Chapter 22 Levi
TWENTY-TWO
Levi
The gunshot cracked through the night. I didn’t think—I sprinted. Full tilt toward the warehouse. Novak was right behind me, boots hitting pavement in perfect rhythm with mine, and we reached the room I’d seen Novak kill in as the world blew apart.
A blast punched outward, a burst of heat and flame roaring through the open doorway of the room. The force slammed into us, knocking me back a step, searing my face, stealing my breath.
Through the gap in the fire, I saw him.
“Alejandro—!” I screamed, reaching for him, reaching for anything.
He turned, eyes wild, face streaked with soot. “NO!” he shouted back, voice shredding. And he shoved the door closed—on himself.
I froze. Then I lunged, grabbing the handle. The door didn’t budge. Warped. Heat-bloated. Smoke poured through every crack, thick and black.
“No—no—NO!” I roared, slamming my shoulder into it. My shoulder gave way, so much fucking pain, and my lungs burned. None of it mattered. “ALEJANDRO!”
Novak grabbed me around the chest, dragging me back.
I didn’t even feel the ground under me as I thrashed, fought, and clawed at his arms. I didn’t care that nothing made sense.
Didn’t care that I couldn’t breathe. All I knew was that Alejandro was burning alive behind that door, and I couldn’t get to him. I screamed—raw, wordless.
Jamie appeared out of nowhere, lighter already in his hand, eyes bright with something manic. Before I understood what he planned, he flicked it—setting the wall beside the door alight.
“What the hell are you doing—STOP!” I lunged, but Novak held me like iron.
Rio slammed into my field of vision and grabbed my face with both hands. “Controlled burn!” he yelled, shaking me hard enough to rattle my skull. “We bring the wall down!”
Behind him, flames climbed higher. The wood groaned.
Cracked. And then—miraculously—the wall gave way.
Collapsed inward in a storm of embers and ash.
Heat slammed us again. Flames licked out in wild tongues.
Jamie didn’t hesitate—of course, he didn’t.
He grinned, unhinged and fearless, and dove straight through the fire as I broke free of Novak’s grip, stumbling after Jamie.
A beam had fallen across the room, pinning someone.
Pinning Alejandro. His jacket was on fire—skin blistering.
Jamie levered the beam with a metal pipe, screaming through clenched teeth. I grabbed Alejandro under the arms and dragged with everything I had.
Seconds shredded apart—nothing but fire and noise and chaos.
The room bucked under the heat, metal screamed, something exploded in the corner, and smoke tore at my throat so violently I couldn’t tell if the sound I heard was my coughing or the building collapsing.
My eyes streamed, my vision warping with heat ripples.
Every breath felt like swallowing knives.
And then we were out—Jamie hauling one shoulder, me grabbing the other, pulling Alejandro’s limp, burned body into open air.
He collapsed into me, dead weight.
Novak was already shouting into a phone. Someone—multiple people—ran toward us from a black van, equipment in their hands. Oxygen masks. Med kits. Gloves.
They crowded, reaching for him.
“No,” I snarled, clutching him tighter, holding his face in my hands. “Don’t take him—don’t—”
“Levi,” someone said—Rio, maybe. Or Novak. I couldn’t hear. “Let them work. He’s alive.”
Alive.
Barely.
I was dragged with him into the van, still holding him, refusing to let go as masks were pressed to his face and hands moved over Alejandro’s body.
I didn’t care who touched me. Who shoved past me. Who yelled orders over me.
I wasn’t letting this man go.
Not again.
Not ever.