Page 45 of Playing with Fire

Cold rage crystallized in my veins as I checked the magazine and slid the gun into my waistband. This might’ve been another attack, another of Phoenix’s targets. Neither of us said it, but we were both thinking it.

"We need to get everyone out," Leo said, scrambling to pull on my black hoodie.

"I'll get Mom and Tatty," I said, already moving to the door. "Dad and Yuri’s room is at the end of the hall."

I shoved into the hallway, expecting to collide with Mom rushing to alert us. Nothing. The corridor stretched before me, dark and silent.

"Mom! Fire!" I shouted, already moving down the hallway. "Get up! Now!"

Doors flew open. Mom appeared in her doorway, instantly alert.

"It's the funeral home," I said, not breaking stride.

That was all she needed. No questions, no hesitation. She grabbed her go-bag in one fluid motion. "The lockbox—"

"On it," I cut her off, already heading for the stairs. "Get Dad out. Call River."

Leo was right behind me, keeping pace as we rushed down the stairs and out the door. Outside, the night air hit like a slap, heavy with smoke and chemical stink. The funeral home blazed against the night sky, orange flames devouring the Victorian facade.

"Fuck," Leo muttered, taking in the inferno.

I was already calculating the fastest route through the burning building. The lockbox was in Dad's office—three minutes in, maybe less. It contained every document that could destroy us: the real death certificates, the altered coroner's reports, the evidence of what we really did with certain bodies. If investigators found it...

"Xavier, wait!" Leo grabbed my arm, pulling me back with surprising strength. "You can't go in there!"

"I have to," I pulled free. "If I don't get that lockbox, my whole family could go to prison!"

"I'm not letting you die for a box!" Leo planted himself in front of me, eyes wild with determination. "The chemicals could blow any second. They'redesignedto, remember? That's why your dad keeps the embalming chemicals in that special storage room!"

"Move," I growled, the instinct to protect my family overriding everything else.

"No!" His hands pressed against my chest, refusing to budge.

A thunderous boom cut through his words. The ground beneath us shook as the back corner of the funeral home erupted in a fireball, windows shattering outward. The chemical storage had ignited.

I lunged for Leo, tackling him to the ground and covering his body with mine as debris rained down around us. Heat washed over my back in a suffocating wave, the scent of burning chemicals searing my nostrils. I kept him pinned beneath me until the initial blast subsided, shielding him from the worst of it.

"Xavier!" Leo gasped, his hands frantically checking me for injuries as I rolled off him. "Are you burned? Are you okay?"

I nodded, ears ringing as I stared at the flames devouring the funeral home. The lockbox, the evidence, everything—gone.

Mom and Dad rushed toward us from the house. "Are you hurt?" Mom demanded, eyes scanning us for injuries.

I was too busy checking Leo for injuries to answer, my hands running over his arms, his face, his chest. "You okay? Any burns? Anything cut?"

"I'm fine," he assured me, catching my hands. "You protected me. We're both okay."

The relief that flooded through me was almost painful in its intensity. Leo was safe. That's what mattered most. Not the evidence, not the business, not anything else.

"The files," Dad said, his voice hollow as he stared at the inferno that had been his business for decades.

Dad stood frozen, watching flames devour the building he'd poured his life into. His face crumpled with genuine grief, not just for the lost evidence, but for the business he'd built with his own hands. The place where he'd spent countless hours perfecting his craft, taking pride in giving the dead dignity in their final journey.

"Thirty years," he whispered, his Russian accent thickening with emotion. "All those people I helped... their families..." His hands trembled as he reached toward the inferno, a futile gesture of longing.

Mom slipped her arm around him, her own expression hardening into resolve. "We'll rebuild, Yuri. Every brick. Better than before. But first, we contain the damage."

She turned to me. "I'll call Ash. His FBI connections might help."

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