27
TEO
Despite the raging heat that singes my very skin, every cell in my body freezes at the sound of her voice.
This is the only thing that could have made me wait a second longer. The only thing that could stop me from attempting to rescue my best friend.
A ghost.
Ida Natali.
In the flesh.
And staring down at Isabella as if she were nothing more than the scum on her shoe.
“I always thought out of the two of you, Leon would be the bigger disappointment,” she leers.
My fingers twitch.
I could do it now. I could silence her forever. She wouldn’t say another damn word to Isabella, and I would be able to restat last, knowing that my sister’s murderer had finally met her justice.
“Teo, please.”
Cassandra sobs on the ground. Her arm reaches out to me as her heart visibly breaks in front of my eyes. None of this can be good for the baby, but if Rocco doesn’t make it out alive, I think Cas might die, too.
“Go, Teo. She’s not going anywhere.”
I turn in surprise to see Leon pulling himself to his full, towering height. His ruthless glare, however, is directed at his mother.
I don’t waste any more time. I can’t even bring myself to look at Isabella as I take off back to the burning brownstone.
I’d found Cas trying to escape out the back. She had been screaming about Rocco forcing her down the stairs first, only for them to fall away before he could follow her.
The back entrance is still, miraculously, accessible. But the burn on my thigh rears up angrily as I push through the door and back into the heart of it all.
The heat is unbearable. Every inch of my skin feels like it’s being seared as I push through the smoke-choked air, every breath scraping against my throat like sandpaper.
Flames lick the walls, tearing through the wallpaper, devouring every inch of the brownstone. The ceiling creaks above, each sound more ominous than the last, but I force myself forward. I’ve come too far to turn back now.
“Rocco!” I yell, my voice hoarse, barely audible over the crackling fire.
My eyes sting, watering as I strain to see through the thick smoke. The air is too hot, too thick, every breath filling my lungs with what feels like shards of glass.
But I won’t stop. Rocco’s in here, and I can’t leave him. Iwon’t.
A dark shape sprawled at the foot of the collapsed stairs catches my eye. My heart lurches. Did he fuckingjump?
I lunge forward, barely keeping my balance, as the floor beneath me gives an ominous groan.
There he is. Rocco is lying on his side, one arm stretched out, his face half-buried in ash and soot, chest barely moving. I drop to my knees beside him, ignoring the intense heat radiating from the floor, and grab his shoulder.
“Rocco!” I shake him, my hand sliding against his sweat-dampened shirt.
No response.
His face is smudged with soot, his skin pale beneath it. His eyes are closed, his body limp. I press two fingers against his neck, searching desperately for a pulse.
There it is. Faint but steady. Relief and dread twist together in my gut. I can’t let myself think about how much longer that will be the case.
