Page 44 of Hex Appeal

Answer the phone. Please answer.

It goes to voicemail.

My heart pounds harder. I press the accelerator. The engine is still minutes behind me. Volunteers have to get to the station before they can roll out.

I'm closer. Much closer.

I should be thinking like the chief. Occupancy. Water supply. Exposure. Evacuation.

Instead, all I can think about is a smile that’s brightened my whole damn world.

I should have told her. I've known for days. Maybe longer.

I kept telling myself it was too soon. That we were moving too fast.

That I had time.

Then dispatch said her address, and suddenly all the time I thought I had disappeared.

I turn onto Main Street. There. Smoke. A dark column rising behind the Victorian.

My heart almost stops.

I pull up hard at the curb. The house isn't engulfed. Thank God.

I don't see flames through the windows. No smoke pouring from the roof. But there's definitely smoke behind the building.

A lot of it. I grab the extinguisher from my vehicle and run.

“Serena!”

Nothing.

I hit the front door. Unlocked.

“Serena!”

The downstairs is empty. I move through the shop.

No smoke. No flames. Nothing. The back door is open. I run through it.

And stop.

What. The. Fuck?

There are half a dozen women standing around a fire. A very deliberate fucking fire.

Serena is among them. Safe. Whole. Alive.

Relief hits me so hard my knees almost buckle.

Then training takes over. I see open flame. Dry leaves nearby. A table full of drinks. A contained fire pit.

And before anyone can say a word, I pull the pin.

“Welles?”

I squeeze the handle. The extinguisher roars.