Page 148 of Riordan's Revenge

Something cracked overhead or outside, and through the hole in the trapdoor, a rain of sparks flew.

Fire. The building was burning. It was smoke infecting my lungs.

“Fucking hell, do it.” He broke out in a coughing fit.

“Only if ye come with me.”

“I won’t fit. I can’t climb either. But I can get you out.” He didn’t wait for a reply, grabbing me by the waist and shoving me upwards with a grunt of distress.

I grasped the edges of the broken wood and pulled myself through, boosted by the man below me. Splinters scratched my skin, but I cleared the hole and crawled to the gravel path, taking deep gasps of the night air.

Blackness overtook me, and I lay on my back on the cold ground. A whomping, beating sound grew louder, and I opened my eyes to an intense red fire scaling the old church building above me. Fear chilled me to the core. I had to get out of here. At the corner to my right, carved rock broke free of the structure and tumbled to the ground, cracking in two. In horror, I gazed up at the bell tower high above me.

Finally, my body obeyed my need to move.

I crawled to the edge of the hole. My saviour had called it a coal chute and said he wouldn’t be able to get out. But the hole looked bigger now, and as I peered inside, there was no one down there.

“Hello?” I choked.

How long had I been unconscious this time? Long enough for him to get out? No answer came from below, but a bellow sounded down the track.

“Cassie!”

Riordan. My heart squeezed. I twisted around. The last thing I saw before his arms surrounded me and lifted me clear was the spire of the church tower crumbling and falling with a shower of fire and stone.

Chapter 47

Riordan

Masonry from the spire landed with thuds around us, and I burst up with Cassie in my arms then sprinted down the side of the church.

Another chunk of rock narrowly missed us, and sparks chased our flight.

We emerged to a new scene at the front. When I’d left Jamieson, it was to an empty street, even the neighbours knowing better than to investigate.

Now, the flashing blue lights of police cars battled the yellow and orange flames, and a fire engine wailed, coming in hot.

A number of other vehicles blocked the road further down, Arran and Cassie’s brothers leaping out with looks of shared fear.

“Get out of my crime scene,” one of the cops yelled at Arran.

He ignored him, not spotting us yet, and said something urgent to Sinclair.

In my arms, Cassie stirred.

I hugged her to me, my body close to collapse from the desperate fear of losing her. From finding her. From never wanting to let her go.

“Thank fuck.” Footsteps pounded the track behind.

Jamieson swung around us, his frantic expression mirroring how I felt inside. He palmed his sister’s face then swung to holler at his family, “She’s here. Riot got her out.”

He guided me clear of the church wall. Her brothers rushed up, Sinclair’s expression crumpling then reforming as he took in the girl he considered a daughter.

The huge man reached for her.

I gave her up.

Watched as he cradled her then turned away, my arms empty, my heart even more so. I couldn’t go far. I needed to stare a little longer. I needed to know she was okay, even if I wasn’t the person who got to make sure of it.

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