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Then, with one gasp, a new smell prickled into my lungs. I whimpered and gagged, and recognition clicked.
Gasoline. It smelled like gasoline. Why—
Liquid splashed against the side of my crate, and the smell got thicker. There was a click and a hiss, and then a warbling sound that made my blood run even colder. I banged my fists against the boards wildly. “No, no, let me out. Let meout!”
The men just snickered as their footsteps thumped off. A hint of smoke tickled into my nose, and the rising crackle filled my ears. My pulse lurched twice as hard as before.
They’d set the building on fire. They were burning it down around us—leavingusto burn in it.
I knew that. I knew I had to get out; I had to get to Rowan; we had to run for it. If we stayed here, we’d die for sure.
But even with the smoke curling through the tiny crevices between the plywood slats and fiery heat starting to waft in with it, I couldn’t shake myself free of the panic’s hold. The old fear had dug its claws deep into my brain. I kept gasping and sputtering, my heart pounding so fast it dizzied me.
Come on, Mercy, I thought.Come on, come on.And in the back of my mind the concrete lid slammed shut over the pit again, just after I’d gotten one last glimpse of Dad’s sadistic grin.
Something thumped against the outer wall of the crate. There was a ragged breath and a groan. “Mercy?” Rowan’s voice said, weak and wavering.
Tears flooded my eyes. It took me a second before I could work any words out of my constricted throat. “Rowan. Are you—I can’t—I don’t know—” I couldn’t even pull more than three words together into any kind of coherence.
Even as rough as he sounded, he managed to speak with the same warm assurance he’d always had. “Don’t worry about me. You need to get out of there.” He paused with a muffled grunt. “You—you can do this. Just focus on me. Focus on my voice. I’m right here with you, and I’m not going anywhere. I’ll always be here.”
His words sank in through the haze of panic just like they had all those years ago when he’d found me trapped in the cabinet in the museum, the day we’d really become friends. I gulped the smoky air and clung on to the sense of calm he was projecting as hard as I could.
“I’m trying,” I said, noticing the pain in my thigh again, my body shuddering with it in the growing heat. “I’m trying.”
“You’re doing great. You’ll get there. Just keep—just keep going, one step at a time, one thought at a time. You’re in control. You can handle this.”
My heartbeat started to even out, my chest loosening. I squeezed my eyes shut, seeing him slumped against the other side of the crate, giving everything he had to talk me through this moment. Resolve cracked through the rest of the turmoil that’d gripped me.
Icouldhandle this, and I wasn’t going to die here. I wasn’t going to lethimdie. Those bastards weren’t going to win.
I heaved myself upright, slamming my shoulder into the lid of the crate. The Storm’s men had weighed it down with something, but it creaked at the impact. Ignoring the pain searing through my injured leg, I braced both hands against the scratchy plywood and heaved as hard as I could, up and away from where Rowan was sprawled.
The lid slid to the side with a scraping sound. I shoved again, and it toppled right off. Swallowing a whimper at the agony lancing through my thigh, I hauled myself up over the top and dropped to the floor next to Rowan.
He was lying right where I’d imagined him, his eyes closed other than brief twitches of his eyelids, his face sallow. His breath rattled in his throat. He’d passed out while I was freeing myself from the crate. Blood smeared the floor all around him.
The smoke was congealing thicker around us, my skin prickling with the heat. The flames had engulfed most of the crates around us. The inferno roared so loud my eardrums ached.
I coughed and smacked Rowan’s cheeks. “Wake up. Please, Rowan, wake up!”
He didn’t stir. Fresh tears stung my eyes.
I couldn’t leave him here. No fucking way.
I hobbled around him, hissing every time I put any weight on my bad leg, and curled my arms under his until my elbows locked into his armpits. Clenching my jaw, I heaved us both backward. Again. And again. Dragging him toward the doorway slowly but surely.
More blood oozed out of his wounds. The sight of it and the limpness of his body made me want to lie down and give up. Pain screamed through my body, but the scream of refusal rang out inside me even louder.
I wasn’t losing him again. I simplywasn’t.
That defiance and the adrenaline coursing through my veins propelled me onward. The flames licked closer, scorching Anthea’s lovely dress and singing my hair. I winced at the sting but kept pulling, Rowan’s body jerking along in my grasp a couple of feet at a time.
The Storm’s men had smashed the crate Rowan had wedged by the door as they’d come in. I was grateful for their destructive inclinations now. I smacked aside the scattered boards, some of them already sizzling, and hauled Rowan out into the cooler night air.
I couldn’t stop there on the doorstep. The flames lashed after us, roaring up to the doorway. And Rowan needed help. I heaved him and heaved again, over to where the convertible was parked with its crumpled back end. The Storm people had driven off in their cars. The road was clear again.
“Hang in there,” I pleaded. Rowan made no indication he heard me. “Please, stay with me.”
A thin moan escaped his mouth as I hauled him into the back seat. I cringed, guilt stabbing through my gut at the thought that I might have hurt him more. “We’re going to get you help,” I swore, tucking him against the smooth leather as carefully as I could. “You’re going to be okay.” Oh, please, please, please, let him be okay.
I straightened up and nearly blacked out with the pain that blared through my mind. Somehow, I managed to hold on. With lurching steps, I stumbled around the car and fell into the driver’s seat.
The key was still in the ignition. I murmured a ragged prayer under my breath while I turned it.
I’d never heard a more glorious sound than the engine growling to life. I swiped at the blood and tears coating my face, angled myself so I could set my foot from my uninjured side against the gas pedal, and took us into drive.
The car leapt forward. I gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles were pure white, and trained all my attention on the image of the Bend’s hospital in my head. I just had to get there. I just had to get there and let them take care of Rowan, because this was one injury Frank didn’t have a hope in hell of fixing.
