Page 197 of Roulette Rodeo
The firefighters are shouting something, pointing at a section of the collapsed structure. There's movement, purposeful now instead of just containment. Did they find something? Someone?
"Red!" I scream again, fighting renewed against Malrik's hold. "RED!"
But there's no answer except the roar of flames consuming everything I should have let go of long ago, possibly taking the one person I can't let go of with them.
"Where's my omega?" I sob, the words barely intelligible now, just pure anguish given voice. "WHERE’S MY OMEGA!?"
SMOKE AND SALVATION
~RED~
Darkness presses against me like a physical weight, thick and suffocating.
There's no up or down here, just the crushing black and the taste of copper in my mouth. My head throbs in rhythm with my heartbeat—sharp, insistent pain that makes thinking feel like swimming through tar.
Barking.
The sound filters through the darkness, distant and muffled like it's coming through water. Again and again, desperate and frantic. Duke? It has to be Duke. That familiar cadence of his alarm bark, the one he uses when something's truly wrong.
"If this dog doesn't stop barking—" A man's voice, frustrated and exhausted, echoes from somewhere above.
"Wait." A woman's voice cuts through, and something in my chest clenches with recognition. I know that voice. Know it like I know my own heartbeat. "He has to be barking for a reason."
"For fuck's sake, he's been barking at collapsed buildings all night. He's probably traumatized?—"
"Will you shut up for two seconds?" The woman's voice sharpens with authority that makes even my barely conscious brain pay attention. "Jeez. You're such a cocky firefighter alpha."
"Listen here, Briar?—"
Briar.
My heart stutters, then races. Briar. Here. How?
"No, seriously, hush." Her voice drops, and I can picture her—hand raised for silence, head tilted as she listens with the hypervigilance that three years at the Crimson Roulette beats into you.
Silence falls except for Duke's continued barking and the distant sound of water on hot debris. There's shuffling above, footsteps on unstable ground, the scrape of something being moved.
I try to call out, try to make any sound, but my throat feels like I've swallowed glass. The attempt triggers a cough—weak, pathetic, but apparently enough.
"Shush!" Briar's voice is electric with hope. "I heard a cough."
"You're hallucinating," the firefighter says, but there's less certainty now. "Look, I know you said the omega here was an acquaintance, but come on. The structure's been collapsed for over an hour. No one could?—"
"Shut. Up." Each word is precisely enunciated, the kind of tone that used to make handsy alphas at the casino think twice. "Duke, is Red here? Is she here, boy?"
The barking becomes manic, and I hear scratching directly above me—claws on metal. He's found the hatch. Smart, brilliant, perfect dog.
"There's a hatch here," Briar declares, voice rising with excitement. "Hey! Help me move all this wood. Hurry!"
"This is ridiculous?—"
"If I'm fucking right," she cuts him off with vicious precision, "you're going to be in the doghouse begging to even be in the same room as me. Now MOVE."
He shuts up but I hear him grumbling as he calls out, "Team! Over here! Possible survivor!"
The sounds above become purposeful chaos—wood being shifted, debris cleared, multiple voices coordinating the effort. Each crash and scrape reverberates through my skull like thunder, but I fight to stay conscious. Fight to be ready when—if—they break through.
My vision grays at the edges, consciousness flickering like a dying lightbulb. In and out, the darkness pulling at me with seductive fingers. It would be so easy to let go, to sink into the nothing where pain doesn't exist.
