Page 115 of The Shadow Sanctum

When I round the side of the building, my fear is confirmed. The air is black with it. Smoke pours from the broken windows and spills from the roofline in greedy plumes.

“Fuck,” I hiss, chest heaving.

I carry Luna to the tunnel entrance and try to decide if it’s a death sentence. I know too well the ruins left when a mansion burns. When the roof engulfs, it could—will—catch on a tree. The forest could be eaten within the hour.

But smoke rises.

The leaf-covered board hides the entrance. Made of wood.

If it catches fire…

I drop to my knees, lowering Luna beside me, bracing her head against my thigh. She coughs weakly as if the smoke is already irritating her lungs.

Think.

I yank up the board and sink it into snow. Cold bites at my hands as I pile the board as high as I can with nature's best protection. How fucking ironic that it’s my least favorite thing in the world that’s going to save our lives.

When I’m finished with the board, I rip my shirt over my head and plunge it into the snow, grinding it down until the fabric is soaked and freezing. I wring it once, then press it over Luna’s nose and mouth.

“To help you breathe,” I tell her, though she can’t hear me.

With one last glance at the Keep, I tuck Luna inside the tunnel, her limp body sprawling on the dirt floor. Then I get in after her and drag the board back into place, sealing us in shadow.

I breathe in as deeply as I can. The air is stale—but there’s only the faintest trace of smoke, probably what’s stuck in my nostrils.

I press close to Luna, our bodies fitting awkwardly in the cramped crawl space. Her lashes flicker, her jaw twitches under the wet fabric. I pull her tighter to me, my forehead against hers.

“You’re safe,” I whisper, though my voice shakes. “We’re safe.”

The earth presses in on every side. Damp walls scrape my shoulders, and the ceiling dips so low I can’t lift my head all the way. My knees dig into cold dirt, my arms locked around Luna.

Her breath is shallow against my chest, warm even through the soaked fabric. Each rise and fall feels too fragile, like it could stop any second. I adjust the cloth to ensure it isn’t sticking to her mouth and nose. My hand is miraculously steady.

“Stay with me,” I whisper. “Just keep breathing. That’s all you gotta do. In, out, easy.”

She tenses. Just barely.

“It’s all right,” I murmur, brushing my nose to her temple. “It’s okay now. You’re safe. I’ve got you. I’ll always have you.”

For a beat, nothing. Then her jaw works beneath my palm.

“Sawyer…”

I shut my eyes as relief crashes through me. My hand drags over her hair, tangling in the strands, holding her head steady. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She shifts against me, her lips moving under the fabric. I tug it aside.

Her voice is stronger this time, a whisper carving right through me. “Sawyer.”

“I’ve got you,” I say, my throat tight. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Not a shred of light spills into the tunnel, but I feel her gaze anyway.

And then she says it. Soft, but clear. “I love you.”

I close my eyes. There’s a swell in my chest, so strong it hurts.

My lips tremble against her hair as I kiss her. “I know,” I whisper, voice cracking. “I know, pretty girl. I love you too.”