One swift shake of his head has me balling one hand into a fist and pressing it to my lips with a choked groan.
“Jesus Christ, she’s inside.”
I suck in a breath through my nose, my head about to explode with the amount of pressure inside it.
“Maybe she didn’t get there yet,” Jenson says.
“She’s in there. The security alarm was deactivated,” Killian says to him.
I stare out of the window as we cut through the traffic leaving blaring horns in our wake.
She can’t die in there.
I can’t lose her.
We turn another corner and Denver hits the brakes. The entire street is gridlocked with flashing lights up ahead.
Seasons.
I throw my door open and race through the unmoving traffic. There are two fire trucks, an ambulance, and three cop cars outside. A cordon is being set up to keep everyone except emergency personnel away.
“Did anyone come out?” I shout as I run straight up to a guy in an NYFD uniform. “I’m the owner. My fiancée is in there.”
His eyes meet mine. “My team’s preparing for full entry. The fire is out in the entrance, but?—”
I don’t wait to hear whatever he’s about to say.
She’s still in there.
I knock past another NYFD uniform as I run into the building, keeping to one side of the massive water hose that’s snaked along the ground. The smoke is thick, flooding the hallway in big noxious clouds. I lift my arm, burying the lower half of my face in the crook of my elbow.
Two firefighters in full protective gear are inside the hallway, tackling a blaze that’s spilling from the main bar.
I pin myself against the wall. A billion tiny needles all pierce my skin at once. The left side of my torso. My arm. Memories brought to the surface by the sheer heat being forced from that room like the inside of a volcano.
She wouldn’t be in the main bar area. Please God, don’t let her be in there. It’s a raging inferno.
I cough, forcing myself to keep moving. The door at the end of the hallway is open and I speed up as I turn into it. The smoke is still thick here, but there aren’t any flames.
I move as fast as I can, straining to see properly. I place one hand to the wall, running the back of it along, feeling for the door.
Even the wall is blistering, hotter than the sidewalk during a freak heatwave.
The second I reach my office adrenaline storms my veins. I pull my sleeve over my hand and try the handle, but the door doesn’t budge. It’s warped with the heat.
“Damn it!”
I roar and use every ounce of strength I have to ram my shoulder against it.
It flies open, taking me with it, and I stagger a couple of steps to balance myself, my chest heaving.
There’s smoke in the room, making it hazy and out of focus.
But then I see her.
Slumped over my desk.
“Hallie!”
