Page 105 of The Duke's Sinful Bride

Then, as if a switch had been flipped, adrenaline surged through him. His feet carried him forward, each step determined, each stride filled with purpose.

“Killian, no!” Fiona’s desperate cry followed him, but he ignored her.

“Killian!” Edward shouted, reaching for Killian’s arm, but Killian yanked himself free.

“I will not stand here while my wife and child burn alive!” Killian roared, his voice filled with fury and anguish. His gaze locked on the inferno, unyielding.

The heat hit Killian before he even reached the door. It was suffocating, a blistering wall that threatened to push him back, but Killian pressed forward. The shouts behind him faded into the background as he crossed the threshold into the burning house.

His lungs screamed as they inhaled thick smoke, the stifling air making it hard to see or even breathe properly. The soot-filled air seemed to close in around him, and Killian realized belatedly that he should have brought a cloth to cover his face—a damp rag to protect his lungs from the smoke.

But it was too late to think of such things. In the panic and frenzy of the moment, all that mattered was reaching Yvette and Maisie.

The fire was all-consuming, the flames devouring everything in their path. The orange and red hues of the flames cast eerie shadows against the walls, twisting and flickering like demons in the night.

Heat radiated off the walls, burning Killian’s skin, but he pushed on, every instinct in him screaming to move faster. His eyes watered, the smoke and heat stinging them, but he kept his gaze fixed ahead, trying to pierce through the smoke and find any sign of his family.

It wasn’t going to be possible to find them just by wishful thinking; he knew that. The house was burning to the ground, and time was running out. Panic tried to claw at his chest, but he forced it down. He had to focus. He had to find them.

“Yvette!” he called out, his voice rough from the smoke that clogged his throat. His breath came in ragged gasps as he moved deeper into the inferno.

There was no response at first, no indication that his call had been heard. Killian’s heart raced in his chest, but he refused to stop. The silence that greeted him felt oppressive, like a weight pressing against his chest, suffocating him. He called her name again, his voice hoarse, “Yvette!”

Still, there was no answer.

He took another step, the floor beneath him creaking, threatening to collapse under the weight of the flames that raged around him. The smoke was thick now, so thick that he could barely keep his eyes open. He stumbled, but managed to catch himself on the frame of a door, his breath shallow and desperate. He called her name again, louder this time.

“Yvette!”

Nothing.

A voice in the back of his mind told him that it was too late, that the smoke would have overtaken them by now, that his wife and daughter were gone. But Killian refused to let the despair take hold. His fists clenched at his sides, and he called her name one more time, in desperation.

“Yvette!”

This time, a faint sound reached his ears. It was barely audible, but it was enough. He heard her voice, weak but unmistakable, a lifeline in the chaos.

“Killian,” she whispered, her voice tremulous but alive.

He nearly collapsed with relief. She was still here. She was still alive.

“Yvette, stay with me,” he called out, his voice strained as he fought to keep the panic from his voice. “Keep talking, I’m coming for you. I’m right here.”

Her voice came again, fainter now, but still there. “Killian… it’s so hot. I can’t breathe.”

“I’m coming,” he said, his voice breaking. He forced himself to push through the thick smoke, the flames dancing around him. He had to find her. He had to get her out of here.

As he continued moving forward—the smoke so thick now that it felt like a solid wall—his heart raced in time with his frantic steps.

The world seemed to narrow, and everything felt like a blur, but he focused on her voice. He would follow it to the ends of the earth if he had to.

“Yvette!” he shouted one last time.

And then, through the suffocating heat, he saw her.

There, on the floor, her back to the wall, Yvette was crouched over Maisie. Her face was smudged with soot, her hair disheveled, but it was her—she was alive.

Killian didn’t think twice. He rushed to her side, taking off his coat and stifling the flame around him to create a path.

---