38. Grayson
38
GRAYSON
I watch as the ambulance speeds away, its sirens blaring and flashing lights cutting through the night like a blade. My lips are flattened into a grim line at the thought of Riley inside, unconscious. She better be okay! Royce is with her, and he said he’d keep me updated—which is the only reason I’m still standing here.
Another ambulance follows, taking Aurora and Logan. I can’t help the knot of worry tightening in my chest. It’s been squeezing tighter since I first spotted those flames in the distance. Arriving to find the house engulfed in flames was like waking up in a living nightmare. Then, seeing Aurora and Riley like that—Aurora scared out of her mind and Riley so fragile… It broke something inside me.
Turning my back on the ambulances, I stare up at the blacked-out carcass of what was my childhood home. The flames have mostly been subdued, and the firefighters are methodically working to put out the last stubborn pockets of fire. The smell of smoke hangs heavy in the air, acrid and suffocating. I stare at the wreckage of what was once a house, now reduced to charred remains.
The only reason I’m still here is to hear if there is any word on my father. Not because I care, but because I want to make sure the bastard is truly dead. I need to see it with my own eyes.
After what feels like hours of waiting, the fire chief finally approaches me. His face is grim, eyes shadowed with the weight of what he has to say. “The cause was a gas stove left on,” he explains. “The fire spread quickly, probably started in the kitchen. If there’s any consolation, it was an accident.”
An accident? I nearly snort aloud. This was no accident.
There’s no stopping the curl of my lips as it dawns on me, and I turn away, pretending I’ve got a bit of ash in my eye. Riley. My smart, fierce Tempest. I bet it was her. She must have turned it on when my father was distracted, creating an opportunity for them to escape—even if it meant risking everything. I mentally praise her for being strong and clever, even in the face of danger.
When I turn toward the fire chief again, my face is impassive as I listen to him explain how the fire spread, what his men are doing to combat it, and the likely outcome. I have no interest in saving anything, so I don’t give two shits if the entire building is razed.
“Any signs of anyone else in the house?” I ask him.
“Nothing yet,” he says grimly. “But we’ll keep clearing rooms.”
Time drags on as I continue to wait, watching the firefighters move through the wreckage, their shouts and orders filling the air. Then, suddenly, there’s a commotion. Voices rise, and the controlled chaos escalates as a group gathers near the front door.
My heart pounds in my chest, a mix of dread and anticipation swelling inside me. I take a few steps closer, trying to see through the haze of smoke and steam rising from the scorched earth.
Then I see it—a body being lifted out. He's burnt, his skin charred and blistered, but there's movement. He's alive. Barely. EMTs rush over from a standby ambulance, scurrying around him, working quickly to stabilize him. Their efficiency is clinical and detached, and I watch as they check his vitals, administer oxygen, and prepare him for transport. He's unconscious, a mere husk of the man I despise, but he's still breathing.
Before they can lift him onto the stretcher, I step forward, catching their attention. “Where are you taking him?” My voice is sharper than I intend, the words laced with the remnants of my anger.
One of the EMTs glances up at me, her expression professional but unyielding. “Springview Medical.”
A cold knot of dread settles in my stomach. The same hospital where Riley and Aurora were taken. The idea of them being under the same roof again—of my father being anywhere near her—fills me with a deep, simmering hatred. “Take him somewhere else,” I demand, my tone edged with desperation. “Anywhere else.”
The EMT shakes her head, already turning back to Bertram. “We can't. Protocol dictates that we take patients to the nearest hospital.”
I stand there, fists clenched, as they lift him onto the stretcher and load him into the ambulance. The doors slam shut with a finality that echoes through the night, and I’m left standing in the middle of the charred remains of the house, helpless as they drive away.
I stalk over to Logan’s car while I dial Royce to fill him in on Bertram’s determination to not fucking die. I no longer need to be here. If my father is under the same roof as Riley and Aurora, then you can bet your ass I’m going to be right there with them the entire time!