Page 33 of Owned In Misty Mountain

I choke on the smoke—but manage a sound. Something like a sob. Something like his name.

Then suddenly—

Hands.

Big ones. Strong. Rough. Real.

He’s here.

He hauls me into his arms like I weigh nothing. Wraps me in his shirt, shielding my face, and charges back through the smoke with me pressed to his chest.

I can’t talk. Can’t think.

But I can feel.

The arms around me.

The heartbeat in his chest.

He came forme.

Fifteen

Mike

The heat hits me first.

Then the smoke—thick and clinging.

The air inside burns my lungs.

Everything’s orange, dark, and wrong.

“Shanay!” I roar.

“Shanay!”

I hear something—

A faint cough. A voice.

“Back here—!”

I shove through the collapsed shelf, push past flaming wood, splintered beams.

I find her crouched near the back wall, surrounded by fallen books and debris, hands over her mouth, eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

“Mike?”

Her croaky voice guts me.

I drop to my knees beside her.

“Yeah, baby. I’m here. I’ve got you.”

She tries to stand. Wobbles. I lift her.

She clutches my neck like a lifeline.

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