43. Chapter 43
Chapter forty-three
Hunter
D amn this fucking woman.
I want to strangle her. Even as I call out to her to stop, she refuses to listen, running barefoot through ash and broken bits of building.
At least she's easy to spot in the darkness, the red sequins on her dress reflecting the little amount of light in here.
Taking off after her, I catch up quickly, nearly colliding into her back as she pauses in the hallway, head turning rapidly.
"This way," she breathes, and I'm not entirely sure it was said to me as she charges off toward classrooms.
I hate that I know the layout of this place. Dad had blueprints in his office of the existing structure as well as the reconstruction plans. I studied them meticulously, learning everything I could about this academy in case I ever needed the information. Perks of being dragged into this mess, I suppose.
I just didn't think I would need it for this.
Spencer stumbles a few times, trying to lift the long hem of her dress which gets caught on numerous things. Her feet must be in Hell, but if she's stupid enough to run through here barefoot then that's on her. I'm not saying she should have kept her heels on, but I guess we didn't really have time to change into appropriate attire.
Sounds of banging keep echoing further away, and as much as I hate to admit it, she's right. There's obviously someone here and we need to find out who.
Judging by the way the noises keep moving ahead, they know that we're here too. I just hope that they are fleeing and not leading us on a wild goose chase. Maybe our presence has scared them, and they will abandon their efforts to commit arson. But the stubborn woman running next to me won't accept that—she wants to hunt them down.
My cell buzzes in my pocket but there's no time to answer. It's likely Rylan and Tai, responding to Spencer's text messages and trying to find out what the fuck is going on.
I have no idea what they see in her. She's insufferable and a pain in the ass. But for whatever reason, they seem to like her now—or her cunt at least. I still don't agree with it, but I have no choice but to honor our Wolf Pack.
Hopefully they know what they are doing. We're risking a lot by teaming up with her, and it's even more painstaking when I seem to have drawn the short end of the stick tonight.
Spencer bursts through the doors to the Cedar Heights auditorium. They bounce off the wall with a loud bang and I cringe. There's nothing fucking subtle about her. We should be approaching these people like predators—slowly, in silence. But no. She's charging around like a bull in a room full of red. Ironic really given what she's wearing.
Finally, she pauses, breathing heavily as she scans the room. The windows around the auditorium are all boarded up even though there's minimal damage in here. As we stop moving, I can't help but notice it's gone eerily quiet.
There are no sounds at all except our breathing, and it starts to alarm me. It very much feels like we've just walked into a trap. Whoever is here couldn't have vanished that easily, and it feels like eyes are upon us.
Spencer appears to sense the same, her body twisting to turn toward me. "Hunter," she whispers with a frown.
I'm not sure what she's asking of me, but I step over to her, our arms brushing. "They're here somewhere," I answer under my breath. "Where could they be?" It's a direct question to her, urging that brain to use her knowledge of the building. I may know the blueprints but that's the extent of my participation. Spencer will know things that I don't—places where people could hide.
Her eyes focus on mine through the dark, face hardening as she gives a nod. I stay close to her as she crosses the auditorium toward a side door. For a second, I think she's going to go through it, but she walks past to the stage, climbing a set of stairs. The blue curtains are open, nothing seemingly out of place, but she heads to some draped curtains lining the back wall.
Peeling them back, I'm intrigued to find there's a door behind the stage, hidden from sight.
There we go. Smart girl.
I give myself a little internal praise for directing her before I follow Spencer into another dark room. I realize it's not a room per se, but a corridor, leading to a multitude of dressing rooms. They don't look like they have been used in some time, even before the fire. Everything is covered with white sheets to protect from dust, and a stale smell lingers in the air.
Our footsteps echo as we walk slowly, scanning empty rooms and listening to sounds. When we reach the wall at the end of the corridor, Spencer turns around with a frown.
"Not here," she mutters in disbelief.
"Think," I tell her, stepping in closer. "Are we certain they came in this way?"
I see uncertainty cross her face, but she nods. "Yeah."
"What about that side room in the auditorium?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "It's just a prop cupboard. Practically the size of a shoebox."
"Maybe we should check it out anyway," I offer, reaching into my pocket.
Extracting my cell, I see the missed call notifications from Rylan and Tai. That seems to jog Spencer's memory too, lifting her own cell and temporarily blinding me with the torch.
"They are on their way," I say to her, reading a text from Tai. "We should head back to the entrance and wait for them."
"But there's still someone here," she replies, disappointed. Her face wrinkles and I see guilt plastered all over it, as if she's taking this personally.
Sighing, I reach out awkwardly, patting her shoulder like I'm consoling a wounded animal. "We've probably scared them off. Best we head back and wait for the others."
Spencer gazes at me, my breath hitching as her eyes shine at me in appreciation. It catches me off-guard, not used to seeing this side of her. I don't know how to feel about it—other than confused as fuck.
"Okay," she agrees, motioning with her head for me to follow as she treks back toward the stage.
We walk in silence, neither of us knowing what to say to the other. As we start to near the secret door, my body stiffens, and I take a whiff of the air. This whole building reeks of smoke and charred materials, but the auditorium was largely undamaged. The smell of smoke seems stronger now, puzzling me.
As we push through the curtains onto the stage, we quickly discover why.
Spencer stops abruptly and I crash into her, my hands instinctively gripping her shoulders to steady us both. Our eyes are glued ahead to the other side of the auditorium, horror filling me.
Smoke billows under the cracks of the door, flooding into the room at an alarming speed. But that's not the most concerning part. It's a draw—somewhere between the fact that we left the now-closed doors open, and the goddamn orange glow that illuminates through the gaps.
We rush forward in unison, standing on the edge of the stage. Before either of us can speak or process what we are witnessing, flames lick through the wooden doors, disintegrating them before our eyes.
"Shit," I hiss, grabbing Spencer's wrist.
She's tensed up, eyes blown wide. After a few seconds, she finally reacts, turning to look at me with speechless, unbridled panic.
"Bexley!" I say sharply, yanking her wrist. "Emergency exit."
Slowly, she raises her other hand, pointing a finger toward the fire that's now completely engulfed the main doors. "We're looking at it."
"What?" The yelp that sounds from my mouth would leave me embarrassed on any other given day. "There has to be another exit! It's literally part of any good fire plan."
My tone seems to temporarily snap Spencer out of her panic. "Well, I don't know what to tell you," she barks at me. "There isn't another door!"
"Okay, okay," I mutter to myself, closing my eyes for a second as I try to ignore the rising heat and smoke that's quickly filling the room. Punching a few keys on my cell, I crash it into my ear, cursing until I hear the voice pick up on the other end. "Rylan! The fucking building is on fire. We're trapped inside the auditorium."
His voice pauses for a moment, before he lets out a string of curses as well. "Fuck. We're nearly there. Tai, call for help. Hunter, where's Bexley?"
"Here with me," I answer, realizing that I'm crushing her wrist in my grip. She doesn't seem fazed though, eyes scanning the room for a contingency plan. When she stops, narrowing her eyes on something, I spin around to follow her line of vision.
The door to the prop room is wide open. Anger rips through me as realization dawns that I was correct—it was a trap. Whoever is here led us to this room, deliberately locking us in.
And wants to burn us alive.
"Call me when you get here!" I yell before hanging up the cell before he can respond and shoving it into my pocket.
Spencer suddenly breaks our contact, flying across the stage. She disappears out of sight for a moment, reemerging out of an exit onto the floor. My eyes widen as she darts toward the flames, my body springing into action as I take a shortcut, jumping off the stage to chase after the insane woman running toward fire.
She runs over to a boarded-up window, hands clawing at the wood as she tries to pry it off. As thick smoke starts to surround her, hiding her from sight, I sprint forward, eyes watering and stinging. I follow the sound of violent coughing, hands blindly finding her waist through the smog.
I hastily shrug off my jacket, thrusting it at her face. "Breathe into this," I yell, and through the haze, I see her gawk at me in disbelief.
"No, you use it," she argues back, flinging it at me in some noble attempt to sacrifice herself. I growl when she starts violently coughing again, gasping for air as my own lungs scream as heat starts to sizzle our skin.
The fire is getting closer, and I grab the jacket, holding it against her mouth and nose myself since the stubborn woman won't do it. I can feel her body tremble against mine as she fights for air, the two of us pressed together. My free hand feels the board, searching for a weakness in the wood, but nothing comes up.
I snake my arm around her waist, ripping her back toward the stage. We're not getting out through the window, and the longer we try, the closer we get to suffocating and passing out—or being burned alive.
Dragging Spencer at lightning speed, I pull us both through the secret door to the dressing rooms, slamming it closed behind us. We lean our backs against it for a second, wheezing as we desperately suck in oxygen.
She makes an odd choking noise, and I gaze through the shadows at her. I grimace and panic when I see her eyes start to roll back, fighting to stay conscious.
"Don't you dare!" I shout at her, doing the only thing I can think of. I shove my mouth over hers, administering a few rescue breaths, ignoring the taste of smoke on her lips which are a horrible shade of blue. She's limp between the door and my body, but after a few seconds, I feel her tense up, becoming alert again.
I pull back as she sucks in a ragged breath, relieved when her eyes focus, blinking rapidly a few times before her brain finally kicks into gear. She looks at my jacket, draped over my arm, ripping it toward her. I watch as she bends down, shoving it under the door to block the smoke.
"Come on," she mutters, voice hoarse and cracking from the smoke inhalation. Grabbing my hand, she pulls me down the corridor to the last dressing room, pushing me inside before grabbing a fire extinguisher from the corridor wall. Closing the door behind us, we both reach for one of the white sheets, plunging it into the gaps around the doorjamb.
When we've done all that we can, the two of us walk backwards, staring at the door with wide eyes. Our backs hit the wall at the same time, and I feel her slouch next to me in resignation.
"For what it's worth," she murmurs quietly after a few minutes. "I still think you're an asshole."
"I still think you're a fucking bitch," I grumble.
Spencer laughs sadly, the weird contradictory sound making me feel uneasy. "Well, shit. I'm going to die here with you."
"We're not going to die," I snap firmly, but even I don't truly believe my own words.
She turns her head to look at me, offering a tight smile. There's a sickening rumble in the distance, the sound of roaring, hot flames getting louder. I feel her small hand link with mine, our fingers entwining together. And for the life of me, I don't have the will to let it go. I close my eyes, squeezing her hand back with a sigh.
"Fuck."
"Hunter?" she asks quietly.
"What?" I grumble again, but the usual coldness toward her in my tone is gone.
Spencer doesn't say anything straight away, and I open my eyes, checking to make sure she's okay. Our eyes lock and I find watery green irises staring back at me.
"Promise you won't let go?" Her voice cracks. And suddenly, I don't see my enemy in front of me. I just see a peer, an equal, in all her raw emotion, begging me for a fraction of humanity.
"I won't let go," I tell her, squeezing her hand as a loud bang shudders the building, something exploding nearby in the flames. "You're not alone, Bexley. I got you."