Chapter 1 #2
But I felt my heart stutter when he looked at me.
Those pale eyes swept over my face with focus. He catalogued every scratch, every smudge of soot, every tear track with an intensity that made my breath catch, and his jaw went tight.
“She’s hurt.” Two words. Low, controlled, directed at the man carrying me.
“Smoke inhalation. Possible drugging. She’s lucid. Some minor burns.” The freckled one adjusted his grip on me, pulling me closer. “Let’s go.”
We burst through the broken back door into the night and the cold air hit my lungs hard enough to make me cough. Behind us, the bookshop creaked, the roof beginning to sag.
Everything I owned was in there.
Every book I’d hand-picked. The reading nook I’d built with garage sale cushions. My favorite mug. The photo of my mother I kept behind the register because it was the only one I had.
The freckled firefighter carried me around the building to the street where an engine was parked at an angle, lights spinning red and blue across the buildings. He set me down on the bumper, carefully, one hand lingering on my back to make sure I was steady.
I wasn’t. My whole body was trembling, which was annoying because I was trying very hard to project “woman who has her life together” and absolutely failing at it.
He crouched in front of me. “Mira.”
There it was again. My name, certain with familiarity.
“How many fingers?”
He held up three. I stared at them.
“You still haven’t told me how you know my name.”
“Three. The answer is three.”
“You’re deflecting.”
A ghost of a grin. “Yeah, well. You’re stubborn.”
“You don’t know me.”
The grin faltered for a second. A flash of grief crossed his face before he buried it under that easy warmth again, and my stomach turned because that grief was real.
The kind of grief you only felt for people you actually cared about losing, and this man had known me for approximately ninety seconds.
“Percy.” The voice came from behind him.
A third man stepped around the engine, pulling off his gloves. Black hair fell across his forehead, longer on top, pushed back as he’d run his fingers through it a hundred times. Storm-gray eyes with flecks of gold found me and his entire body went still.
This guy was leaner than the other two but wound tight, every line of him coiled with a tension that radiated outward. His jaw was set, permanent scowl in place, angular face built for brooding and not much else.
He wore the same turnout gear as the others. The name on his jacket read VALDRIS. His scent reached me before he did, pine and frost, winter mornings, that first December breath that stings your lungs and wakes you up.
My body pulled toward him. A tilt from somewhere in my chest that I had absolutely zero control over, and that was terrifying because I was a woman who survived by controlling everything. Every reaction, every expression, every instinct.
Two years with Hudson taught me that letting my body make decisions got me hurt.
But this bypassed all of it.
His gaze locked onto my face and the scowl changed. For one second the mask disappeared, and underneath it was a rawness so visceral my chest ached just looking at it. Want, grief, and recognition tangled together in those gray-gold eyes. Then the scowl slammed back down and sealed it all away.
But I saw it.
He turned to the one named Percy with a command. “Status.”
“Smoke inhalation, possible sedation. She’s alert but her pupils are off.” Percy kept his eyes on me. “She’s asking questions.”
“She can hear you,” I said. “She’s right here.”
His gaze snapped back to me and held. The muscle in his jaw jumped, once, and for a moment I thought he was going to say my name too. Instead, he turned away and spoke into his radio, his voice clipped and controlled.
“Lucian here. Building’s gone. Pull the line back. We need perimeter containment only.”
I filed the name. Lucian. The one who carried himself with an authority which surpasses firefighting. He’s surely the kind of man who expected the world to fall in line around him.
“Her pupils are uneven,” the scarred one said from my left, and I startled because I hadn’t heard him approach. He was just there, suddenly, close enough to touch, as silent as a shadow in full gear. He’d removed his gloves and his bare hand came up to my face.
My whole body went rigid.
Men reaching for my face was a trigger. A whole category of trigger that usually ended with me backing into walls and shutting down. It reminded me of awful things.
Hudson’s backhand. His grip on my jaw. The way Hudson’s fingers dig into my cheeks to force me to look at him.
I flinched.
The man in front of me stopped. His hand hovering an inch from my skin, waiting. Those colorless eyes read my face with patience and he didn’t move or push my boundaries.
He just held his hand there, open and still, letting me decide.
So I didn’t pull away.
His fingers cupped my jaw, cool against my overheated skin, barely touching. My pulse didn’t spike in fear and my body didn’t lock up.
Instead, my chest expanded with a feeling I couldn’t name.
Recognition. Bone-deep, irrational, terrifying recognition. My body knew him before my brain caught up, the way you walked into a house you’d never visited and knew where every room was.
I knew his name.
The way I had known the scent of brown sugar and autumn leaves or the candlelight against sharp angles, surfacing from a place I couldn’t access or explain.
“Solomon,” I said.
His thumb stilled against my cheekbone. A fracture ran through all that composure, devastating, there and gone. His breath caught, an inhale I felt against my skin, and for one unguarded second his fingers pressed harder against my jaw with desperation.
“You don’t remember,” he said.
“Remember what?”
He didn’t answer. His hand dropped from my jaw with reluctance, his fingers curling at his side. Behind him, Lucian took a step closer, his hand twitching into a fist, jaw clenched with the effort of staying where he was.
None of them were looking at the burning bookshop anymore or watching the street.
They were all looking at me.
“We have to bring you to the hospital,” Lucian said. His voice was low, carrying the same unplaceable accent from my memory. The one attached to golden eyes and a thumb brushing my cheek. “Now.”
I was about to protest and be stubborn but my consciousness was slowly drifting.
The next thing I knew was the antiseptic smell, fluorescent lights, and the constant beeping of machines that made you feel sicker just being near them.
They brought me to the hospital.
It happened so fast. Now, I sat on a thin mattress in a curtained-off area.
Suddenly, the curtain rattled and a doctor stepped through.
“Ms. Maxwell. You’re lucky.” He clicked his pen and scribbled something. “Smoke inhalation is mild, some minor burns on your arms. We found an unknown compound in your bloodwork. Do you remember taking anything before the fire?”
“Just tea. Chamomile. From my own kitchen.”
“The compound is working its way out of your system. We’d like to keep you for observation.” He glanced toward the curtain. “Do you have someone to stay with tonight?”
Through the gap in the fabric, I could see them. The three firefighters from the rescue, still in the hallway, watching. The golden one paced while the pale one stood motionless against the wall and the dark-haired one stared through the gap as if he could see straight through me.
“Friends of yours?” the doctor asked.
“I don’t know them.”
“They seem to think otherwise.” He turned back to me, pen hovering. “Family? A partner we can call?”
“No. There’s no one,” I said to the doctor. “I’ll stay at the inn.”
The nurse who’d been hovering nearby glanced toward the hallway. “Those are the Ashvale firefighters,” she said. “The whole town’s half in love with them. They’re good men.”
Good men, huh?
I’d heard the gossip, of course. Hard not to in a town this size. The mysterious firefighters who’d shown up a year ago and became local heroes overnight. Women at the grocery store whispering about the broody captain, the intimidating quiet one, the charming one with the boyish smile.
Safe, everyone said. Dependable.
And then there is another thing. A pull in my chest I couldn’t explain.
Every time the dark-haired one looked at me, my heart did something stupid. Every time the golden one smiled, deep inside, I wanted to smile back. And the quiet one with the scar, his presence felt solid, safe in a way that I’d forgotten existed.
Honestly, aside from the fire, it was what terrified me.
But at the same time, it was also the first thing that hadn’t felt wrong in two years.
The silence stretched. Percy’s whole body sagged. Solomon’s jaw went tight. And Lucian, that scowl deepened, but he nodded once, accepting my decision without argument.
It was what got to me. He didn’t argue or try to convince me. No guilt trips, no manipulative bullshit Hudson would have deployed in the same situation. He just nodded and stepped back.
“At least let us drive you and give us your contact,” Percy said. “It’s the middle of the night. You shouldn’t be walking alone.”
I looked at them. Three strangers who hadn’t left my side since pulling me from the flames. Who knew my name without being told and watched me with expressions I couldn’t decode but didn’t fear.
“Fine.” The word came out softer than I expected. “Just to the inn.”
***
The Starlight Inn was exactly as depressing as it sounded. Faded sign, peeling paint, the kind of place that rented by the night and didn’t ask questions.
Percy handled the clerk while I stood there in borrowed scrubs, soot still in my hair, trying not to look as destroyed as I felt. Lucian flanked my left side. Solomon stood slightly behind, watching the entrance with an alertness that said he was looking for someone.
“Room 7,” Percy said, handing me the key. “End of the hall.”
The hallway was narrow and dim. The walls pressed closer with every step, and somewhere between the stairwell and my door, Hudson’s face filled my vision.
His smile through the window, the wave he gave me. Hudson’s words haunted me.
‘Found you.’
My chest seized as my lungs locked up, refusing to expand. I stumbled, one hand shooting out to brace against the wall while my heartbeat slammed against my ribs.
Arms caught me before I hit the ground.
Percy. Suddenly I was pressed against his chest, his hands gripping my elbows, steadying me. He was warm. So warm it seeped through the thin hospital scrubs and into my frozen skin. His scent wrapped around me and my body did something treacherous. It relaxed into him, just for a second.
“Hey, I’m here,” he murmured against my hair. “We’re here for you.”
“Mira.” Lucian was in front of me now. I didn’t see him move. One second he was behind us, the next he was crouching at my level.
“Look at me.” His voice dropped low, cutting through the static. “Just at me. Breathe with me. In.”
He inhaled, slow, deliberate. I tried to match it. My first attempt barely filled half my lungs.
“Again. In.”
Closer this time.
“Out.”
My chest unclenched despite everything.
“Good girl.”
Two words. That was all. Heat flooded my cheeks so fast I was grateful for the soot covering my face. My stomach fluttered, warm and completely inappropriate given the circumstances.
My body heard “good girl” in that voice and decided we were done panicking.
“I’m fine.” I shoved upright, fumbling the key into the lock. “I don’t need help.”
“You nearly died.” Solomon’s voice came from behind me, flat, stating fact. “You’re allowed to not be fine.”
“I’m still fine.”
The door opened. I stepped inside without looking back.
A hand caught the door before it closed.
Solomon. He didn’t push his way in, just stood in the doorway, shrugging off his jacket. Without a word, he held it out to me, waiting, letting me decide. The jacket was still warm from his body. It smelled of steel and winter air, and underneath that, a thing I couldn’t name.
He was giving me his jacket plainly, waiting for nothing in return.
I didn’t know what to do with that.
“Thank you.” The words came out barely above a whisper, dragged from somewhere I kept locked. I wasn’t used to saying them or meaning them.
Solomon’s eyes met mine for a brief moment. There was a shift there, gone too fast to name. Then he stepped back, and I closed the door.
I turned the lock before pressing my forehead against the wood until my breathing steadied.
The room was small. Clean, forgettable. Exactly the kind of place I’d been looking for six months ago when I ran. Somewhere no one would think to look.
A place where I could disappear.
So much for that plan.
I crawled onto the bed, still wearing Solomon’s jacket, and let the weight settle over me.
The shop, my apartment above it. The vintage cash register that stuck on seven, a reading nook I’d built on my own.
Life I’d barely scraped together, brick by brick, book by book.
Hudson burned it to ash in one night.
I pulled the jacket tighter, buried my nose in the collar. Steel and winter air. Underneath that, pine and frost from where Lucian had crouched too close. And the faint, brown sugar and autumn leaves, still clinging to my skin from where Percy had caught me.
Three strangers and three scents.
Three men who looked at me as if I mattered.
I didn’t trust it, couldn’t afford to. The last man who looked at me that way put me in a hospital twice before I finally ran.
But as sleep dragged me under, it wasn’t Hudson’s face I saw.
A memory filled my thoughts again.
String lights swaying in the dark. Storm-gray eyes finding mine across a crowded square. A broad hand steadying my waist as music swelled. Silver eyes watching from the edge, patient and intent. Hazel bright with mischief, spinning me until laughter spilled from my throat, wild and unguarded.
Four people tangled together in the glow.
The images felt real. The warmth in my chest, the echo of that laughter, the way my body remembered the weight of those hands.
I wanted to stay there. In that warmth, that inexplicably, irrationally, infuriatingly safe feeling.
A version of my life where I wasn’t running from anything.
Surely tomorrow I will be back to ashes. So for tonight, just once, I was keeping this.