Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
C ool autumn wind rustled through the trees as Meara reviewed her retreat schedule, tapping her pen against the kitchen counter. She needed to restock some of the supplies in the house before the next class. Plus, she needed to take inventory to make sure she had enough canvas to stretch over new frames.
Her gaze drifted to the window where she saw the old barn-turned-warehouse at the edge of her property, its weathered silhouette dark against the purple-tinged sky.
“No better time than the present.” She ran her fingers through her hair, grimacing at the paint dried in the strands. The extra canvases and easels stored in the barn couldn’t wait until morning—she needed them ready for tomorrow’s session.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Artek: Security team finished perimeter check. All clear. Miss you.
Heat bloomed in her chest as she typed back: Miss you too. Dinner at your mom’s tonight feels forever away.
His response came quickly: I can come over now...
Meara smiled, remembering how he’d kissed her good-bye that morning, his hands sliding under her shirt, making her almost late for a supplier meeting. If you come over, I’ll never get any work done. You’re too distracting.
That’s the point. Be there in a few.
Behave yourself. I need to grab supplies from the barn first. See you soon
Grabbing her phone’s flashlight, Meara headed outside. Dried leaves crunched beneath her feet, the sound sharp in the evening quiet. The temperature had dropped, and she wished she’d grabbed a jacket.
The barn’s metal handle felt like ice against her palm. The door groaned open, hinges protesting from disuse. She fumbled for the light switch, and a single bulb sputtered to life overhead, casting sickly yellow light through the musty space. Dust motes danced in the weak beam.
Old crates and covered furniture created a maze of shadows. Some of Betsy’s paintings leaned against the far corner, carefully wrapped in protective cloth. The sight made Meara’s throat tight. She could almost hear her grandmother’s voice: “Art is meant to be seen, sweetie. Don’t hide your light in a barn.”
“I’m not hiding,” Meara whispered. “I’m building something new. Just like you wanted.”
She picked her way through the clutter, searching for the art supplies. A scratching sound from outside made her freeze. Probably just a branch against the wall. Still, her heart thumped faster.
The slam of the barn door sent her spinning around. Metal scraped against metal—the sound of the exterior latch dropping into place.
“Hello?” Her voice cracked. No answer except the whisper of wind through the walls.
She rushed to the door, yanking the handle. It didn’t budge. “Hey! Someone’s in here!” She slammed her palm against the wood, panic rising in her throat.
Smoke curled through the cracks around the door frame. The acrid smell hit her nose as orange light flickered beneath. Her pulse roared in her ears.
“No, no, no...” She pounded harder, coughing as smoke seeped in. “Help! Somebody help!”
Flames licked up the wooden walls, hungry and fast. Heat pressed against her skin as she stumbled back, eyes stinging. She fumbled for her phone with trembling fingers—no signal. The smoke thickened, choking her lungs.
Think. Think. What had she learned in that fire safety course? Smoke rises. She dropped to her hands and knees, crawling toward the far corner where the smoke seemed thinnest. Pressing her face close to the floor, she tried to take shallow breaths through her sleeve.
But terror still clouded her mind as the fire spread, trapping her in a closing circle of flames. The heat grew unbearable, even at ground level. Dark spots danced at the edges of her vision, and her chest burned with each breath.
A tremendous crash shook the door. Another boom, and splinters flew as the wood began to crack. Through watering eyes, she saw a massive shape slam against the frame repeatedly.
The door exploded inward. Artek stood silhouetted against the inferno, his features twisted with rage and fear. He’d partially shifted—thick dark fur rippled across his arms and chest, claws extending from his fingers. His eyes blazed gold in the firelight.
“Meara!” He lunged forward, scooping her into his arms. She buried her face against his chest as he charged through the doorway. Even through her terror, she felt the raw power in his muscles, the way he curled his body around her protectively.
The cool night air hit her smoke-heated skin. Her lungs burned with every breath, but she couldn’t stop coughing.
“I’ve got you,” he growled, his voice deeper than usual, roughened by his partial shift. He set her down gently several yards from the barn, hands roaming over her arms and face, checking for injuries. “Are you hurt? Talk to me, sweetheart.”
She shook her head, still coughing too hard to speak. His palm cupped her cheek, thumb stroking soothingly. The tender gesture contrasted sharply with the fury radiating from him.
“Easy,” he murmured. “Just breathe. I’m here.”
Trey’s voice carried across the yard. “Firefighters are three minutes out!”
Meara turned to see Trey and several security team members attacking the flames with fire extinguishers. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance—police and fire trucks approaching. She leaned heavily against Artek, trembling as the adrenaline began to fade.
His arms tightened around her. “I shouldn’t have left you alone. If I’d been a minute later...”
“Don’t.” She pressed closer, breathing in his familiar pine-and-rain scent. “You got to me in time.”
Paramedics insisted on treating her immediately, fitting an oxygen mask over her face while they checked her vitals. The lead EMT, Sammie, shined a light in her eyes and listened to her lungs.
“You did the right thing getting low to the ground,” Sammie said, adjusting the oxygen flow. “But you’ve still got significant smoke inhalation. We should transport you to the hospital for observation.”