Page 33 of Fire Bear

The canister was closed, so no spillage occurred, but Ash’s adrenaline spiked at how close the man had come to starting another fire. The suspect writhed, spitting out dirt, face twisted in rage.

He reached for a small blade attached to his belt. Ash saw the glint of steel and swiped his paw to knock it from the man’s hand. The blade spun away, disappearing into the half-burned undergrowth.

Trapped, the suspect clenched his fists, shouting insults at the massive bear. Ash responded with a deep growl. The man’s bravado crumbled. He tried to scramble backward, but Ash’s sheer weight kept him pinned. In the distance, sirens echoed, and Ash recognized the faint whir of a second helicopter. Backup had arrived.

A group of uniformed figures emerged through the haze. Detective Parker was at the forefront, protective gear covering his face. Some officers held sidearms, scanning the area. Ash rumbled to signal that these men were subdued.

Parker raised an arm to wave to his colleagues. They began to fan out, likely searching for more suspects. Parker stepped carefully around half-burned logs, eyes flicking from the canister to the pinned man.

Parker gave Ash a tight nod. The detective’s voice was muffled behind his respirator. “We got the other one,” he said, then called to his men. “Secure the second suspect. Read him his rights.”

Chapter

Twenty-Three

Eliana stoodin her living room. She found it unsettling how calm the farmhouse felt after the chaos of the last few days. Each time she glanced through the window, she expected to see orchard workers bustling or a tractor rumbling along the rows, but nothing stirred. No employees carried crates of apples. No hum of orchard life drifted in from the yard. It was as if time had paused, leaving the orchard in a silent limbo that weighed heavily on her heart.

She had tried to busy herself by reviewing shipping invoices. The orchard staff were on leave until further notice. Eliana felt a squeeze of guilt each time she remembered sending them home. She understood that they needed jobs, yet she could not put them in danger.

She paced the length of the living room. Her boots tapped lightly on the warn wood floor. The quiet seemed to ring in her ears, and her thoughts refused to settle. She looked at her phone more times than she could count.

She hadn’t heard from Ash since the forest fire started. He was probably deep in the thick of it, fighting flames and risking hislife to protect Fate Mountain. The knowledge that he was out there, possibly facing danger, knotted her stomach. Eliana took a seat on the couch, only to pop back up seconds later. She could not sit still, no matter how hard she tried.

Her phone rang, the shrill sound ripping through the silence. Her heart pounded as she reached for the device, a half-formed hope blooming inside her that maybe it was Ash with good news. It was Mateo’s mother’s number. She pressed the phone to her ear and answered.

Mateo had been found and had been rushed to the hospital. His mother asked her if she wanted to come pray for her son at the hospital. Eliana assured her that she’d be right there. The call ended, and she looked around her living room as if in a daze.

She slipped her phone into her pocket, then grabbed her keys from the hook by the door. She locked the farmhouse behind her and hurried to her car, an older model truck that had been handed down from her grandparents. The drive to Fate Mountain General Hospital was a blur of half-remembered turns and fleeting glimpses of pine-lined roads.

She prayed quietly for Mateo’s recovery and for Ash’s safety, wishing she could wave a magic wand and end all the nightmares at once. When she arrived at the hospital, she parked and got out. The building rose before her, all clean lines of glass and concrete.

She stepped inside to the smell of antiseptic and the automatic doors hissing behind her. The bright fluorescent lights made her squint as she approached the reception desk. Eliana gave Mateo’s name, voice trembling a little. The receptionist tapped on a computer, found his room number, and told Eliana that he was on the third floor, west wing.

Eliana mumbled thanks and hurried to the elevator, ignoring the tightness in her chest. The elevator doors opened to reveal a nurse pushing a wheelchair, which made Eliana step aside. She pressed the button for the third floor as soon as she got in, trying to quell the anxious swirl in her stomach.

When the elevator chimed and opened, she marched into the hallway. At the nurse’s station, she repeated Mateo’s name. The nurse directed her down the corridor. The waiting area along the side was lined with plastic chairs, some occupied by people dozing or staring at phones.

Eliana spotted Mateo’s mother, a woman with hair pulled back, face etched with worry. She was perched on one of the chairs, shoulders slumped. Her presence here made the situation more real. Eliana’s throat constricted as she approached. They exchanged a brief, tense hug, one that said more about shared fear and relief than words could.

“Thank you for coming,” she said, squeezing Eliana’s hand.

Eliana could only nod, tears stinging her eyes. A doctor emerged through the double doors. The mother stepped closer, eager for news. The doctor explained that Mateo had burns and abrasions on his arms and hands, presumably from the fires or from whatever ordeal the criminals forced upon him. He also had a badly sprained ankle and signs of smoke inhalation. “But there’s no reason he won’t make a full recovery.”

The mother’s knees nearly buckled in relief. Eliana placed a hand on the woman’s back to keep her steady. The doctor allowed them to sit with Mateo, in his room, until he woke up from his medication. A machine beeped quietly to one side. Mateo lay still, his arms and head swathed in bandages. The bruises across his face and neck made her heart clench

She stood by his bedside while Mateo’s mother hovered on the other side, tears in her eyes. Eliana felt fresh waves of regret. She remembered how Mateo used to arrive at the orchard gate every morning, excited to learn about heirloom apples and new grafting techniques. He was young and hungry for knowledge.

She pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to break down. She needed to stay strong for Mateo’s mother, for Ash, for everyone who depended on her. The monitors beeped, and Eliana prayed for Mateo’s quick recovery.

Time ticked on, and the corridor outside Mateo’s room grew dimmer as late afternoon set in. His mother dozed in a chair, worn out from fear and relief. A nurse came in to check the monitors, but otherwise it was a silent vigil.

Footsteps sounded outside the corridor. Eliana looked up just as the door to Mateo’s room opened. Ash stood there, hair damp and face scrubbed clean. She stared, drinking in the sight of him, overwhelmed by a surge of gratitude that he was okay.

Eliana rushed to him, fighting the urge to burst into tears. She felt her chest tighten with emotion as she closed the distance between them. She threw her arms around him and whispered that she was glad he was safe.

“We found them,” he said, holding her tight. “No one is going to threaten you or your orchard again.”

They fell silent, each wrapped in their own thoughts, until a soft rustling came from Mateo’s bed. Eliana heard his mother exclaim under her breath. Ash and Eliana turned to see Mateo shifting slightly, his eyelids fluttering open. His mother stood, reaching for his hand.

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