Think, dammit.
There has to be a way out. Air vents. Ceiling panels. Something. I try not to panic, but it feels like I’ve been in here an hour when it’s probably only been a few minutes. I’m searching the ceiling for a solution when I hear something.
There are voices outside. Shouting. Then alarm bells. It’s not a fire alarm, but evacuation warnings from a sophisticated home security system.
That’s the sound of chaos beginning.
The fire's started early, or something else has gone wrong. Either way, I'm running out of time. I throw my weight against the door. Once. Twice. The fucker doesn't budge. I try the hinges, but they’re reinforced and designed to withstand exactly this kind of assault.
The air's getting warmer. Smoke is seeping under the door, thin but present. I'm going to die here. Trapped in Edmund Kingsley's estate, killed by my own uncle, unable to save anyone. Just like my father. Just like everyone who's ever tried to say the word ‘no’ to the power-drunk maniacs of this town.
Then I hear footsteps running toward the storage room instead of away from it. Before I can thump on the door with my fist to get whoever’s attention, the lock disengages and the door flies open.
It’s a face similar to mine, except prettier, standing there, breathing hard, with soot on her face. "Move now, big head,” Talia orders. “The whole east wing is going up."
"How did you know I was in here?”
"Luca came to find me with tears in his eyes. He told me what Silas did and where to find you.” She's already pulling me toward the exit. "We need to go. The fires are spreading fast."
"Luca helped you?" I ask incredulously.
“He gave me back your gun, and now he's trying to evacuate people. Probably making up for being an idiot. We can process his redemption arc later. Right now, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We're moving through corridors filled with smoke, past windows showing flames climbing the exterior, and toward an exit that might already be blocked.
“Where’s Peyton?" I ask, wondering whether she thinks Silas has done something to me or even cares.
“She was determined to come with me to find you, but I convinced her to go with the FC. I knew you’d never forgive me if I didn’t. So she's safe, but Blake, there are some board members trapped inside a room.”
"Where?"
“Helena’s people texted and said they’re in a conference room three floors down. There are at least six of them.”
“And you’re sure Peyton is okay?” Honestly, she’s all I give a fuck about.
“I promise she is.”
“Okay, then, against my better fucking judgment, show me where they are.”
We change direction, heading deeper into the burning building instead of out. It's stupid, reckless, exactly the kind of heroic bullshit that gets people killed. But Talia explains that they’re only inside that room because of Peyton's speech. “Her speech was so powerful that they felt compelled to immediately acknowledge her claim and hold an emergency vote.”
Damn, my girl did her thing.
Okay, there’s no way I’m letting them burn.
We find the conference room. The door's locked from the outside, and the heat is already making the metal too hot to touch.
"Stand back," I tell Talia. She's still holding my Glock, but I take it, aim at the lock mechanism, and fire three times.
The lock shatters.
The door opens.
Six men pour out, coughing, disoriented but alive.
"Out! Now!” I shout. "Follow her."
Talia leads them toward the exit while I check for more victims. The smoke's thicker now, dropping lower, making it hard to see, harder to breathe.
