Chapter 38 Lucy
LUCY
Smoke. Do I smell smoke?
I emerged from sleep slowly, nostrils flaring. Now that the indicator light was orange, the protective suit was slowly decreasing the filtration level, along with the supplemental oxygen. And I was sure—very sure—that I smelled something burning.
When I parted my lashes, confusion washed over me.
I expected the room to be dark; it was the middle of the night.
Instead, there was a strange, yellow-tinted haze.
Heat was building in the suit, sweat beading down my back.
I blinked several times, hoping that I was still dreaming.
But no matter how many times I opened and closed my eyes, the haze didn’t clear. In fact, it grew thicker.
Fire.
Something was on fire in the room!
Pulse pounding, I pushed myself upright, now fully awake.
It took me seconds to realize I was trapped.
Flames licked hungrily at the mattress beneath me.
Fear gripped my heart like a vice. I refuse to die this way!
My brain screamed. I didn’t survive those vein-scorching treatments so I could burn to death!
Earlier today, I’d been so excited when the indicator light changed to orange.
I’d praised myself for being stronger than anyone, including myself, realized.
Now, I wondered if my acclimating fast was some kind of cosmic cruel joke, allowing me to fully experience how it smelled to die.
Though, if the suit had been filtering at the red level, would I have woken up in time?
In time for what! My demise!
I squinted, as if that would help me see through the visor. The building flames danced shadows through the thick smoke. Shifting, I crawled forward, only to reel back when the heat got so intense I thought the suit might melt.
“Help!” I shouted. “Is anyone there! Please, help!”
I started coughing after the second help.
Smacking my chest, I tried to clear my lungs, then I frantically waved my arms in the air like I could put the fire out by flailing.
My body was still sore from moving the mattress, but I ignored the ache.
I flapped my stupid hands through the air like small fans for as long as I could.
After giving up the futile effort, I took a shuddering breath.
If not for the supplemental oxygen, I’d be worse off right now. But that wouldn’t save me.
“Help! Somebody, help!” Again, I screamed. “Please!” That please was a prayer.
I wasn’t sure why, but the suffocating haze seemed to thin, letting me see past the inferno creeping ever closer to my body.
Beyond the flames, something shifted. Low to the floor. Wide. Watching.
Eyes narrowing, I pushed past my fear to focus with all my might. It took precious moments to make out the silhouette kneeling on the floor. A person. My breath hitched in horror. This fire… this fire hadn’t started on its own.
Asher. It had to be Asher lurking there, enjoying his handwork. He’d brandished his lighter at me. He’d wanted to see if my suit was fireproof. But… no sane person would do something like this. I had to still be asleep. This had to be a nightmare.
The encroaching, boiling heat begged to differ.
I screamed again, the sound jarring to my own ears. It seemed to echo inside the helmet this time, slamming against my temple repeatedly, making my brain ache.
The suit’s filtering hiccuped, letting in a wave of smoke. I hacked violently, my heartbeat a frantic rhythm in my ears. My panic surged as I pushed my back against the wall, desperately trying to distance myself from the flames.
So hot. So very hot.
“Asher! What are you doing?” I pushed out the questions through coughs, throat growing rawer with each syllable.
I struggled to push myself up. I needed to be further away. I needed to take up less space. After a fight, I managed to stand, body pressed flat against the wall. There was no more room for retreat.
“Asher! Do something! Please do something! Asher!” My voice fractured as I yelled his name. He’d said nothing. He’d made no indication that he even heard me.
“You're a fucking psycho!" I spat, adrenaline sharpening my voice. Anger and terror warred. I had no outlet for my rage. So, fear prevailed as I waited to literally get murdered by an Alpha who was supposed to be my forever.
I closed my eyes, unwilling to watch death come closer.
Weakly, I screamed for help again. I kept shouting, desperation clawing at every part of me. The heat surged closer and my legs grew so hot I wanted to cry. The suit seemed to shrink up, plastering against my sweat-soaked leggings beneath.
“Help… please… help.” My yells had faded to near whispers. The smoke in the helmet bit at my eyes, making them water. My breathing became shallow as my lungs struggled. I couldn’t think; everything was fuzzy.
These Alphas were right. I was pitiful. Weak. Fragile. Worthless.
But I’d be damned if I died in this stupid suit. I was strong enough to leave this world the way I wanted to—as my real self, not a patient.
I reached up, hands shaking, and I yanked off the helmet. Over the crackling, monstrous fire, I couldn’t hear the hiss of the seal breaking. Now the smoke hit me with full force. My eyes burned. My lungs burned. My… my feet were burning!
I looked down, seeing the first flames licking at the front of the suit boots. Fear was a living, breathing thing inside my body now. It was bloating bigger by the second, trying to fill me to bursting. I tried to stand on tiptoe, nearly losing my balance. I really was going to burn to death.
“Help! Somebody… anybody… help!” It was useless to keep shouting. I wasn’t loud enough now; my throat was constricting, and my lungs felt like they were giving out.
The flames leapt higher. Wordlessly, I screamed again. The sound splintered and cracked.
Suddenly, there was a thunderous bang.
“Lucy!” A deep voice filled with violence called my name.
“Help,” I managed weakly.
All I could see were half-realized outlines beyond the fire. One barreling forward, closing in. The other still crouched down. One slamming into the other, knocking him down brutally.
I heard a strange whoosh, followed by a dull roar. Something white began to spray towards me. I raised my hand to cover my mouth, and I closed my eyes again. I kept my lids tightly clamped as the horrible heat began to fade.
I didn’t part my lashes until I was sure I wasn’t dead.
The scent of smoke lingered. My feet still burned. My heart still raced. I could smell, feel, react. So, I must be alive.
When I blinked and peered into the still-hazy room, my gaze collided with Xander’s.
He stood at the edge of the charred, ruined mattress—now covered with extinguishing foam—and he glared at me like I’d done something wrong.
The extinguisher was gripped in his right hand.
He lifted it higher, then lowered it again.
For a split second, I thought he was going to punish me somehow.
Instead, he turned to the left, to where Asher sat on the hardwood floors staring in my direction, looking like a child who’d lost their favorite toy.
I wanted to scream for joy, for relief, but the expression on Asher’s face knotted my stomach.
In seconds, Xander stalked over and halted, large body looming over Asher.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He snarled.
When Asher didn’t move a muscle, Xander lifted the empty canister and slammed it down on his pack brother’s upper back with bone-breaking force.
Asher grunted, pitching forward, shocked from his trance. He pushed himself back to a sitting position and gazed up at Xander in confusion. “That fucking hurt.”
“Burning to death would hurt a fuck ton more,” Xander growled menacingly.
“Well, yeah. Obviously,” Asher’s voice was so flippant, like he hadn’t just attempted murder.
Xander lifted the fire extinguisher again, ready to slam it down. Out of nowhere, Kane appeared. He grabbed Xander’s wrists, stopping the blow.
“Get the fuck off me, Kane!” Xander spat.
“It’s done, Xander. You know this won’t help,” Kane reasoned.
I watched, not understanding. Why would Xander hit Asher for my sake? Why would Kane tell him it wouldn’t help? Why was everyone ignoring the woman who’d almost died?
“Let. Me. The. Fuck. Go.” Xander bit out each word.
“I will,” Kane said slowly, “If you promise not to hit Asher again.”
After a few moments in which the room seemed to hit pause, Xander nodded. “I won’t fucking hit him again.” He dropped the canister; it hit the floor with a sharp clank.
Asher stumbled to his feet then, looking sheepish.
“I did it again, didn’t I?” His voice sounded smaller than I ever thought it could be. Almost innocent.
“Fucking answer that question for yourself.” Xander lifted one muscled arm and pointed at me.
“Shit,” Asher breathed out.
Kane walked behind Asher and grabbed his shoulders, then began guiding him out of the room.
When we were alone, Xander dropped his head, gaze on the floor, and he took a deep breath. Then he turned toward me. There was something new on his face. Something that would have buoyed my hope only yesterday, before shit buckets, inedible food, and this most recent brush with death.
He was still staring at me.
With those eyes framed with dark, thick lashes.
My gaze traveled down to his lips.
Get it fucking together, Lucy! I mentally yelled at myself. Asher just tried to kill you. They’re all sickos.
But why did Xander almost look like he cared?
My brain was still a mess. Lack of oxygen. Smoke inhalation. Nearly dying. This man didn’t give a shit about me. It was just wishful thinking.
Without warning, he crossed the distance between us with six large strides. He reached out a hand, an unreadable look on his face now.
“Lucy,” he said, voice gruff, “you’ll sleep in my room tonight.”
Looking down at his offered hand, I felt wildly conflicted. Obviously, I couldn’t sleep on the ruined mattress. But in his room?
“Lucy, come.”
I moved toward him, the uneven, springy surface hard to navigate. Almost at the edge, I lost my balance, falling forward. Xander’s other hand shot up, and he caught me easily, pulling me off the foam-covered bed and against his body.
Even through the heavy cocktail of smoke and soapy-extinguisher, I could smell him.
His scent was amazing. Black pepper. Amber. Leather. Musk. His Alpha cologne washed over me, sinking into my pores. And my own Omega perfume came to life, stronger than it ever had in all my years of sickness, even stronger than the days following Doctor Swann’s injections.
The notes of our bodies weaved together as he held me close, and something fractured inside of me, creating a space that only Xander could occupy.