I reached up, hands shaking, and I yanked off the helmet. Over the crackling, monstrous fire, I couldn’t hear the hiss of the seal breaking. Now the smoke hit me with full force. My eyes burned. My lungs burned. My…my feet were burning!
I looked down, seeing the first flames licking at the front of the suit boots. Fear was a living, breathing thing inside my body now. It was bloating bigger by the second, trying to fill me to bursting. I tried to stand on tiptoe, nearly losing my balance. I really was going to burn to death.
“Help! Somebody… anybody… help!” It was useless to keep shouting. I wasn’t loud enough now; my throat was constricting, and my lungs felt like they were giving out.
The flames leapt higher. Wordlessly, I screamed again. The sound splintered and cracked.
Suddenly, there was a thunderous bang.
“Lucy!” A deep voice filled with violence called my name.
“Help,” I managed weakly.
All I could see were half-realized outlines beyond the fire. One barreling forward, closing in. The other still crouched down. One slamming into the other, knocking him down brutally.
I heard a strange whoosh, followed by a dull roar. Something white began to spray towards me. I raised my hand to cover my mouth, and I closed my eyes again. I kept my lids tightly clamped as the horrible heat began to fade.
I didn’t part my lashes until I was sure I wasn’t dead.
The scent of smoke lingered. My feet still burned. My heart still raced. I could smell, feel, react. So, I must be alive.
When I blinked and peered into the still-hazy room, my gaze collided with Xander’s.
He stood at the edge of the charred, ruined mattress—now covered with extinguishing foam—and he glared at me like I’d done something wrong. The extinguisher was gripped in his right hand. He lifted it higher, then lowered it again. For a split second, I thought he was going to punish me somehow. Instead, he turned to the left, to where Asher sat on the hardwood floors staring in my direction, looking like a child who’d lost their favorite toy.
I wanted to scream for joy, for relief, but the expression on Asher’s face knotted my stomach.
In seconds, Xander stalked over and halted, large body looming over Asher.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snarled.
When Asher didn’t move a muscle, Xander lifted the empty canister and slammed it down on his pack brother’s upper back with bone-breaking force.
Asher grunted, pitching forward, shocked from his trance. He pushed himself back to a sitting position and gazed up at Xander in confusion. “That fucking hurt.”
“Burning to death would hurt a fuck ton more,” Xander growled menacingly.
“Well, yeah. Obviously,” Asher’s voice was so flippant, like he hadn’t just attempted murder.
Xander lifted the fire extinguisher again, ready to slam it down. Out of nowhere, Kane appeared. He grabbed Xander’s wrists, stopping the blow.
“Get the fuck off me, Kane!” Xander spat.
“It’s done, Xander. You know this won’t help,” Kane reasoned.
I watched, not understanding. Why would Xander hit Asher for my sake? Why would Kane tell him it wouldn’t help? Why was everyone ignoring the woman who’d almost died?
“Let. Me. The. Fuck. Go.” Xander bit out each word.
“I will,” Kane said slowly, “If you promise not to hit Asher again.”
After a few moments in which the room seemed to hit pause, Xander nodded. “I won’t fucking hit him again.” He dropped the canister; it hit the floor with a sharp clank.
Asher stumbled to his feet then, looking sheepish.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” His voice sounded smaller than I ever thought it could be. Almost innocent.
“Fucking answer that question for yourself.” Xander lifted one muscled arm and pointed at me.
