“Jude!” His voice split the smoke as he forced his way across the ruined office.
It wasn’t easy getting to him. The room was a wreck. Bookshelves collapsed in heaps, charred spines spitting sparks. Glass crunched under every step, jagged shards catching the firelight, while smoke rolled low enough to claw at his eyes and throat. Warren kept the waistcoat clamped over his mouth, one hand free to wrench debris aside, shoving a toppled chair here, dragging a splintered shelf there, until the path opened enough to drop to his knees at Jude’s side.
Jude was dazed but defiant, blood slicking down the side of his face in streams. “Radley…he’s trapped!”
“Where’s Reid?” Warren barked.
Jude flapped weakly towards the shelves, where a narrow service door gaped open, smoke curling through the gap. “He ran. Garage exit.”
“Of course, he fucking did.” Warren bit the words off, shoving the last broken plank out of the way to reach him. Reid was the least of his problems, and he couldn’t get far. The prick was tagged. He’d make it as far as the cliff edge. So Warren concentrated on what hecoulddo. And he cupped Jude’s face in his hands, assessing him, sliding his thumb through blood. “Baby, you’re bleeding.”
He tugged the waistcoat down, dabbing the cloth to Jude’s wound.
Jude raised a shaky hand, touched his head as though only just realising how bad it was. “Hit my head.”
“We’re getting you out of here.” Warren hooked an arm under him.
“No!” Jude widened his eyes, his glasses cracked and askew. “We can’t… leave him.”
Warren turned back to Radley. Stuck. Half-unconscious. The op was already in ruins, everything compromised, the stingblown apart. If Radley died here, maybe it solved the problem. Maybe it even tied the bow.
Jude cupped Warren’s face, trembling, forcing him to look. “We can’t.”
That plea cut deeper than the fire ever could.
Warren swore, hard and raw.
Radley’s leg was twisted under the beam, the weight pinning him down as if the house itself had chosen him as its sacrifice. His breaths came harsh, shallow, his skin pallid through the smoke. Every instinct in Warren screamed to grab Jude, throw him over his shoulder, and get him the hell out. Leave Radley to the fire. Let the bastard burn for every life he’d broken. But Jude braced against the beam, coughing, shaking, refusing to move. That stubborn hand on his face lingering in Warren’s mind.
We can’t.
“Fine,” Warren ground out. “We do this fast.”
He planted his boots, dropped to his haunches beside the beam. Smoke clawed at his throat, heat baking through his shirt, but he locked his grip around the scorched timber. “Get under there with him. Pull when I lift.”
Jude nodded, dazed but determined, shifting to wedge himself under Radley’s arms. Then Warren heaved. Muscles tore fire down his back, every tendon screaming as he dragged the beam up an inch, two. The weight was crushing, searing through his shoulders, his lungs already shredded from the smoke.
“Now!” he barked.
Jude hooked his hands under Radley’s torso and hauled. Radley groaned, half a curse, half a cry, but his body shifted, leg scraping free in a jagged pull. Warren let the beam crash back down with a splintering thud, stumbling to his knees, coughing so hard his chest spasmed. Radley sprawled over the desk, clutching his leg, his face twisted in pain and fury. Warren wanted to leave him there. Wanted to scoop Jude up and get thefuck out before the ceiling buried them all. Especially when Jude pushed himself upright, blood streaking down his temple, and his knees buckled, body folded and… collapsed.
Warren caught him before he hit the floor. “Hey, hey, I got you.”
Jude’s head lolled, curls damp with sweat and blood. Too much blood. The hit to his skull had left him swimming, his weight slack in Warren’s arms.
“Shit… baby, please.” Warren pressed his lips to Jude’s temple, stroking matted curls back from his face. “Stay with me. Just stay with me. I got you.” He then jammed a hand against his comms. “DS Beckford. Basement office, east wing. Two casualties. Priority one, unconscious head wound, heavy bleed. Priority two, leg trapped, likely fracture. Basement clear. I need fire crew and medics now!”
Static crackled, then Patel’s voice came sharp:“Copy, Beckford. Hold position. Teams en route.”
Warren bent his head back over Jude, voice breaking low, meant for him alone. “Hear that, baby? They’re coming. You stay with me until they get here. Stay with me.”
Movement scraped across the floor. Radley. Crawling for where Callum had bolted. Smoke curled thick, the corridor beyond lit orange with flame.
“Not a chance.” Warren clamped his boot between Radley’s shoulder blades, grinding him flat. With one arm he hauled Jude tighter to his chest, keeping him upright. “Don’t move!”
Radley froze, breath hissing.
Warren checked the service exit. The garage corridor choked with fire, the way out Callum had taken gone to hell. His gut tightened. And his training screamed the same answer it always did. Don’t risk the unknown. Use the route you know is open.
