Page 52 of The One Who Changed Everything

Evan smirked. “See? You can let me take care of you a little.”

I shot him a look. “Don’t push your luck.”

But as I walked beside him, I couldn't fight the tiny smile tugging at my lips.

Because the truth was, it felt good—being seen, being cared for.

And maybe I was finally ready to let him take care of me. A little.

CHAPTER 20

Evan

The flames roared around me as I charged back into the burning apartment complex, the heat touching my skin even through my protective gear. Smoke billowed thick and acrid, stinging my eyes and lungs, even with the mask and SCBA I wore. But I couldn't stop. Not when there might still be people trapped inside, relying on me to save them. We’d cleared everything but the second floor, and the neighbors thought the old man in Unit 2D had been home.

"Eli, take the west corridor!" My voice didn't waver. It couldn't; too many were counting on me.

"Copy that, Evan," came the crackled response over the radio. I could hear the man’s trust in my decision.

"Keep talking, and watch for structural damage," I reminded them, though they knew this dance as well as I did. We'd trained for moments like these, when the world narrowed down to flames and survival.

I moved methodically from room to room, my senses straining for any sign of life amidst the smoke-filled air. Sweat poured down my face, my breathing labored, echoing in my ears through the mask. Yet a strange calm settled over me, the kindthat only comes when you're doing exactly what you were meant to do.

I opened the door to what I assumed was a bedroom. There, I finally spotted him, huddled by the closet, near the floor where the air would be cleanest.

“I’ve got him.” I looked back toward the hallway and grimaced at the rapidly deteriorating conditions before shutting the door behind me. “I don’t know if we can make it back. I need ex-fil from the Bravo side.” We’d just have to go out the window.

I held out my hand to the man, just as a thunderous groan shook the structure. I whipped my head up to see the ceiling buckle, then give way with a deafening crack. Flaming debris rained down, headed straight for the man cowering against the wall.

I lunged forward, covering him with my body. Fiery chunks of wood and plaster struck my back, but I barely felt them. All that mattered was shielding this stranger with my own body, keeping him safe.

As the dust began to settle, I found myself somewhere else entirely. Somewhere I tried never to go. The scent of smoke gave way to the stench of stale beer and sweat. Pulsing lights and throbbing music filled my head. Screams of terror, not from this fire, but from one long ago.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the onslaught of memory, but it was too late. I was back in that nightclub, desperately searching for my little brother amidst the chaos. The sickening realization that I'd failed him, that I hadn't been there when he needed me most. The guilt, the grief, the searing pain that never fully healed.

"Mercer, status?" The chief's voice cut through the noise.

Tears burned my cheeks as I clung to the trapped man, my breath coming in ragged gasps. I knew I had to keep going, had to finish the job.

I choked out a response, forcing the last bit of air from my crushed lungs. “Trapped. Ceiling. Bedroom.”

My vision blurred, and the world tilted sideways. I fought to stay conscious, to push through the pain and the memories. But it was a losing battle.

"Mercer! Mercer, you copy?" Someone was shouting my name, their voice barely reaching me.

The last thing I saw was my brother’s face—not the man I was shielding, but Mason, caught in the haze of smoke and memory, his features blurred by soot and shadow, just like that night all those years ago. Even though I hadn’t found him that night, this was how I always saw him.

In the end, it didn't matter how many times I faced down the beast or how many lives I saved. The one that mattered most was beyond my reach, a debt I could never repay.

Then the darkness took me, and I saw no more.

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The sterile beep of machines pulled me back from the void, their rhythm steady and reassuring. I blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital room, so different from the flickering dance of flames I last remembered.

I tried to speak, but it came out more as a moan. The air here was devoid of smoke, replaced by the antiseptic tang that clung to the back of my throat. My limbs felt heavy, leaden, reluctant to respond after being rag-dolled by falling timber and the fierce grip of unconsciousness.

A gentle squeeze on my hand drew my awareness. Blinking against the fluorescent glare, I turned my head and found Samantha standing by my side, her fingers entwined with mine.

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