Page 50 of When You're Lost

Staggering, they inched toward the only visible exit—a side corridor leading to the main gallery.Flames leapt across the threshold, but a quick glimpse revealed partial clearance..

Mary gritted her teeth.“He must have deactivated the sprinkler system.It’s all on fire.We need an alternate route.”

Eleanor shook her head, scanning desperately.“No time.The main entrance might be blocked, and Harrison’s office is behind us… c’mon!”

Together, they navigated the corridor, ducking past collapsed frames and gutted display cases.The heat intensified, sweat pouring down Finn’s forehead, stinging his eyes.He tried not to focus on the pain in his shoulder or the taste of blood in his mouth.

The corridor finally opened to the main gallery hall.Tall sculptures stood draped in flames, and thick black smoke clung to the ceiling.They kept low, half-crawling, half-limping, guided by flickering emergency lights.

“Almost there,” Mary croaked, coughing uncontrollably.“The front doors—this way!”

A massive chunk of burning ceiling crashed down, blocking the direct path.Sparks erupted in all directions, forcing them to veer left.The gallery’s glass entrance loomed a short distance away, though half the windows were spider-webbed with cracks from the explosion’s shock wave

They took a final run for it.The glass slid open an inch—perhaps the mechanism had partially broken.Finn pressed an elbow into the gap, pain shooting through him, but managed to pry it aside.Searing smoke spilled out into the night as they stumbled onto the pavement, coughing in the relative safety of the cool evening air.

They collapsed onto the ground, the concrete oddly cool beneath them.Eleanor dropped to her knees, pressing a shaky hand to Finn’s chest, checking for signs of major injury.Mary gasped for breath, tears streaming from the combination of relief and trauma.

Finn blinked spots from his eyes, still dizzy from smoke inhalation.The sound of crackling fire behind them was deafening.Alarm bells rang out in the distance, and he glimpsed flickers of red and blue from approaching emergency vehicles.

Sinking onto his back, Finn forced a wheezy nod.The killer was gone—David had perished in his own twisted inferno.Finn didn't want to see anyone go out like that.The Great Fire of London had indeed been re-enacted, but they had survived.He tried to speak but ended in a fit of coughing.

Eleanor brushed soot from her face, leaning over him.“Stay still,” she muttered, voice tight with concern.“You’re injured, and the paramedics are coming.”

Mary, still on her hands and knees, turned to the sound of sirens.“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though it wasn’t clear if it was directed at Finn, at the gallery behind them, or at the memory of all that had happened.

Finn closed his eyes, letting the swirl of night air soothe his burned lungs.In the distance, the fire brigade screeched to a halt, hoses unspooling, water jets blasting at the blazing gallery.Shouts and commands merged with the roar of the flames, forming an orchestra of chaos.

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Finn stood just beyond the remnants of the Blackthorn Gallery, the night air surprisingly cold against his face.The acrid scent of burnt wood and chemicals hung thick around him.Behind him, firefighters sprayed powerful jets of water at the smoldering skeleton of the once-elegant building.Ambulances and police cars crowded the street, their flashing lights dancing across the broken glass littering the pavement.

Although the immediate danger had passed, Finn’s heart still hammered with adrenaline.Smoke stung his eyes as he watched paramedics finishing up with the last of the injured—a few gallery staff who’d managed to escape.He himself stood with one foot braced, unsteady from the debris that had clipped him when the ceiling collapsed.His head still rang from the explosion that had torn the place apart just minutes ago.He pressed a hand gingerly to his bruised ribs, wincing at the tenderness.

A gentle voice pulled him from his daze.“Finn?”

He turned, blinking.Amelia hurried toward him, her expression taut with concern.She wove between two uniformed officers, ignoring their attempts to stop her from entering the cordoned-off area.Spotting him at last, she rushed up and touched his shoulder.Even in the harsh red-and-blue flicker of the emergency lights, Finn could see the relief flooding her features.

“Amelia…” he breathed, letting out a shaky exhale he hadn’t realized he was holding.

She reached up, brushing a smear of soot from his cheek.“Are you all right?I heard about the explosion on the radio.”

Finn nodded, feeling an ache in his side as he shifted.“Yeah, but we got out in one piece… mostly.”He forced a small smile.“One of the gallery staff was the killer.He built a bomb...You’re okay?Did you find Wendell Reed?”

Amelia’s lips curved in a fleeting smile.“No, we couldn't find him.As soon as I heard about the fire, I came here.”

He studied her face, the swirl of fatigue and worry in her eyes."Glad you're safe," he said softly, resting a hand on top of hers."Maybe we should try a different career.We could go to Florida, where I grew up, and give tours on the swamps?"

Amelia laughed.“I don't think I'm a swamp kind of a girl.And you'd hate not chasing down criminals.”

“True,” he said, wincing.

She nodded, eyes flicking to the battered ambulance a few feet away.“Finn, you want me to get one of the paramedics?”

He shook his head, wincing at the movement."Already did a once-over.Bruises probably cracked a rib, but nothing that requires an immediate trip to the hospital."

Amelia pursed her lips.“At least promise me you’ll see a doctor in the morning?”

Finn let out a tight laugh.“I promise to do my best.”

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