Page 52 of Redemption
Then the call drops.
And then that’s when I smell it. Faint, but familiar.
I will never forget that smell. The way it wraps around me and chokes what little hope I have left. That smellhauntsme, and my intuition is screaming so loudly it hurts.
Smoke.
I race to the front door—twisting the knob and cursing. It jerks once and stops. Like it’s being blocked from the outside. I spin around and sprint for the back door too. My heart stutters. The second I round the corner, heat slams into me.
Vibrant flames curl up the back windows and lick along the door frame. The back porch must be gone, causing the flames to climb higher and faster. “Ana, get Brinley!”
The bathroom door slams open as I run for one of the living room windows. I tug at the frame, but it doesn’t even budge. Then I move to the next one. And the next one. I push and pull at every single window in the house. None of them open,allof them are sealed shut.
A sob breaks from the back of my throat as I slap the glass window in the kitchen. Panic surges to the surface and takes over. I throw my hands over my head and whip around to where Ana keeps Brinley tucked into her chest, T-shirt covering my daughter’s mouth.
Our eyes meet for a moment–an understanding settles between us. This isbad.
My chest begins to pick up, panic settling deep in my bones. My limbs ache to reach for Brinley, to shield her–
Brinley.Brinley.
My eyes drop for a fraction of a second and I spot the barstool. I don’t think twice. “Step back!” I shout, waving Ana backwards. She listens as I grab the stool from beneath the island and haul it over my shoulder.
All of the strength—all of the anger and fear I can muster goes into my swing. I reel back and slam the metal bottom into the glass.
Once.
Twice.
CRACK.
The window finally spider webs and I toss the stool somewhere to the side before rushing to the living room and pulling out a throw blanket. Brinley’s startled cries and Ana’s heavy breaths are deafening. Laying the blanket over the sharp shards, I shove the broken pieces aside with my bare hand. A small part of my brain registers the flash of blood in my vision.
It’s stupid—but I don’t care. Can’t dwell on what I should have done. I’ll feel the pain and regret later. It doesn’t even matter if I stay here and burn or bleed to death—what matters is savingher.
Ana hesitates when I turn to her, but I take Brinley from her hands and jerk my head towards our only exit, “Out. Now.”
Once she’s through, I pass Brinley through the window and into her awaiting arms. She doesn’t bolt like I want her too—she waits and stares with Brinley tucked into her chest. Like she’s waiting for me to follow.
But I can’t. Not yet. “Go! Get her away from the house.”
“But-”
“Ana.” I shout, voice raw, “Now!”
Benji whines behind me, tailed tucked. I rush back into the main room, spotting Ivy from where she hides behind the couch. “Come on, you little shit,” I whisper, coaxing her out and into my arms. She’s quickly shoved through the open window. I just hope she has enough sense to take off.
“Come on, Buddy,” I breathe to Benji, bending down. But the dog falls into a defensive position. He begins barking wildly. His tail and head whips, his body refusing to stay still long enough for me to grab him. “Benji,please.”
Maybe it’s the desperation in my voice. Or maybe it’s the smoke that’s thickening the air and making it harder to breathe, but he finally lets me scoop him into my arms. His nails dig into my bare arm, but I don’t care. I hoist him to the window and shove him through, thankful it’s not a big drop to the ground.
A small shock of relief tugs at my heart as my foot comes up to haul myself over next—because everyone is safe.
But then I feel hands on my waist. And my world spins.
I fall backwards.
Into the heat.
