“No,” I mutter, stepping forward.
The fire is positioned directly beneath the office window, beneath the room where Ryder keeps the licenses, the financial records, every piece of documentation that’s been scrutinized since the council meeting.
I don’t waste time thinking about it.
The hose is coiled beside the door, and I yank it free, twisting the spigot open so hard the metal bites into my palm. Water sputters at first before the pressure catches, and I drag the line toward the base of the flames, boots slipping slightly on damp pavement.
I aim low, sweeping back and forth, hitting the base where the fire feeds.
Steam erupts upward as the water makes contact, but the flames resist longer than they should, flaring briefly as if they’ve been given more to hold onto.
The smell confirms it before my brain wants to.
Gasoline.
My stomach twists hard.
This isn’t a wiring issue. This isn’t a stray ember drifting from somewhere else. This is fuel.
Behind me, Ryder doesn’t ask if it’s bad. He reads it the same way I do. The placement, the height, the way the fire hugs the brick beneath the office window as if it knows exactly what’s above it.
“It’s set,” I say through my teeth, keeping the hose locked on the base.
Ryder is already pulling his phone from his pocket. “This is Ryder Hayes. We’ve got an active fire at The Hollow. Back alley. Accelerant involved.”
Finn swears softly and takes a step backward, eyes flicking from the flames to the building and then toward the stairs that lead back up. “Aurora.”
The word hits as another flare.
She’s upstairs, unaware.
Ryder’s gaze snaps to Finn. “Get her out.”
I keep the water trained low, sweeping side to side. The flames shrink, then flare again where the fuel is strongest, licking higher toward the window frame. Steam thickens the alley, mixing with the sharp chemical scent that makes my throat burn.
Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder fast. Relief mixes with the anger, sharp and hot in my chest. I adjust the hose again, refusing to let the fire take even an inch more than it already has.
Ryder steps past me just enough to assess the angle. He scans the rooftops, the alley mouth, and the shadows between the dumpsters. He’s not watching the flames. He’s watching the escape routes.
He’s thinking ahead.
The window above the burn glows faintly from reflected flame, and I imagine the paperwork on the other side. The compliance files, the licensing documents Benjamin Wren is so interested in. The timing is too clean to ignore.
Footsteps pound behind us, and Finn reappears with Aurora wrapped in his jacket, her hair loose and eyes wide but calm. Confusion is still clinging to her expression as she takes in the alley.
“What happened?” she asks.
“A fire, but a small one,” Finn says quickly. “We’ve got it.”
I don’t look at her. I can’t afford to.
The engine rounds the corner in a wash of red light, brakes hissing as Jesse brings it in tight. Leo and Karl jump down before it fully stops, already moving with purpose.
They take the line from me seamlessly, stronger pressure slamming into the base. Water roars. Steam billows thick and white. The flames collapse under the force, shrinking back into blackened wood and soaked brick.
Within minutes, it’s out.
The brick holds. The window doesn’t crack. The fire never breaches the wall, but my mind doesn’t settle.
