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“Take care of your brother,” he said, backing away. He ran through the barrels, his route the opposite way of the flames.
“Dad!”
My cry disappeared within the fire’s roar, its smoke billowing up and filling the room. I coughed, large flames eating the big machines.
“Someone help!” I screamed, rocking back and forth in my chair. I tugged at the tie on my wrists.
Pop! Pop! Pop!
The sounds of rapid fire surged the air, initial rounds followed by more. It sounded like gunshots, and I jumped so bad, I teetered.
My chair fell to the floor, my face slamming against concrete. I cried out, my shoulder and hip burning.
“Help!” I cried, my wrists tugging weakly at tethers. “Someone help me. Please!”
Nothing but roaring flames surrounded me, my legs kicking. My jeans caught on a part of the chair, and I realized I broke one of its legs in the fall.
Come on, Sloane. Come on.
I kicked at the chair, my own leg coming away free. Working onto my knees, I brought the rest of the chair with me. I might be able to get my hands out if…
“Miss Sloane!”
My head shot up, a man in a billed hat and dark suit coming over to me. I recognized him as Callum’s driver Lucas, and he had his gloved hand over his face, smoke completely around him.
“Lucas?” I gasped, the man nodding. “What are—”
“Are you hurt?” He went for my hands firsts, freeing them. Once he got them loose, he kicked the rest of the chair off me. “Can you stand?”
I was so frazzled he had to help me, physically picking me up. Keeping his back to the flames, Lucas shielded me, and he ran us out of the factory so quick the journey itself felt like a blur.
I coughed once outside, both of us. The night had turned to day, and once Lucas put me down, I wasn’t standing for long.
The flames blew out of the factory’s windows, a large explosion ringing the air. Lucas grabbed me, covering me.
“My dad!” I called out. “My dad’s in there.”
I didn’t know why I said that. After all that, I didn’t know why. Maybe it was the last things he said. How he’d loved me. How he told me to take care of Bruno. My father had a lot of mental health issues. But even with them all, he hadn’t been what he’d shown me inside.
He must have just gone over the edge.
Lucas didn’t let me up until the explosion calmed, and I must have still been yelling about my dad. He held my shoulders. “Your father is gone, Miss Sloane,” he said, shaking his head. “He fired on me, and I had to act.”
Fired on him?
He opened his jacket then, showing me what was inside. He had a gun, strapped. He nodded. “I’m Mr. Montgomery’s personal security as well as his driver.”
“What…” I gasped. “My dad’s gone?”
“He is.” His head lowered. “I’m sorry, but he didn’t survive. I fired a warning shot but…”
He didn’t survive.
But how was he alive? What happened and why did he come after me?
Lucas closed his jacket. “Are you okay? Can you get up?”
Again, he helped me up, and though my hip and shoulder hurt, it wasn’t because of the fall. Physically, I could stand just fine.
