Page 61 of Falling for the Firefighter
The boy's small body trembles against mine, and I cover his head with my arms, feeling the mountain's fury crash down around us. Rock dust fills the air, choking our lights and turning everything into a gray, suffocating fog.
When the dust settles, Scout’s already on her feet, nose working to assess our situation while keeping herself between us and any remaining danger.
I lift my head cautiously. My headlamp cuts through the dust, revealing devastation. The passage ahead is blocked—not completely, but enough. A wall of fallen stone separates Danny and me from Mac and the rest of the group.
"Danny." I check him frantically, hands running over his small arms and legs. "Are you hurt?"
"I don't think so." His voice shakes, but he's alert. Responsive. "Ms. Jo, where did everyone go?"
The wall of debris stretches from floor to ceiling, massive chunks of granite and limestone wedged together like puzzle pieces. Through the gaps, the dim glow of headlamps is visible on the other side, and muffled voices call out.
"Mac!" I press my face to the largest gap, tasting rock dust and fear. "Mac, can you hear me?"
"Josephine!" His voice comes through clearly, blessed relief flooding through me. "Status report."
"Danny and I are okay. The passage is completely blocked from this side." I examine the collapse with growing dread.These aren't loose rocks that shifted. This is structural failure—tons of stone that won't be moved without heavy equipment.
"Can you clear it?"
I run my hands along the debris, testing stability. A smaller rock shifts under pressure, triggering a small avalanche that makes Danny yelp and press closer to my side. Any attempt to clear this blockage could cause the ceiling to collapse further.
"Negative. Too unstable."
Silence stretches between us, filled with the terrible mathematics of our situation. Mac has civilians to evacuate and a clear route back to the entrance. I have one small boy and a blocked passage, deep in a mountain that's actively trying to kill us.
"Alternative route?" Mac's voice stays steady, but I hear the strain underneath.
I close my eyes, visualizing my father's map. The maintenance tunnel I mentioned earlier connects to this section somewhere ahead. However, I’ve never walked it, nor have I verified its stability or condition. It was marked as an emergency route, one my father mapped but cautioned against using except in desperate circumstances.
This qualifies as desperate.
"There's an emergency route that bypasses this section." I keep my voice calm for Danny's sake, though my heart hammers against my ribs. "I can't guarantee its condition, but it should connect to the surface near the old equipment shed."
"How far?"
I calculate distance and elevation, factoring in Danny's small legs and our limited supplies. "Maybe forty minutes if we're lucky. Longer if we run into problems."
"Take it." Mac's decision comes without hesitation. "We'll continue back the way we came, retrace our route to the entrance."
Relief and terror war in my chest. Relief that Mac has an escape route. Terror that I'm about to lead a seven-year-old boy through unknown passages based on a map drawn years before he was born.
"Understood." I pull out my father's map, the paper crackling in the sudden quiet. "We'll rendezvous at the equipment shed."
"Josephine." Mac's voice softens, carrying all the weight of what he can't say through a wall of stone. "You know these mountains better than anyone. Trust your instincts."
The sound of my full name stops my breath. Not Jo, not Mackenzie—Josephine. The name he whispers against my skin when he's buried deep inside me, when control fractures and tenderness bleeds through his dominance. He's the only one who says it like that, like it means something sacred.
To hear it now, separated by tons of stone with death pressing close, feels like the most intimate thing he's ever given me. A promise wrapped in syllables. A claim that reaches through rock and fear to anchor me.
"Yes, sir." The words slip out before I can stop them, automatic and reverent. "Take care of them."
Even separated by stone and crisis, the dynamic between us pulses like a living thing. His sharp intake of breath echoes through the gap, and I know he feels it too—that electric current that runs beneath everything else, the way I yield to his authority even when he can't touch me.
"Take care of yourself." His voice roughens, dropping to that register that makes my spine liquid. Even through stone and static, I feel the promise threaded beneath his words—the unspokenbecause you're mine, and I'm not done with you yet."That's an order, Josephine."
I fold the map carefully, tucking it into my jacket pocket. When I turn around, Danny is watching me with eyes too serious for his age.
"Are we lost?" he asks quietly.
