Chapter Three.2

EMBER

Not a roll this time, but an explosive crack that shook the apartment hard enough to rattle the lights and punch the breath clean out of her lungs. The floor jolted. Something above them groaned, wood complaining in a language too old to argue with. Ghost moved instantly. He shifted his stance, turning his body without thinking and placing her fully against his chest, one arm braced over her shoulders and the other tight at her waist, shielding her, grounding her, angling himself between her and the ceiling like he could personally negotiate with gravity.

Ember felt it then, not the fear but the safety.

The way his heart beat steady against her back. The way his weight anchored her like nothing could knock them over as long as he stood there. The way his presence filled every hollow space the storm kept trying to claw into. Her breath hitched.

She hated that too.

Outside, the storm howled. Inside, held tight against him, Ember felt something give, not the building, not yet, but the sharp edge of panic she’d been clinging to. For one suspended second, nothing mattered except the sound of his breathing and the undeniable truth settling deep in her bones: If the ceiling came down, he would take it with her. And then something cracked, too loud, too close... wrong. It wasn’t a sharp sound,it was deep, a tearing, grinding groan that vibrated through Ghost’s chest and into her bones, like the building itself had finally decided it was done pretending. Dust sifted down first, then came the impact. A violent boom thundered through the doorway as the hallway outside Ghost’s apartment gave way. The floor jolted hard enough to knock Ember off balance, her fingers clutching reflexively at his shirt as something heavy slammed down just beyond the threshold. Ghost grunted—not in pain, just effort and tightened instinctively, bracing them both as debris crashed against the outside of the door. Wood splintered. Metal screamed. The sound echoed too loud, too close, too final. Ember squeezed her eyes shut. For one heartbeat, all she could hear was the roar of her blood and the storm screaming approval outside.

Then came silence.

Not the absence of noise, exactly. The wrong kind of quiet. Like the building was holding its breath. Ghost didn’t let go. He stayed locked around her, solid and immovable, head bowed slightly over hers as dust settled across his shoulders and into her hair. His heart beat steady against her back—slow, deliberate, unpanicked. Ember swallowed, “…Ghost?” Her voice came out smaller than she liked. “I’m here,” he said immediately. She opened her eyes. The front door was still standing, but it was no longer a door in any meaningful sense. The frame had bowed inward under the weight of collapsed ceiling and tangled beams. Drywall and insulation pressed tight against the outer edge, packed in like the building had shoved its fist there and refused to pull back. The door itself didn’t move when Ghost tested the handle—whatever had come down in the hallway had wedged the frame solid. Nothing was getting through, not light and definitely not help any time soon. She stared at it. Then she exhaled slowly, carefully, like the knowledge might explode if she let it out too fast. “We’re… stuck,” she said.

Ghost followed her gaze, took it in, assessed it without panic, “Yes.”

Her shoulders tensed. “How stuck?”

He paused, just long enough to measure honesty. “Enough,” he said. “But not unsafe.”

She huffed a brittle laugh. “You and I have very different definitions of unsafe.”

“I know,” he said quietly. “That’s why I’m telling you mine.”

Another distant rumble rolled through the building, lower now, farther away. The worst of the collapse had passed. Ghost loosened his hold just enough to let her breathe, but he didn’t step back. Didn’t move away. His hand stayed firm at her waist, grounding and real. Ember leaned back into him without meaning to. She froze the second she realized. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t comment. Her wolf pressed against her ribs, tail wagging slow and traitorous. She clenched her jaw. “This is temporary,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “Yes,” Ghost agreed. His thumb flexed once at her side, barely a movement, barely a touch. “We’ll wait it out.” The words settled heavy between them while the storm raged on outside.

Inside, Ember stood held against a man built like a shelter, heat coiling low and inevitable in her gut, the reality of nowhere else to go finally sinking its teeth in.

And she hated—absolutely hated—how safe she felt right there.

Her phone buzzed.

Once.

Twice.

Then again, rapid-fire, vibrating against her palm like it was just as unsettled as she was. Ember glanced down, thumb hovering before she even realized she’d reached for it.

TENANT GROUP CHAT:

Patel (Super):

HALLWAY CEILING COLLAPSED ON 4TH FLOOR.

DO NOT ATTEMPT TO EXIT YOUR UNITS.

I REPEAT—DO NOT OPEN DOORS.

The words landed heavy.

Final.

Her stomach dipped.

3F: oh my god

5A: is anyone hurt???

2D (Luca): ember??? ghost??? u alive???

Ghost leaned just enough to read over her shoulder, his presence a solid line at her back even as the room felt suddenly too large, too dark. Then he pulled out his own phone and typed one-handed, calm and economical, like he was filing a report instead of reassuring half the building. He typed one-handed, calm and economical, like he was filing a report instead of reassuring half the building.

Ghost: We’re good. Door blocked. Staying put.

The reply sent a strange, unwanted warmth through her chest.

A beat passed.

Patel:

GOOD. STAY PUT.

ENGINEERS ETA UNKNOWN UNTIL STORM DIES DOWN.

POWER MAY GO NEXT. BE PREPARED.

Ember barely had time to register that last line before the lights flickered.

Once.

Twice.

Then the overhead fixtures blinked out entirely, plunging the apartment into darkness so complete it felt physical. No soft glow from the kitchen. No ambient city bleed from outside. Even the baseboard emergency strips sputtered once and died. Ember sucked in a sharp breath before she could stop it. Ghost reacted instantly, tightening around her with no hesitation, one arm firm at her waist and the other braced protectively across her upper back as if the dark itself were something that might strike. “It’s okay,” he said immediately, voice low and steady in her ear. “I’ve got you.”

She hated how much that helped.