Page 61 of Run Omega Run
My hand paused halfway through turning the page as the smell intensified, no longer something I could dismiss as imagination or a neighbor's fireplace. This was closer, more immediate, carrying undertones that spoke of things that shouldn't be burning, like fabric, and wood, the chemical bite ofmaterials consumed by flames that had no business existing in our home.
Angus must have caught it too, because he stiffened with an alert tension I'd learned to recognize as a precursor to protective action. His eyes met mine over the children's heads, a silent communication that confirmed my growing alarm.
Before either of us could process the implications fully, a scream pierced through the house's evening quiet. Susie's voice, high and terrified, cut through the comfortable domesticity like a blade. The sound came from downstairs, followed immediately by the sharp crack of a door slamming with violent force.
The children froze, their faces turning toward me with the kind of wide-eyed trust that made my chest constrict with mothering instincts I didn't know I possessed. Loubie Lou's grip tightened on her bunny, while Tomas pulled his blanket closer around his shoulders like armor against whatever had frightened their older sister.
"Stay here," I commanded, my voice carrying an authority that surprised me with its steadiness. "All of you, stay right here in this room. Don't move until we come back for you."
I pushed myself to my feet, my heart hammering against my ribs as the smoke smell grew stronger, more insistent. Behind me, Angus rose with fluid grace despite his size, his presence both reassuring and terrifying in its implications. If he was worried enough to follow me, then the situation was worse than I'd initially feared.
The hallway outside the children's room had begun to fill with thin wisps of gray that made my eyes water and my throat constrict. The smoke was thicker near the staircase, billowing upward in clouds that danced on the airwaves.
I started toward the stairs, but disorientation hit me like a physical blow. The familiar layout of our home became foreignin the haze. My breathing quickened, pulling more smoke into my lungs with each panicked gasp.
The first step down felt solid under my foot, but the smoke had thickened to the point where I could barely see my own hands. I reached for the banister with blind fingers, trying to guide myself through visibility that had become almost nonexistent.
My foot found empty air where the next step should have been, and the world tilted sickeningly as I pitched forward, my balance completely lost in the gray void that had swallowed our staircase. I tried to catch myself, hands scrambling for purchase on surfaces that seemed to dissolve the moment I touched them.
The impact came with shocking violence. My head striking the wooden banister with a crack that seemed to echo through my skull. Pain exploded behind my eyes in colors I didn't have names for, and the already-dim world fractured into spinning fragments that made no sense.
I hit the floor at the bottom of the stairs with bruising force; my body curled awkwardly against the wall where momentum had deposited me. Through the ringing in my ears and the waves of nausea that threatened to drag me under completely, I could hear something that made my blood freeze in my veins.
The crackle and roar of flames eating through the walls of our home, growing stronger with each passing second.
Through the fog of pain and smoke that had invaded my skull, I heard voices cutting through the roar of flames. The words seemed to reach me from a great distance, distorted by the ringing in my ears and the way consciousness kept sliding away from me like water through cupped hands.
Heavy boots pounded across the floor above my head, followed by the sound of our front door exploding inward with violent force. But these weren't the boots of intruders, no, these carried the rhythm of rescue, of people who knew exactly whatthey were doing and had no intention of letting anything stop them.
"Get the children!" Bennett's voice cut through the chaos like a blade, sharp with commanding authority that brooked no argument. "Upstairs, now!"
His peppermint scent sliced through the smoke-thickened air, clean and precise even in the midst of catastrophe. I tried to call out, to let him know where I was, but my throat closed around smoke, and the words emerged as nothing more than a weak cough that sent new waves of pain through my battered skull.
Cole's toffee scent followed close behind, carrying undertones of something clinical. "Heather!" he called, his voice pitched to carry through the growing roar of flames. "Where are you?"
I tried to push myself upright, but the world tilted and nausea rolled through me in sickening waves. The floor felt unstable beneath my palms, as if the foundations of our home were shifting under the assault of fire.
Above me, Bennett's voice continued its rapid-fire commands, organizing an evacuation with military precision. "Two at a time," he ordered, and I could hear the strain in his breathing as he lifted multiple children simultaneously. "Arms around my neck, hold tight, don't let go no matter what."
Through the haze of smoke and disorientation, I caught glimpses of movement; Bennett's silhouette moving with mechanical efficiency as he carried children past where I lay crumpled. His movements never faltered, never hesitated, each trip up and down the stairs executed with the kind of professional competence that made following orders feel like salvation rather than surrender.
Cole appeared beside the staircase, his face grim but calm as he guided Denson and Dylan toward the door. His hands weregentle but firm on their shoulders, steering them through smoke that would have been bewildering to navigate alone. "Keep your heads down," he instructed, his voice carrying the kind of quiet authority that made panic seem less likely. "Follow my voice, stay close, we're almost out."
The older children accepted his guidance, their faces pale but determined as they followed instructions that might mean the difference between safety and catastrophe. Cole's clinical competence transformed chaos into a manageable procedure, his very presence suggesting that survival was not just possible but inevitable if they trusted him to lead them through the maze of smoke and flame.
Heavy footsteps thundered down the stairs with a different rhythm. They were heavier, more urgent. Angus's massive form appeared through the smoke with a protective fury that made him seem larger than his already considerable frame.
"There ye are, lass," he growled, his Scottish accent thick with relief and rage in equal measure. His chocolate scent had shifted to something darker, more primal. "What've they done to ye?"
His hands were surprisingly gentle as they slid beneath my shoulders and knees, lifting me from the floor. The movement sent fresh pain shooting through my skull, but being cradled against his broad chest felt like the first safe thing I'd experienced since awakening at the bottom of our burning staircase.
"The children," I mumbled against his shirt, my voice weak but growing stronger as consciousness began to reassert itself more fully. "Are they safe? Did everyone get out?"
"Aye, love," he murmured, carrying me toward the door with steps that were both quick and steady. "Bennett and Cole are wit' them."
The night air hit my face, cool and clean after the smoke-fouled atmosphere of our burning home. My vision began to clear as Angus carried me across the yard, away from the heat and destruction, toward a growing cluster of small figures arranged on the grass like a collection of refugees from some unimaginable disaster.
The children huddled together in their pajamas, their faces streaked with soot and tears but alive, breathing, safe. Bennett moved among them with continued efficiency, doing quick visual assessments for injuries while Cole maintained calm order through quiet words and steady presence that anchored panic before it could take hold.
