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“Do you smell that?”

Milo’s brow furrows as he sniffs the air.

“Is that smoke?” I ask, a sudden wave of dread washing over me.

“Fuck.” He grabs my hand and pulls me to my feet, only to stop before we reach the stairs. “Wait.”

Before I can ask what he’s doing, he grabs the hem of his T-shirt and tears off a long strip of fabric. He presses it into my hand, then rips off another piece for himself.

“Cover your mouth and nose with this. Try not to breathe in the smoke, okay?”

I nod, pressing the fabric against my face as Milo does the same with his own.

We hurry down the stairs, and by the time we reach the ground floor, there’s no mistaking the smell. A thin haze of smoke hangs in the air, drifting from one of the rooms on the left side of the building.

“Oh my God.” I freeze at the sight of flames licking their way up a stack of old cardboard boxes. “We need to get out of here.”

“Hang on.” Milo releases my hand and shrugs off his jacket.

“What are you doing?”

“It’s just a few boxes, Max. I can put it out.”

Before I can argue, he rushes toward the flames, holding his breath as he throws his jacket over the burning cardboard. He beats at it several times, smothering the fire beneath the thick fabric until the last of the flames disappears.

“Milo!”

“It’s okay. It’s okay. I got it.”

He lifts the edge of his jacket to make sure nothing is still burning, then steps back, coughing as he presses the strip of his T-shirt against his mouth again. The cardboard is blackened and smoldering, but at least the fire is out.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding, while watching the last wisps of smoke curl toward the ceiling.

“Come on. Let’s get some fresh air.”

He grabs my hand, and together we hurry toward the exit, leaving the ruined boxes behind. We burst through the doors into the cool night air, only to find Peyton standing a short distance away with the rest of the Reds, casually flicking a lighter open and shut, taking a drag of her cigarette before passing it to Jordan beside her.

“Are you fucking insane?!” Milo roars, marching straight toward her.

Peyton looks up, a smug smile spreading across her face.

“Told you I’d get them out,” she announces to her friends, giving them a conspiratorial wink.

The rest of the Reds laugh, apparently amused by the whole thing.

Milo stops in front of her, never once releasing my hand.

“You set the fucking building on fire?”

“Oh, relax, Milo.” Peyton waves a dismissive hand. “It’s not like I burned the whole place down. I just needed to get your attention.”

“By starting a fucking fire?!”

“Well, you weren’t answering me, were you?” she snaps, her smile disappearing. “What was I supposed to do? Stand around all night waiting for you to grow a pair and come talk to me?”

Milo stares at her in disbelief.

“No. You’re not insane. You’re fucking psychotic. How the hell did I never see this before?”