“Where is she?” I all but roared, my inner beast clawing, fighting for control. It’s a suffocating feeling, this need to get to her.
Mia pointed at the burning building.
I turned, about to run up the stairs inside, when I saw him.
Julian Vallen stepped out of his car, his face white with both fury and terror. Chocolate eyes, the same color as Eva’s, locked onto me.
“You,” he roared, crossing the distance in seconds. He grabbed me by the collar and slammed me back against one of the stone columns. “You did this. You sick fuck. You tried to hurt her?—”
“Get the fuck off of me,” I said, shoving him off me so hard that he stumbled, eyes widening.
I didn’t want to hear the rest of his anger. My eyes were too focused on the entrance, on the smoke pouring out the doors. That’s where Eva was.
My light. My life. My love.
My solnyshka.
My feet were moving before my mind was. I ran past the firefighters, past their erected barriers. I ran past the fear clawing up my throat and the cold terror in my bones that threatened to outweigh the stifling heat.
“You’re not getting away from me that easily, Evangeline,” I hissed under my breath, letting just enough of the monster bleed through my facade. “You cannot fucking escape me. If you die, I will follow right after you.”
And then I ran into the flames.
March 7th
Evangeline
Alek?
Are you there?
I think my phone is broken… Nothing is delivering… But if you can see this, I’m trapped on the stage. I can’t move this piece of the set off of me.
I think this is the end of us, Aleksandr.
I love you.
“Help!”I screamed, my voice raw from both my cries and the excessive smoke I’d inhaled while lying on the stage floor. “Help me!”
But no one was coming. I knew that with chilling certainty. I was alone, waiting for my body to be eaten by the flames.
The fire didn’t start like they did in movies. There was no sudden explosion, no dramatic imagery of flames licking up the walls. It began quietly, insidiously—an acrid smell that cut through the familiar scent of rosin and sweat and old velvet curtains.
At first, I thought something had blown, an old lightbulb or something. It was a historic theatre, and nothing in the main area seemed to be out of order. But then, someone in the scene shop screamed.
Smoke poured in from the wings, thick and gray, curling along the ceiling like a living thing. The music cut out mid-measure, the abrupt silence somehow louder than the orchestra ever was.
“Fire!” someone shouted.
The word cracked the room open.
Everything happened at once after that. Dancers bolted in every direction, slippers skidding against the stage, bodies colliding as panic took over. Madame Germaine was yelling, voices overlapping, chaos swallowing every attempt at order.
“Come on! To the exit!” Raphael shouted, grabbing my hand and guiding me to safety.
I ran with him, my feet burning from my pointe shoes. My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to escape my chest. Smoke burned my eyes. I coughed, the movement making my throat tighten. Ash rained down like snow, clinging to my costume, tangling in my hair.
We didn’t make it far.
