Page 82 of Risky Passion

I stood, my thoughts racing. Whitney’s car was here. Was he inside?

Or had someone taken him?

Onyx let out a sharp bark, and I jolted my gaze to her. Her nose was pointed toward the building, her body rigid and trembling with tension.

“Whitney!” I called, my voice cutting through the crackle of the flames.

Tory grabbed my arm, trying to yank me back. “Jaxson, shh!”

“I have to find him,” I snapped, harsher than I meant to.

“I know,” she said. “Let’s just be smart?—”

Onyx barked again, and she surged against the lead, nose to the ground.

“Onyx, find Whitney,” I commanded, pointing toward the orphanage.

Gripping her leash, I chased Onyx up the crumbling steps, and Tory fell into step beside me. The air was suffocatingly thick with heat and smoke, and each breath burned in my lungs.

Onyx veered down a narrow corridor, her nose glued to the ground, leading us straight toward the inferno. My grip tightened on her lead as the roaring flames grew louder, hotter.

The fire was spreading fast, orange tongues licking greedily at the papered walls. Overhead, the roof groaned and sagged, threatening to collapse at any moment. Beneath my bare feet, ash and glowing embers bit at my skin, making each step a gamble against the flames.

“Tory, careful,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.

The fear in her eyes twisted something deep inside me, shredding what little sanity I had left. She shouldn’t be here.

Every instinct screamed at me to turn back. To run. To get the hell out.

But I couldn’t. Not without my brother.

“Whitney!” I yelled, but my voice was barely audible over the crackling flames. I scanned through the smoke, searching every shadow and flickering light. “Where the hell are you?”

Onyx froze, her head snapping up. A deep, guttural growl rumbled in her throat and her body set rigid. Her sharp gaze locked on an open doorway just ahead.

Something moved, just beyond the reach of the firelight.

I yanked my gun free, leveling it at the figure.

“Don’t move!” I barked.

A weak hand rose from the shadows. “’Bout time you got here.”

“Whitney!” Relief and fear hit me like a stray bullet. Holstering my gun, I charged forward and dropped to my knees beside him. “Jesus, what the hell happened?”

He was sprawled on the ground, his chest heaving as he fought for air. Soot streaked his face, blood oozed from a gash above his eyebrow, and his arms were raw and blistered from burns.

“I saved . . . I saved . . .” His voice was broken, barely more than a whisper.

“Who?” I leaned closer, my heart pounding. “Who did you save?”

He shook his head as his trembling hand pointed behind him. “The files . . . as many as I could . . .”

Smoke curled around stacks of jumbled boxes, piled against the wall.

My stomach twisted. “Christ!” I jumped to my feet.

He could’ve fuckingdiedfor those boxes.

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