Page 39 of Enduring Promise

Smoke filled the room quickly, stinging her eyes and throat. She coughed, waving a hand in front of her face to clear the air, but it was no use. The acrid scent burned her lungs, and her vision blurred as she turned toward the door.

“Everyone, out!” Madame Fournier’s voice rang out again, carrying over the growing roar of the fire. “Wake the others! Move quickly!”

Hillary didn’t need to be told twice. She grabbed Claire’s arm, steadying her as they moved toward the hallway. Around them, guests were stirring, their confusion turning to panic as they realized the severity of the situation. Some were already coughing, clutching at their throats as smoke billowed through the house.

“This way!” Hillary called, her voice hoarse as she waved people toward the front entrance. But her heart sank as she turned the corner and saw flames consuming yet another room. The fire was spreading faster than she could have imagined, devouring everything in its path.

Russ appeared at her side, his face streaked with soot. “We need to split up,” he said urgently. “There are too many people. We won’t get everyone out in time if we stick together.”

Hillary hesitated, fear clawing at her chest. The house was massive, a labyrinth of rooms and corridors, and the thought of getting separated in the chaos made her stomach churn. But Russ was right. They didn’t have a choice.

“Go,” she said, her voice shaking but firm. “I’ll take the east wing. You check the west.”

He nodded, his jaw tight. “Be careful,” he said, his gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned and disappeared into the smoke-filled hallway.

Hillary pulled her shirt over her mouth trying to filter the smoke as she made her way toward the east wing. Flames licked at the walls, and the heat was suffocating, but she pushed forward, banging on doors as she went.

“Wake up!” she shouted, her voice raw. “Fire! Everyone out!”

Doors opened, frightened faces emerging as guests stumbled into the hallway, their disheveled appearances a stark contrast to the elegance of the evening before. Some were coughing, others clutching at each other as they tried to make sense of the chaos.

“This way!” Hillary directed them, guiding them toward the nearest exit. “Stay low and move quickly!”

As she reached the end of the hallway, she spotted an elderly couple struggling to navigate the smoke-filled corridor. Hillary rushed to their side, wrapping an arm around the woman’s waist and helping her forward. “We’re almost there,” she promised, though her own lungs burned with every breath.

The sound of breaking glass and the roar of flames followed her as she led the group to the main staircase. The fire had spread to the upper floors now, and the once-grand staircase was barely visible through the thick smoke.

“Hillary!” Russ’s voice cut through the chaos, and she turned to see him emerging from the west wing, a group of guests in tow. His face was grim, his shirt torn and his hair disheveled, but he was alive. “We need to move. Now.”

Together, they herded the remaining guests toward the front entrance, the heat and smoke chasing them every step of the way. The once-beautiful foyer was now a war zone, flames licking at the edges of the ornate woodwork as the fire consumed the house.

As the last of the guests stumbled outside, Hillary turned back, her heart pounding. “Is everyone out?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Russ nodded, his expression grim. “I think so. But the fire’s spreading too fast. We can’t go back in.”

Hillary’s chest tightened as she looked back at the house, the flames illuminating the night sky. The sound of sirens in the distance offered a small glimmer of hope, but it did little to quell the fear that gripped her.

Michael wasn’t just a desperate man. He was a monster. And he wasn’t finished yet.

“Where is Claire?” Madame Fournier asked breathlessly. “Where is she?”

CHAPTER 38

Russ stood in the chaos outside the blazing house, his chest tight with the smoke still clinging to his lungs. The once-pristine estate was now an inferno, flames licking at the night sky. The guests stumbled into the cool air, coughing and gasping, their disheveled forms a stark contrast to the polished elegance of the party mere hours ago.

"Where is Claire?" Madame Fournier’s panicked voice rang out over the noise, cutting through the clamor of voices and crackling fire.

Russ turned, scanning the crowd for any sign of her. Just as he was about to call out, a figure stumbled from the throng, her golden hair catching the light of the moon. Claire. She moved unsteadily, her face pale, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as though trying to hold herself together. Madame Fournier rushed forward, catching her before she could fall.

“Claire,” the older woman whispered, her composure breaking for the first time. She pulled her into a protective embrace, holding her tightly. “Thank God. Are you hurt?”

Claire shook her head, her voice trembling as she asked, “Is Grandmother out? Did you see her?”

“I’m here, darling,” her grandmother said gently. Claire’s head turned, and when she spotted her grandmother, her face crumpled. She threw her arms around her, clinging to her as if letting go wasn’t an option.

Russ gave them a brief moment before stepping forward. “We can’t stay here,” he said, his voice loud enough to carry over the noise. “We’re too exposed. If Michael is still out there, he could—” He cut himself off, glancing at the flames still roaring behind them. “We need to move. Now.”

People turned to him, their expressions full of desperation. They’d escaped the fire, but the night was far from over. The realization hit Russ like a punch to the gut: they weren’t safe yet.

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