Fire and Blood

Sera POV

The first thing I notice is the strong smell. It’s smoke. Thick and acrid, slowly spreading under my bedroom door at 3 a.m. I suddenly wake up, with my heartbeat already fast and my brain still catching up. The house, apart from a single low crackling noise that chills my blood to ice, is too quiet.  

Fire.

I slide off my bed, and my bare feet connect with the cold floor. The doorknob is warm, not hot enough to burn, but not cool enough to be untouched. Warm enough to say the fire is very close.

“Kaelen!” I yell, swinging the door open.

Smoke surges into my room like it’s alive. The hallway is nothing but a grey haze, yet I can still see the orange lights dancing downstairs. The fire is advancing up the stairs, devouring the old wood like it’s been starving.

Kaelen's door crashes open. He’s up and assessing, alert and bare-chested. His eyes find mine through the smoke, and something unidentifiable passes, no anger, no blame. Just survival.

"Stairs are blocked," he says, voice raspy from the smoke. "Windows?"

I look toward my bedroom window. Two stories up, nothing but concrete below. "We'll break our necks."

"Better than burning alive."

The smoke is getting thicker. My eyes won't stop watering, and my throat feels like it’s on fire. Every time I try to draw a quiet breath, it's as if I've shoved shards of glass down my windpipe. I'm barely absorbing the pain when Kaelen’s hand encloses mine, yanking me gently toward his room.

“There’s an access panel. To the roof. In my closet,” he says.

His room is less chaotic; the smoke hasn’t settled as heavily here. He's already dragging a chair toward his closet, pushing up ceiling tiles. Cool night air rushes down.

"You first," he says.

"I'm not leaving you."

"Sera, don't be stupid."

"I'm not being stupid. I'm not leaving."

For a moment we stare at each other through the haze. His jaw is set, stubborn, but there's something else in his eyes. Something that looks almost like fear, but not for himself.

"Together then," he says.

He boosts me up first, his hands on my waist, lifting me like I weigh nothing. I scramble through the opening onto the roof, then reach back down for him. The tiles are slick with dew, treacherous under my bare feet.

Below us, the house is fully engulfed. Flames are licking at the windows, casting everything in hellish orange light. The heat is intense even up here, making the air shimmer.

"The fire department…" I start to say.

"Won't get here in time," Kaelen finishes. He's scanning the neighboring rooftops, calculating distances. "The Murphy house. If we can make that jump."

I look where he's pointing. The gap between buildings is maybe eight feet. Doable, if you're an athlete. Deadly, if you're not.

"I can't make that," I say.

"Yes, you can."

"Kaelen, I…"

"You can." His voice is fierce, certain. "I've seen you move during patrol. You're stronger than you think."

The roof under our feet is getting hot. Smoke is pouring through the access panel now. We don't have much time.

"I'll go first," he says. "Catch you on the other side."

"What if you miss?"

"I won't."

He backs up, gets a running start, and leaps. For a heart-stopping moment he's suspended in space, silhouetted against the flames. Then he lands hard on the Murphy's roof, rolling with the impact.

"Your turn!" he shouts.

I look down at the alley below. Two stories of nothing but concrete and death. My legs are shaking.

"Sera, you have to move. Now."

The roof is burning through under my feet. I can feel the heat through the soles of my feet, getting more intense by the second.

I back up. Take a deep breath of smoky air. And run.

The leap is like a bird’s and a climber’s fall combined at once. The chasm below me is much larger than I had anticipated from the other side. My arms flap like a fledgling's, attempting to find equilibrium.

There is a solid grip encircling my waist just as I brush the edge of Murphy's roof. Kaelen’s arms secure me, tucking me to his chest as we both collapse backwards together onto the comforting tiles.

We remain still for a moment, trying to normalize our breathing, with his arms still enveloping me. I sense his heart pounding against my back, trying to keep pace with my own frantic beat.

“You did it,” he murmurs close to my ear.

I pivot in his embrace, and almost instantly, we’re in close contact, his eyes drawing me in a mere few inches away. Those eyes shimmer fiercely in the firelight like a molten gold. There’s ash on his cheek; his hair is untidy. He just looks stunning.

“Sera,” he utters, each syllable of my name uttered like a sacred chant.

I don't know who moves first. Maybe both of us. His mouth finds mine like he's been starving for it, and I kiss him back with six years of anger and hurt and desperate, buried longing. His hands tangle in my hair, and I can taste smoke and something that's purely him.

When we break apart, we're both shaking.

"I thought I was going to lose you," he whispers.

The words hit me like a physical blow. "You never had me."

"I did." His forehead presses against mine. "Six years ago, I had you. And I threw it away because I was a coward."

Below us, the Neutral House collapses in on itself with a roar of timber and flame. The sound breaks the spell between us. I pull away, suddenly aware that we're half-dressed on someone else's roof in the middle of the night.

"This doesn't change anything," I say.

His face closes off. The moment of vulnerability disappears behind his familiar mask. "Of course not."

But it does change something. I can feel it in the space between us, electric and dangerous.

The fire department arrives twenty minutes later. Police cars. An ambulance. Elder Morrison shows up with a clipboard and that same cold smile.

"Terrible accident," he says, surveying the smoking ruins. "Gas leak, most likely. These old houses are so unreliable."

"Accident?" I'm wrapped in a paramedic's blanket, but I'm still shaking with more than cold. "That was no accident."

"What are you suggesting, Miss Rowe?"

"I'm suggesting someone tried to kill us."

Morrison makes a note on his clipboard. "The investigation will determine the cause. In the meantime, you'll need alternative housing to complete your Protocol period."

"Where?"

"The Ardyn estate has a guest wing. Very secure. Very... supervised."

The trap closes around us again. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, literally.

Kaelen steps forward. "I'll arrange other accommodations."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. The Protocol specifies controlled housing. The estate is the only approved alternative."

Of course it is.

An hour later, we're driving through the wrought-iron gates of the Ardyn family compound. The main house looms ahead like something out of a gothic novel, all dark stone and pointed towers. Security lights track our movement as we pull into the circular drive.

"I'm sorry," Kaelen says quietly as we get out of the car. "I know this is the last place you want to be."

He's right. This house represents everything I hate about his family, their power, their control. But what choice do I have?

Inside, the house is all marble and mahogany, expensive and cold. A woman in uniform shows us to the guest wing. Two bedrooms connected by a sitting area. Elegant prison cells.

"Dinner is at seven," she says. "The family expects you to join them."

When she leaves, Kaelen and I are alone again. The kiss on the roof hangs between us like smoke, impossible to ignore.

"About what happened—" I start.

"It was adrenaline," he says quickly. "Fear reaction. People do crazy things when they think they're about to die."

"Right. Crazy things."

But his eyes tell a different story. And the way he's standing, like he's fighting the urge to reach for me again, suggests that maybe it wasn't just fear after all.

There's a soft knock on the door. A security guard enters without waiting for permission.

"Mr. Ardyn? Your father wants to see you both in his study. Now."

The guard's hand rests on his weapon. This isn't a request.

As we walk through the halls toward Marcus Ardyn Sr.'s study, I can't shake the feeling that escaping the fire was just jumping from one trap into another. And this time, there's nowhere left to run.

The study doors loom ahead, heavy oak carved with wolf heads that seem to watch our approach. Behind those doors waits the man who owns this town, who owns the hospital where my father lies dying, who owns the Protocol that's binding us together.

Who might have just tried to burn us alive.

Kaelen's hand brushes against mine as we walk. Just for a second. But in that brief contact, I feel something I haven't felt in six years. Hope. And that might be the most dangerous thing of all.