As life ebbed from my small body, and darkness enveloped me, a final vow echoed in my fading mind: If fate grants me another life, I will find you. I will love you. I will never let you go.

Now, decades later, the world was awash in a different kind of fire – the glittering chandeliers of a political gala. I, Christian Ashford, son of a senator, heir to a fortune, stood in a tailored suit, my reflection a stranger in the gilded mirror.

Tonight, the gala was a blur of faces and forced smiles, until their face pierced through the crowd. It was her... Alice, reborn.

Something wild surged through me, a primal need to protect, to hold, to never let them go. I crossed the room in three long strides, heedless of the whispers and stares.

"Alice," I breathed, my voice thick with emotion. I pulled them into my arms, burying my face in their hair. "My love, my Alice."

The room fell silent. A million flashbulbs exploded, capturing the scandalous scene. But I didn't care. All that mattered was the person in my arms, the person I'd crossed lifetimes to find.