The office door slammed open. Bryce rushed into the room, his golden hair a snarled mess, his eyes wild. "Have you seen Parker? Where is she?"
"I'm not telling you," Griffen said, one eyebrow raised at Bryce.
"No," Bryce rushed on, "you don't understand. Tyler didn't leave. He didn't leave! I went to the garage to see if my car was there and it is. All the cars are here. He's still here. Why did he make us think he was leaving if he's still here? I went upstairs to talk to Parker. She's not answering the door, and the guard is gone."
Griffen and I were on our feet in an instant, the two of us racing for the door. Bryce followed behind, babbling, "I thought it was just a game, a little fun. I didn't mean anything with the dumbwaiter. But now I think he really wants to hurt her, maybe kill her."
Filing away Bryce's words for later, I focused on Griffen. "She was in our rooms," I said as we bolted for the stairs. "I don't have the key. Maybe Hawk–"
As if I'd conjured him out of thin air, Hawk came tearing around the corner, headed for the stairs to the second level. "I lost contact with Len," he said in explanation. "Where's Parker?"
"We don't know," Griffen answered, "And Tyler is still on the property."
Hawk cast us an incredulous look. "You thought he left?"
"We should have confirmed," Griffen admitted. "That fucking bastard. With Len on Parker–"
We never made it to the family wing. Once we hit the end of the main hall, we all stopped for a split second. I'd never seen the lights on in the stairwell to the attic.
"This way," I called out, racing up the stairs.
The attic was flooded with light, flickering red at the furthest end. The acrid stench of smoke hit me a second later. No! I sprinted for the fire, but when I got there, I couldn't get close enough to the door to open it.
I lunged for it anyway, losing my balance as a hand closed over the collar of my shirt and hauled me back. Hawk.
"Wait," he said, "Griffen's got this."
Then Griffen was there in front of me, a red fire extinguisher in his hands. He pulled the trigger and, with a violent hiss and a cloud of white, attacked the fire.
The second the fire was out, I pulled my shirt over my mouth to filter out the smoke and reached in to unlock the door, ignoring the burn of the deadbolt on my skin. Nothing mattered but getting to Parker.
ChapterForty-One
PARKER
The clock was ticking, running down faster than I could keep up.
I yanked at the length of velvet still wrapped around the bolt and pulled it over Sterling's face, doing the same for Len with another bolt of fabric, this one lighter than the velvet, but thick enough to keep out the smoke. For a while. Despite the fabric I'd shoved in the crack at the bottom of the door, smoke was infiltrating the closet, displacing the breathable air.
I'd done my best with the scissors, working at the lock, desperately trying to pry the door open. I wasn't surprised Heartstone Manor was still standing after a hundred years, even with my father's recent neglect. Every inch of the fucking place was solid as a rock, even the door to a forgotten closet in the attic.
Smoke burned in my lungs, sending me into a spasm of coughs that doubled me over, body heaving. I needed air. I should be on the ground. I was supposed to get low in a fire, to stay away from the smoke. Not going to happen. We only had minutes until there was more smoke than air in here.
I'm no fire expert, but I knew it wouldn't be the fire that killed us. No, by the time the greedy flames ate through the door, Sterling, Len, and I would be long dead from smoke inhalation. Funny how that wasn't the least bit comforting.
I wasn't ready to die. Of fire, smoke, it didn't matter. I wasn't going anywhere. I had a life to live, a beautiful future I wanted to grab with both hands, a family I needed to get to know, and a man I'd been waiting for since the day we met.
I was not going to let Tyler take any of it from me. He'd taken enough already. I spun around, looking one more time for something, anything, I could use to get through that door. The same trunk of fabric, boxes of papers, and ancient sewing machine stared back at me. Nothing.
I took shallow breaths through my cardigan, my body shaking as I struggled to fight back the next coughing fit. Almost out of time, and I had nothing. Sterling and Len needed me to save them and all I had was a pair of scissors.
I heard something outside the door. The fire? The rest of the attic was likely already engulfed in flames, I realised with a wave of nausea and another wracking cough. Even if I got the door open, we'd never make it all the way to the stairs through the fire. Was it better to die of the smoke? Did it matter?
I leaned against the wall beside the door, dizzy, sweat and tears stinging my eyes, and wished I'd had more time. With Nash. With my sisters, my brothers. My knees folded, my back sliding against the unfinished planks of the wall, sinking to the floor, head spinning.
I wanted more. Instead, it was all over. Too soon.
At first, I thought the wash of air across my face was a dream, the white cloud my entry to heaven. My eyelids were too heavy, glued shut, burning. Sounds crowded around me, shouts, all delusion. Was there shouting in heaven?
