Fire in the Catacombs

Smoke woke me before the heat did.

It slid into the chamber in thin gray ribbons at first, then thicker, carrying the sharp smell of burning oil and scorched stone. I pushed myself up on my bound hands, heart already racing. Drake was on his feet in an instant, head turned toward the sealed doors.

“They lit the mountain,” he said, voice low and rough. “We have to move.”

The chains still linked my wrists. He broke them with one hard twist of his hands, the iron snapping like dry wood. I rubbed the raw skin as he pulled me toward the back of the sanctuary. Heat was already rising through the floor.

“There are older tunnels,” he said. “The curse kept me from using them before. It may not hold the same way now.”

We slipped through a narrow crack behind the altar that I would never have noticed on my own. The passage beyond was low and tight, walls pressing close on both sides. Drake went first, his broad shoulders nearly scraping the stone. I followed, one hand on the rough wall, the other clutching the back of his shirt so I would not lose him in the dark.

The heat grew worse the deeper we went. Smoke followed us, stinging my eyes and throat. Somewhere above, rock cracked and groaned. Fine dust rained down on our heads.

“Faster,” Drake said.

I tried. My legs still felt weak from the blood loss and the earlier terror. Every breath burned. The tunnel opened into a wider catacomb lined with old bones and collapsed pillars. The air here was hotter still. Orange light flickered through cracks in the ceiling.

A heavy boom shook the entire mountain. Stones fell just behind us. Drake grabbed me around the waist and yanked me forward as a section of the roof came down where I had been standing. We stumbled into a larger chamber, both of us coughing.

“You all right?” he asked.

I nodded, even though my lungs felt full of ash. “They’re trying to cook us alive.”

“Yes.” His eyes glowed faintly in the dark. “Ethan will not risk me reaching the packs. Burning the mountain is cleaner than facing me.”

Another crash sounded closer this time. Debris rained down. Drake pulled me against his chest and curled his body over mine as larger rocks slammed into the ground around us. The heat of him was almost as intense as the fire above, but it was solid and real. I pressed my face into his shoulder and waited for the shaking to stop.

When it did, he eased back just enough to look at me. Ash streaked his scars. For a moment neither of us spoke. The mate pull hummed under my skin, stronger now that we were this close, and I hated how much I wanted to lean into it.

“We keep moving,” he said quietly. “There is a way out on the far side if the tunnels still hold.”

We ran again. The catacombs twisted and split. Twice we had to backtrack when the path ahead was blocked by fallen stone. The heat became almost unbearable. Sweat ran into my eyes. My injured arm throbbed with every step.

Drake never left my side. When a beam collapsed in front of us he shoved me clear and took the impact across his own back. When the smoke grew too thick he pulled his shirt up over my nose and mouth so I could breathe. Every time the mountain shook he put himself between me and the danger without hesitation.

I started to understand something I had not wanted to admit: he was not simply protecting a mate bond. He was choosing me, over and over, in the middle of a fire meant to erase us both.

We reached a long corridor that slanted upward. Fresh air teased us from somewhere ahead. Hope flared hard in my chest.

Then the ceiling directly above us gave a long, terrible groan.

Drake’s head snapped up. “Run”

The world came down.

Stone and dust exploded around us. Something heavy struck my shoulder and spun me sideways. I hit the ground hard, ears ringing. When the worst of the collapse settled I pushed myself up, coughing, and called his name.

No answer.

The corridor was blocked by a wall of broken rock. I was on one side. Drake was on the other.

“Drake!”

I heard him shout my name, muffled and distant, followed by the sound of him tearing at the debris. Before I could answer, torchlight flared at the far end of my section of the tunnel.

Hailman Hurk stepped into view, silver blade already drawn, a cold smile cutting across his scarred face.

“Well,” he said. “Look what the fire failed to kill.”