Page 79 of Shattered Hate

“Tray, breathe,” Bray urges, grasping my face. “They’ll get him out. Please, Tray, breathe for me.” Another window explodes, sending firefighters scrambling as they shout for everyone toback away. All the firefighters stand close to us and not the trailer. They unleash a torrent of water through the window, but the fire seems insatiable, flames rising higher and higher.

I watch helplessly as the flames grow bigger, angrier. He’s in there. He’s burning alive in that fire as I stand here watching.

Daxton’s face swarms my brain, images of him taunting me, and it’s as if our life flashes through my brain. Every moment we’ve had together.

“Whatever you want it to mean.”

“You hurt me the most, Tray.”

“Little did he know, I already knew just how amazing you were.”

“Because I wanted to be kissing you,”

“I loved you first.”

“No one could ever be you. It was always you, deep down.”

“The first guy who broke my heart

“And you were the first boy I ever loved.”

“Then you have been in love, Tray. Love always hurts. Believe me, I know.”

I never knew what heartbreak felt like until this moment.

Even when it doesn’t mean to, love can really hurt. I can’t lose him.

I glance at the firefighters and then at the door that none of them are near. I then shift my focus to Bray and Kal, their faces a mirror of fear and helplessness. “I can’t lose him again when I’ve just got him back,” I say. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, barely audible above the shouting. Determination steels my heart as I barge one firefighter out the way and sprint toward the trailer. Behind me, cries erupt, my name mingling with the sounds of terror and urgency. I yank off my sweater as I run, wrapping it around my hand as a makeshift shield, and pull open the scorching metal door. A wave of heat and sharp smoke bursts out, pushing me back a few steps. But I can’t stop. I press my sweater over mymouth, blocking the choking fumes, and step into the searing heat.

The interior of the trailer is a suffocating blaze, alive with the crackling dance of orange flames and the swirling clouds of thick, black smoke. My eyes sting and immediately water from all the smoke as I peer through the dense haze, desperately searching for him. “Daxton?” I call out, my voice hoarse and muffled by the fabric of my sweater pressed against my mouth. A faint whimper reaches my ears, barely audible over the roaring chaos of the fire. I stumble toward the sound, tripping over furniture scattered across the floor. “Daxton,” I call out again. The acrid smoke is choking me as I push my sweater more firmly against my face. In the dim, flickering light at the back corner of the trailer, I spot a slumped figure—Daxton, tied to a chair, his head rolled forward, unmoving. My heart races, pounding in my chest as I lunge toward him. One side of his jumper is burned, his raw, blistered skin showing. The blistering heat behind me sears at my skin. I move myself behind him, and I frantically work to untie the rope, my fingers clumsy and fumbling with urgency. The heat surrounding us gets hotter, and it feels like I’m burning my lungs with each breath I take in. “I’ve got you,” I rasp, pulling him into my arms. One of my arms erupts in pain, but all I can think about or focus on is getting Daxton out of here alive. Dax coughs violently, his small body trembling as he buries his face against my chest. The smoke thickens, a suffocating curtain that blinds and chokes us. A loud crack echoes above, and I look up just in time to see a section of the ceiling crumbling from the flames that are spreading. Pain explodes through me as it hits mine and Daxton’s arm. I scream out in pain, my body slowly closing down on me as the pain begins to blanket the adrenaline. Daxton goes floppy in my arms, and the spike of adrenaline surges through me again, so I push forward two steps, but my legs falter as someone suddenlyblocks the doorway and pulls Daxton from my grip. My legs buckle, and I feel myself being caught as I gasp for air, struggling to draw in more than short, desperate breaths. Agony racks my body, but my eyes frantically scan the chaos for Daxton. “Dax.” Hardly any sound comes out. “Dax.” Tears blur my vision as everything around me grows distant. A mask is thrust over my face, but I claw at it, disoriented and frantic to find him. “Dax.” I hear my name, a frantic cry from somewhere, but everything becomes foggy and indistinct. My chest tightens, constricting with fear and smoke, as someone presses the mask firmly over my face. My surroundings blur into a haze. “Dax,” I murmur through the mask.

“I need—” A man leans over me, his voice calm but urgent.

“I need you to stop talking for me. Just focus on taking deep breaths.”

“Tell him,” I croak amid the chaos.

“You can tell him yourself soon. Keep this mask on for me, Trayton, and continue to take deep breaths.” My body shudders violently, each jolt sending a shockwave of agony through my chest as my lungs scream for mercy.

Why is it so hard to breathe?

I turn my head to the left, and that’s when I see Daxton. His body lies limp, completely still, his eyes closed as if in a deep, unreachable sleep. People huddle over him, their faces a blur of concern and urgency. Why are their hands on his chest?

“Daxtonnnn.” I try to scream his name, but it comes out as a strangled cry, tears cascading down my cheeks. I shove the man’s hand away from the mask, ripping it from my face in desperation, trying to sit up, but the searing pain is unbearable.

“Dax.” I choke on my sob with a mixture of terror and sorrow as more people crowd around and block my view of him.

“Keep that on him,” someone commands, and another man firmly replaces the mask over my face. My world blurs again, theedges of my vision swimming as my heart races wildly. I hear my name faintly being screamed by Brayden, I think, but I don’t care about anyone else right now. It’s only him. It’s only ever been him.

What will I do if he doesn’t make it?

Panic sets in like a vice grip, squeezing my chest as a woman speaks to me, her words lost in the noise, leaving me deaf to anything but the roaring in my ears. It’s become impossible to draw in air, every breath a futile struggle.

I can’t get anything in.

And then the lights begin to fade, darkness creeping in from the edges, slowly closing around me like a blanket. My final thought before the darkness consumes me completely is a haunting whisper: What if I never get to tell Daxton that I love him?

Chapter forty

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