Prologue
MILLIE
The news anchor’s voice trembles through the television, the picture shaking slightly as though even the camera can’t keep still. My stomach twists. The screen flashes with a live aerial shot—flames stretching over the rooftops of Driftwood Cove like a monster finally released.
My town. My home.
The crawl at the bottom of the screen reads:Harbor Road Pile-Up—Multiple Vehicles, Ongoing Fire Response.
I can’t blink. Can’t breathe. The heat from the blaze on the screen feels too real, like it’s pressing against my skin.
“This is bad,” I whisper, and my voice sounds small in the empty room. “This is so, so bad.”
The light from the TV paints the walls of my apartment in orange. It’s the only light on. Outside, the city hums with the same uneasy silence that’s been clinging to everyone since the first sirens started hours ago.
A soft sound breaks through—the smallest, most fragile cry. I glance down and find Nimbus staring up at me from the couch cushion beside my thigh, his golden eyes wide and wet. His tail curls around himself, the tip twitching nervously.
“Hey, baby,” I murmur, reaching for him. His fur, pale gray and white, is warm beneath my hand. He presses his face into my palm like he always does when he’s scared. “It’s okay. You’re safe here.”
I rescued him a month ago from the alley behind the bakery. He was half-starved, hiding behind a stack of crates, trying to lick the icing off a discarded cupcake wrapper.
I remember sitting in the rain for an hour, coaxing him closer with tiny pieces of croissant until he finally crawled into my lap. I hadn’t even planned to keep him, but the second he purred against my chest, there was no way I was letting him go.
Now he’s trembling again, like he knows something’s wrong. Maybe he does. Animals always seem to.
A knock jolts me from the trance. Three short taps, then one louder. Familiar.
“Come in,” I call, my throat tight.
The door opens, and a rush of cold air slips in before the man behind it does. Liam Bennett.
Helmet under his arm. Curly chestnut hair plastered slightly to his forehead from sweat. His jacket’s unzipped, revealing a black T-shirt stretched over his lean chest.
He smells like rain, gasoline, and the faint trace of roasted coffee that’s followed him around since high school. Normally that scent is comforting, but tonight it’s laced with something harsher. Smoke.
“Hey,” he says softly, voice rough from the chill.
“Hey. You know you’re not supposed to be riding. Cops told everyone to stay inside.”
He scoffs like he always does whenever cops are mentioned. “Since when do I listen to what they say?”
I’m not about to have the same discussion. Everyone knows he dislikes the police force. My eyes drag back to the screen as if pulled by gravity.
He sets the helmet down by the door, then crosses the room in a few long strides. His gaze lands on the TV, and his expression tightens. “It’s worse than they’re saying.”
“How bad?”
“Whole stretch of Harbor’s gone. Cars piled up everywhere. Fire jumped from the gas station to the old post office.” He rubs his hand through his curls, shaking his head. “They’re evacuating the north side. My mom’s café is just outside the zone, so it’s fine for now, but…”
He doesn’t finish. He doesn’t have to.
“Have you heard from Maddox?” he asks.
At the mention of our best friend’s name, my chest pulls tight. I shake my head. “No. Nothing.”
Liam exhales, long and heavy. He sits beside me, the couch dipping under his weight. “He’s out there.”
“I know.”
