Page 168 of Down Knot Out
A crash from inside the house draws our attention, and my heart lurches. Each sound measures the passing seconds that Holden remains inside.
Dominic steps away to help Blake connect the hose to the spigot near the garden, and they work to wet the ground and trees around the Homestead, putting out sparks. We’re lucky it’s not a windy night.
Closing my eyes, I ignore the dancing red light painted across my eyelids as I focus on my pack bonds. If Holden were hurt, I would know, right?
“What’s that?” Quinn asks, and my eyes snap open to see her pointing at the front of the house.
I squint through the smoke, heart leaping as a dark shape emerges from the front door. Holden staggers onto the porch, a large, black shape cradled in his arms.
Sprinkles.
“There!” I cry. “He’s got him!”
Holden stumbles down the steps, face streaked with soot, hair singed at the edges. He stumbles halfway across the yard before his legs give out,and he falls to his knees, still clutching the motionless dog.
Blake rushes to him, Dominic close behind. They help him to his feet, supporting his weight as they half-carry him toward us. Sprinkles hangs limp in his arms, and fear grips my heart anew.
“Get away from the house,” Holden croaks as they reach us. “Kitchen’s going to blow. Gas leak… Line was broken. Smelled it before I hit the hall.”
Nathaniel grabs my elbow, pulling me backward. “We need to get back! Now!”
I stumble along, watching over my shoulder as Blake takes Sprinkles from Holden’s arms. The dog’s chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.
“He’s alive,” Blake confirms. “But we need to get him oxygen.”
Relief floods through me, and my knees weaken.
Quinn wriggles in my arms, trying to see Sprinkles for herself. “He’s okay?”
“He will be,” I promise, though my heart still races with fear.
Just as we reach the edge of the path, a sharpcracksounds, and the kitchen windows blow out in a burst of fire and pressure.
The blast knocks me off my feet. I twist, turningmy body to shield Quinn as we crash to the grass. Glass rains down, embers scattering.
It’s not a full propane tank rupture, rather a blowout from a concentrated leak, but it’s enough to make the others drop and cover.
The fire flares again, racing up the kitchen walls, smoke billowing high. But the walls don’t fall. The structure groans, then holds.
I scramble to my feet, shaking, soaking, and heart pounding as I clutch Quinn.
“We need to make sure the fire doesn’t spread,” Dominic shouts to Blake.
They scramble for their hoses and fire extinguishers to put out the thrown embers, while in the distance, the whump of a helicopter sounds, growing closer with each second, and floodlights sweep over the water.
“Help’s coming!” Relieved, Grady shuffles farther down the path as he waves toward the beams of light.
As I take a shaky step to follow him, the air shifts behind me, and a hand clamps over my mouth, filling my nose with the sharp stink of gasoline.
As an arm locks around my waist, I try to scream, but the sound comes out muffled. Quinnshrieks, but the roar of fire and the helicopter drown out her cry as we’re dragged into the dark.
Chapter Forty-Five
Chloe
Branches whip across my face as Simon drags me deeper into the woods. His hand crushes my lips, fingers digging into my cheeks. The stench of gasoline and smoke clings to his clothes, the toxic cloud surrounding us.
In my arms, Quinn’s scream pierces the night.
