His hand wraps around the handle. The pressure sends a fresh wave of agony radiating through my chest and I whimper, tears running from the corners of my eyes.
"Scream if you have to."
He doesn't give me time to prepare.
He rips the blade free.
The scream that tears from my throat is a sound I didn't know my body could make, and pain whites out my vision.
Blood pours from the wound as Callum cuts the bindings on my hands and feet, tosses the knife aside, and presses his hand against my shoulder, trying to stem the bleeding. I bite down on my lip and force myself to stay conscious.
"I've got you," he says. "I've got you."
He slides one arm beneath my knees, the other around my back, and lifts me.
Suddenly I'm pressed against his chest, my face buried in the curve of his neck. I smell soot and sweat and blood and, beneath it all, his cologne, that sharp, clean scent that I've come to associate with safety.
My good hand finds his shirt and grips with whatever strength I have left.
"I'm sorry." The words scrape past my ruined throat. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I thought..."
"Don't." Callum's voice is a growl, vibrating through his chest and into my bones. "Please don't apologize for any of this."
As we move, I feel the lurch of his steps. They're uneven from his injured foot, but he's relentless. He shields my head with his hand, pressing my face into his shoulder.
"Never leave me again," he says.
I want to answer, but my mouth won't form the words.
The building groans.
A deep, structural sound that vibrates through the floors, like metal screaming against metal. Wood splintering. The curse of this place finally giving way to the fire that's been waiting forty years to consume it.
"Shit."
Callum runs, wincing as he does.
The impact of each step jars my shoulder and fresh blood seeps through my shirt, warm and wet against my skin. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to swallow the sounds of pain that want to escape.
A massive crack erupts around us.
"Hold on!"
He tucks me tighter against his chest and launches forward. I feel his muscles coil and release, feel the moment his feet leave the ground.
We crash through something. Glass and wood exploding around us.
Then we're falling.
We hit the ground hard.
Callum takes the brunt of it, twisting his body so I land on top of him rather than beneath. His back hits grass and concrete and he grunts, arms still locked around me, and for a terrible moment we just lie there in a tangle of limbs and blood and ragged breaths.
A massive boom shakes the earth.
We lift our heads and look back.
The building, the Old Ruins, the place of so much trauma and madness, collapses in on itself. The roof caves first, then the walls, folding inward like a house of cards. Flames shoot up into the sky.
