"Garrett, I'm at the Times building. Rebecca Marsh started a fire. I'm locked on the twelfth floor. The hallway is burning."
A pause. The crackle of flames.
"I love you. I love you so much."
The message ended.
I couldn't breathe.
"Stone." Shane's hand on my shoulder. "Talk to me."
"She's inside." The words scraped out. "Twelfth floor."
Shane went pale. Brian was already reaching for his radio.
"Cap. We've got a situation."
Rodriguez listened. Expression hardening with every word.
"How long ago was that message?"
"Five minutes."
In a fire that size, five minutes was a lifetime.
The truck screamed through another intersection.
I love you. I love you so much.
I was going to get her out. I was going to reach her in time.
Not again. Not like this.
The building came into view.
Worse than I'd imagined.
Fire in the windows. Sixth floor, eighth, tenth. Flames licking up the glass facade, smoke pouring from gaps in the structure. The building lit up against the night sky like a torch.
And somewhere on the twelfth floor, Sloane was waiting.
Chaos on the ground.
Ladder trucks everywhere. Hose lines snaking across the pavement. A dozen houses on scene. IC staging area across the street, radios crackling.
I was out of the truck before it stopped.
"Stone!" Rodriguez's voice, sharp. "Stone, wait!"
I didn't wait. Mask. Halligan. Air check. Muscle memory, a thousand fires had trained my hands to move without thought.
Rodriguez grabbed my arm.
"You're not going in there half-cocked."
"She's on twelve, Cap. I have to?—"
"I know." His grip tightened. "But you're not going alone."
