Page 70 of Claimed By the Damned

Between the panic and the inability to get enough oxygen to her body, she was beginning to find it hard to think and form words. She was pressed against the back wall, crouching low to avoid the smoke, but by this time, the fire had spread so rapidly that the whole place was engulfed. She couldn’t see two feet in front of her, and her eyes watered from even trying.

His tone turned serious. “What’s wrong?”

“Fire,” she managed, head swirling. “Can’t . . . get out.”

She could hear him yell for Drake and Zeke. “Hang on, we’re on our way,” he said frantically.

“Hurry,” she whispered. She was getting weaker. She had already inhaled smoke for far too long, and she knew it couldn’t be good for the baby either.

Her legs gave out on her, and she slid down the wall. The heat was suffocating and blistering, and tears dried the moment they escaped her eyes.

As if to protect the tiny life inside her, her arms went around her stomach. The life that hadn’t had the chance to flourish. They would never get to grow up, would never get to fall in love, or experience the joy that life had to offer.

Tears flowed and evaporated before they reached the height of her cheekbones. There was nothing she could do for her child. There was nothing she could do for herself.

The last thought before she lost consciousness was how she wished it wouldn’t be the guys who found her body. She didn’t want them to have to bear that heartache, knowing that they couldn’t save her and their baby.

Chapter Thirty-One

Knox

“Amara!” Knox yelled into the phone. He heard the phone hit the floor and cursed under his breath while he charged through the bar in search of Zeke and Drake. When he called their names, they didn’t answer.

Panic had set into his bones, and he didn’t have time to hunt down his friends. He growled in frustration and slammed open every door he could find.

Zeke was in the back room, pulling down liquor from the shelves. He wasted no time in grabbing his arm and yanking him from the room.

“What?” Zeke demanded. Knox knew that he didn’t appreciate being manhandled, but now was not the time for that shit. “What are you doing?”

“Amara, god damn it.” He continued to drag Zeke around while in search of Drake. “The shop is on fucking fire. Where the fuck is Drake?”

Zeke yanked his arm out of his grasp. “Last I saw, he was in the office. What do you mean the shop is on fire?”

“Did I fucking stutter?” He barged into the office, and Drake looked up from the computer. His confused expression narrowed as he took in Knox. Abruptly, he stood.

“What’s wrong?”

“Amara’s in trouble,” Knox barked before rushing out of the office. He didn’t have time to explain all over again why they had to go.

Thankfully, Drake didn’t ask any questions, and they all rushed out of the bar, pushing people aside to exit quickly.

As soon as they stepped outside, he could smell the smoke. He raced to the bookshop, not caring if the other two were behind him. His only thought was to get his mate. Nothing else mattered.

Flames licked up the side of the building, and great plumes of smoke rose into the night sky. A few people had begun to crowd the street, watching the scene unfold. Amara was not among them.

“Amara!” he called, covering his face from the heat the fire was giving off.

His heart slammed against his ribcage. This level of fear was something he’d never experienced. He couldn’t even see inside with all the rolling flames and the thick veil of smoke. The entire front of the shop was engulfed, and he knew then that there was no way they were getting in that way.

He called her name again, but he didn’t receive an answer. The crowd began murmuring, wondering if someone was stuck inside, but he didn’t have time to explain that his girl was in danger . . . if she was still alive.

He headed toward the flames, fully prepared to dive through them to find her, but Drake tugged him back with a firm grip on his arm. “Back alley!”

The three of them rounded the building quickly and approached the back door. Black smoke was seeping through the cracks, but that was not what caused all three of them to growl.

Heavy chains with a padlock locked the door from the outside. Someone had done this on purpose. They were intentionally trying to kill their mate.

None of them needed to speak as they charged for the door. It took all three of them and their shifter strength to snap the chains off, and the wood around the handle splintered beneath the force.

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