Page 108 of Playing with Fire

"If we don't make it," I started to say, but Leo cut me off.

"We will," he insisted, his grip tightening on the improvised stretcher. "I didn't walk into this inferno to die in it."

The steel in his voice, the absolute refusal to accept defeat, made me proud. This was the Leo few people ever saw. Not just the gentle tech expert, but the survivor. The fighter. The man who had walked through fire for me.

Together, we pushed forward, step by agonizing step, the weight of Algerone and our makeshift transport growing heavier as the air became thinner. My muscles burned with fatigue, the cut on my leg throbbing with each step, but I forced myself onward. Through the smoke, I caught glimpses of flashlights ahead, heard voices calling, directing us toward safety.

And then suddenly we were through, stumbling out into the night air that felt impossibly sweet after the toxic fumes inside. Rain poured from the dark sky, cool droplets hissing as they struck our overheated skin and gear. Commander Reid and his team rushed forward to help, taking over the stretcher as Leo and I collapsed to our knees in the mud, gasping for breath, the downpour soaking us to the bone in seconds.

Behind us, the building gave way with a deafening roar, the main structure finally surrendering to the fire that had been consuming it from within. The collapse sent a wave of heat washing over us, followed by a shower of embers and ash that mingled with the rain, sizzling as they fell around us like some apocalyptic storm.

I turned to Leo, who had removed his smoke mask and was coughing violently, bent over as his lungs fought to expel the smoke he'd inhaled. Rainwater streamed down his face, cutting clean paths through the soot and grime. Without thinking, I pulled him into my arms, holding him tightly against me as we both trembled with adrenaline and exertion and relief, the rain washing over us in sheets.

"You idiot," I murmured against his hair. "You absolute reckless idiot."

Leo's arms tightened around me, his fingers digging into my back. "I told you," he gasped between coughs. "I knew you wouldn't stay behind if it were me. Did you really think I would?"

I pulled back just enough to look at his face, taking in the soot-streaked features now being washed clean by the rain, the reddened eyes, the exhaustion. And the sheer stubborn determination that had brought him into that burning building after me. In that moment, with the heat of Felix's creation still searing my skin and rain cooling my burns, I saw Leo with a clarity I'd never had before. Not just as someone to possess, to control, to protect—but as my equal. My partner. The missing element that transformed me from a solitary hunter to something more.

Behind us, the mill collapsed completely, sending a plume of embers and smoke billowing into the night sky. The final death throes of Felix's grand design, his perfect trap that had failed to claim its intended victims.

Not because I'd outsmarted him. Not because I'd been stronger or faster or more skilled. But because I hadn't been alone.

"We need to get you all checked out," Reid said, approaching with medical personnel in tow. "Especially Mr. Etremont. His injuries appear severe."

I glanced over at Algerone, now surrounded by paramedics preparing him for transport. His eyes found mine across the distance, and something unspoken passed between us. Not forgiveness, not yet. But recognition. Acknowledgment of the bond that had driven me back into that burning building for him.

"Come on," Leo said softly, his hand finding mine. "Let's get you looked at. That cut on your leg needs stitches."

As we walked toward the waiting ambulance, I noticed Maxime sprinting across the perimeter, his usual composed demeanor shattered as he rushed toward the stretcher where Algerone lay. The raw emotion on his face, the desperate need to confirm with his own eyes that Algerone still lived—it was a side of Maxime I'd never seen. A glimpse of the man behind the perfectly polished façade, the depths of feeling he'd hidden for decades.

The truth about what Maxime had done would come out, but not tonight.

What mattered was that we'd survived. All of us. We'd faced Felix's fire and emerged scarred but alive. The burns would heal. The memories would fade. And what remained would be stronger for having been tested.

Leo's hand was warm in mine, his fingers interlacing with my own in a way that felt both new and familiar. I could feel his pulse against my skin, steady and reassuring. Present. Alive.

And whatever came next, whatever healing or confrontation or reconciliation waited on the horizon, we would face it together. That wasn't just a promise or a plan. It was a certainty as fundamental as the laws of combustion. As inevitable as the transformation that follows fire.

Ireallywishedthatbeeping monitor would shut the fuck up.

The hospital room swarmed with the incessant beeping of monitoring equipment, every sound cataloging my weakness. My body had become a battlefield of competing discomforts: oxygen forcing itself through the nasal cannula, skin pulling tight where fourteen stitches closed the gash on my leg, burns scattered across my arms and back reminding me with each breath that I'd survived what should have killed me.

What would have killed me if Leo hadn't been so goddamn stubborn.

I turned my head to watch him. He'd fallen asleep in the recliner beside my bed, his body surrendering to exhaustion hours ago. The doctors had tried to admit him for his own smoke inhalation, but he'd refused to leave me. Even in sleep, his body betrayed the price he'd paid. Burns marked his exposed forearms. One hand was wrapped in gauze where he'd grabbed a super heated doorknob. His chest rose and fell with the slightly irregular rhythm of smoke-damaged lungs.

The memory of him appearing through that wall of flames sent electricity through my veins, a mixture of fury and something possessive that made my fingers curl into fists. He'd promised to stay behind, had looked me in the eye and lied. And I couldn't even hate him for it because that lie had saved both me and Algerone.

Xion sat in the darkened corner like a shadow given form, his knife dancing between his fingers in that restless motion he fell into when worried. He hadn't said much since arriving, but his presence spoke volumes. Xander had claimed the windowsill, his legs swinging in barely contained energy as he scrolled through his phone, occasionally murmuring updates about Felix Burns' death hitting underground forums.

My siblings. My responsibility.

Xion's eyes met mine. "Algerone's out of surgery," he said, voice pitched low to avoid waking Leo. "They removed the rebar fragments. Spinal cord intact."

"Maxime?" I asked, knowing Xion would have been watching him too.

"Haven't seen him leave the ICU waiting area. Looks like hell."

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