The smoke woke me.
Not the heat. Not the sound. The smoke—thick, acrid, crawling under the basement door like something alive.
I jerked upright. My shoulder screamed where the rogue's claws had torn through. The silver cuffs still burned my wrists. But none of that mattered.
Fire.
I scrambled to the door and pressed my hand against it. Hot. Not burning yet, but close.
"Help!" I shouted. My voice was raw from earlier. "Someone—there's a fire!"
No answer.
I slammed my fists against the wood. Pain shot through my bound wrists. The silver seared deeper.
"Please!" I screamed. "I'm locked in—please!"
Silence. Just the crackle of flames somewhere above, growing louder.
My wolf surged forward. Not gently. Not carefully. She threw herself against the cage of my ribs and *howled*.
I felt her strength flood my limbs—wild, desperate, furious.
I stepped back. Braced. Kicked.
The door shuddered but held.
I kicked again. The wood splintered near the lock.
Again.
The bolt tore free. The door flew open.
Smoke poured in. I choked, covered my mouth with my bound hands, and ran.
The basement hallway was already hazy. Orange light flickered from the stairwell. I took the steps two at a time, lungs burning, eyes streaming.
The first floor was chaos. Flames crawled up the walls. Timber groaned overhead. Somewhere, glass shattered.
I didn't stop.
I hit the main staircase and climbed. The second floor—that's where the private rooms were. That's where people would be trapped.
That's where Holden was.
I felt him through the bond. Faint. Muted. But there.
*Holden!*
I screamed it through the bond with everything I had. My wolf threw her voice behind mine, primal and raw.
*Holden, I'm here—please—*
The bond flared. Just once. A pulse of acknowledgment.
He heard me.
Relief crashed through me so hard I stumbled. He heard me. He was coming.
I pushed forward, coughing, half-blind. The hallway split ahead—left toward the guest wing, right toward the main suites.
I went left. Toward where I felt him.
"Holden!" I choked out loud this time. "Holden, where are you?"
Footsteps. Running. Coming closer.
I stopped, pressed against the wall, trying to see through the smoke.
A figure appeared at the far end of the hall.
Holden.
I nearly sobbed.
He stood there, chest heaving, grey eyes cutting through the haze. For one heartbeat, we just stared at each other.
Then he turned right.
Away from me.
"Holden—" My voice cracked. "Holden, wait—"
I stumbled after him. The smoke was thicker here. The heat unbearable. I saw him stop at the entrance to the main suite hallway.
London sat on the floor, one leg stretched out in front of her. Her face was pale, composed. She looked up at Holden with wide, frightened eyes.
"My ankle," she said softly. "I can't walk."
Holden didn't hesitate.
He bent down. Slid one arm under her knees, the other around her back. Lifted her like she weighed nothing.
London's arms came up around his neck.
I stood there, frozen, watching.
*Holden.*
I didn't scream it this time. I whispered it through the bond. Quiet. Broken.
*Please.*
He didn't look back.
He carried her toward the main staircase. Away from me. Away from the flames that were closing in on both sides.
I tried to follow. The ceiling groaned. Something cracked overhead—loud, final.
I looked up just as a beam gave way.
I threw myself backward. The beam crashed down where I'd been standing, sending sparks and burning wood across the floor. The hallway was blocked.
No way forward. No way back.
I turned and ran the other direction. My lungs screamed. My vision blurred. The smoke was so thick now I couldn't see more than a few feet ahead.
I hit a door. Locked. I kicked it open.
A bedroom. Flames already climbing the curtains. But there—a balcony.
I stumbled toward it, shoved the glass door open, and fell onto the stone balcony. Cold air hit my face. I gasped, coughed, tried to breathe.
The balcony overlooked the front courtyard. Two stories down. Stone.
I looked back. The bedroom was an inferno now. Flames licked through the doorway I'd just come through. The hall beyond was collapsing.
No other way out.
I gripped the balcony railing. Looked down. The courtyard swam in my vision.
Two stories. Stone. I'd break something. Maybe everything.
But I'd be alive.
I climbed onto the railing. My bound hands made it clumsy. The silver burned. My injured shoulder shook.
I looked toward the front entrance.
Holden emerged, carrying London. He set her down gently on the grass, away from the building. She clung to him. He knelt beside her, checking her ankle, his hand on her shoulder.
Neither of them looked up.
I opened my mouth to scream his name. To beg him to look. To see me.
The balcony lurched.
I lost my grip.
I fell.
The world tilted. The stone courtyard rushed up. I tried to twist, to land on my side, to do something—
I hit the ground.
Pain exploded everywhere. White. Blinding. My head cracked against stone. My ribs—something snapped. I couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't think.
I lay there, staring up at the smoke-filled sky.
Footsteps. Voices. Shouting.
I turned my head—slow, agonizing.
Holden stood at the front entrance, London still in his arms. He was looking at the building. At the flames. At the pack members rushing out.
Not at me.
London's head rested against his chest. Her arms around his neck.
They walked away. Into the cold night air. Into safety.
My vision blurred. Darkness crept in from the edges.
The last thing I saw was them disappearing into the crowd.
Together.
And then there was nothing.
