Page 102 of Revenge & Ruin

I don’t waste any more time. I can’t even bring myself to look at Isabella as I take off back to the burning brownstone.

I’d found Cas trying to escape out the back. She had been screaming about Rocco forcing her down the stairs first, only for them to fall away before he could follow her.

The back entrance is still, miraculously, accessible. But the burn on my thigh rears up angrily as I push through the door and back into the heart of it all.

The heat is unbearable. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s being seared as I push through the smoke-choked air, every breath scraping against my throat like sandpaper.

Flames lick the walls, tearing through the wallpaper, devouring every inch of the brownstone. The ceiling creaks above, each sound more ominous than the last, but I force myself forward. I’ve come too far to turn back now.

“Rocco!” I yell, my voice hoarse, barely audible over the crackling fire.

My eyes sting, watering as I strain to see through the thick smoke. The air is too hot, too thick, every breath filling my lungs with what feels like shards of glass.

But I won’t stop. Rocco’s in here, and I can’t leave him. Iwon’t.

A dark shape sprawled at the foot of the collapsed stairs catches my eye. My heart lurches. Did he fuckingjump?

I lunge forward, barely keeping my balance, as the floor beneath me gives an ominous groan.

There he is. Rocco is lying on his side, one arm stretched out, his face half-buried in ash and soot, chest barely moving. I drop to my knees beside him, ignoring the intense heat radiating from the floor, and grab his shoulder.

“Rocco!” I shake him, my hand sliding against his sweat-dampened shirt.

No response.

His face is smudged with soot, his skin pale beneath it. His eyes are closed, his body limp. I press two fingers against his neck, searching desperately for a pulse.

There it is. Faint but steady. Relief and dread twist together in my gut. I can’t let myself think about how much longer that will be the case.

I hook my arms under his shoulders and heave him up, his dead weight settling heavily against me. I stagger, almost falling, then adjust my hold and force myself to focus.

The back door might as well be a mile away. Every inch of the way back through the inferno leads us to encounter another obstacle.

A burning beam crashes down in front of us, sending up a shower of sparks. I jerk back, pulling Rocco with me, the flames licking so close I can feel them stinging my skin.

The floorboards creak ominously beneath us, but I press forward, dragging Rocco’s body with me.

Every muscle in my arms burns, every inch of my skin screams in pain, but I block it out. My lungs are raw from the smoke, my vision blurring, the fire painting everything in a hellish orange glow.

I grip him tighter, whispering, “Come on, Rocco. Just a little more.”

The air grows thicker and hotter, and each breath is a damn miracle. I stumble, nearly losing my grip as my foot snags onthe edge of a fallen table. The burn on that thigh is so blindingly painful that I almost pass out completely.

Rocco’s head lolls against my shoulder, his face smeared with ash, his breathing so shallow I can’t tell if he’s even still alive.

The weight of his body, the sight of his motionless form—my best friend, my brother—almost crushes me.What if I lose another sibling to the flames?

Finally, the door is just a few steps away when a sound tears through the roar of the fire—a violent, splintering crack.

I look up, heart racing, just as I see the ceiling beams above us start to buckle. The entire building is ready to come down, and we’re right beneath it.

I grit my teeth, gripping Rocco tighter as I stagger forward, forcing myself to move faster, each step a battle against my own weakening body.

Just before the back door, the wall beside us explodes in a wave of heat and sparks, the force knocking me off balance. I stumble, nearly going down, but I pull Rocco with me, keeping us both upright by sheer force of will.

We reach the doorway, and with a final burst of strength, I drag him over the threshold, gasping as we stumble out into the backyard.

But it’s only seconds before I hear it—the shuddering, groaning collapse of the brownstone as it finally gives way, falling into itself in a massive burst of fire and debris.

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