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No. No, he wouldn’t do this.
I burst through the door and fall to the frozen ground the second I witness the flames licking the sky in angry throws of orange, red, and yellow.
The sticky note falls from my hand.
:) Burn
39
Wynn
Sirens ring through the streets.
Lanston hands me a cup of coffee as we head outside, blankets wrapped around our shoulders, to see what the hell is burning down at four thirty in the morning.
A bright warm glow lights the sky toward the south end of town.
Lanston sits on the hood of his car and sips his drink. “Think it’s the cornfield? Kind of late in the season for a brush fire though.”
I shrug. “Maybe someone set it intentionally.”
My cup stops before it reaches my lips as one name comes to mind.
Our eyes meet and Lanston pales as we mutter at the same time:
“Crosby.”
The entire town is awake and watching with horrified faces as we race down Main Street. The fire is much too far away to be the cornfield. My heart pumps erratically inside my chest and my throat feels dry.
Lanston hasn’t uttered a word since we got in the car. Fear tantalizes the air around us.
Please don’t be Harlow… please.
I repeat the thought over and over until we’re speeding down the long stretch of road leading to the institute.
My heart drops to my lap as we break the forest line and see firetrucks lined up, spraying water relentlessly at Harlow Sanctum. The entire building is lashing with angry flames, reaching higher into the sky than I’ve ever seen fire climb. A guttural, animalistic cry leaves my lips.
Lanston slams on the brakes and stares at the inferno like he’s been shot in the chest. His eyes are wide and his jaw shakes uncontrollably.
My body acts of its own volition. I throw the door open and sprint toward the burning building. The heat is unbearable, even from twenty feet away. Firefighters’ heads turn as I run past them, some dropping their hoses and chasing after me in their full gear.
“Stop!” one calls out.
But I can’t stop.
Nothing can stop me from reaching Liam.
One moment I’m charging straight for the front doors. The next, I’m on the ground, staring up at Lanston’s anguished face.
He tackled me.
It takes a few seconds for my wits to return to me before I struggle against him and fight with every ounce of strength I have.
His grip tightens and he doesn’t let up.
I scream furiously at him, “Liam’s inside! What are you doing? Lanston, you’re killing him! Let me go! Let me go! LET. ME. GO.”
I thrash something feral in his strong arms until the energy of the adrenaline pulses out of me and tears berate my eyes. The initial shock becomes a sense of loss I’ve never experienced before, a crushing, hopeless weight that burrows into your very soul.
