Relief and rage all at once
Chapter twenty-five
Evan
We’ve been back at the station for less than five minutes after a two-hour callout, barely long enough to strip out of gear before we're searching down snacks.
“If the PD win next year,” Fletch says, rummaging through the fridge, “I’m blaming you, Lawson.”
“Why me?” Colt asks.
“Because you brought electrolyte powder to every Maplewood Cup game.”
“It’s called hydration.”
I smirk. “Brother had his supplements portioned into little baggies like he was trafficking pre-workout.”
“I didn’t want the tub exploding in my bag!”
Ghost stares at him from across the table. “You used to eat gas station hot dogs for dinner.”
“That was before my knees started sounding like glow sticks and I had two kids under three.”
Beck doesn’t look up from the paperwork in front of him. “Fletch, Colt—both of you are on equipment checks in ten.”
The room hums the way it always does mid-afternoon after a busy run of calls. Dishwasher’s running, someone’s out in the bay dragging a chair across concrete. There’s a low static from the radio in the corner that never fully goes quiet.
I pull my phone from my pocket now that we’ve got a chance to sit. A missed call from Penny sits near the top of my screen from over two hours ago, and my brows pull together immediately. Underneath it is a text from Remi, sent fifteen minutes ago.
Remi: Elle insists firefighters are braver than police officers. I did not start this narrative.
There’s a picture of Elle mid-spin in the kitchen, one sock on, hair half out of its braid. She looks like she’s vibrating with her own happiness.
Me: She’s correct.
Remi: Tell that to Kane.
Me: Everything good there?
Remi: She’s fine. We’re making pink pancakes for afternoon tea.
I exhale quietly through my nose before opening Penny’s thread. The last message sitting there is from late this morning.
Lucky Pen: Wearing your FD t-shirt today because it smells good. Sorry in advance.
Something warm and helpless twists through me, and I read it again just because I can. Because the thought of her wrapped up in my shirt all day, smelling like mine, is so fucking satisfying—and I don’t care if that makes me a possessive asshole.
I can still feel the weight of her hand at the back of my neck from this morning. The soft curve of her smile against my mouth before I left, telling me in that musical voice of hers to come home safe.
I want to hear her voice again now. And while the station’s quiet, I tap her name to call back.
The tones drop.
It cuts through the room clean and sharp, and everything inside me shifts before I even register the sound fully. Chairs scrape. Beck is already on his feet. Fletch swears under his breath as he shoves all the food back into the fridge.
“Maplewood Fire, respond—”
The dispatcher’s voice rides over the speakers as we move, and I’m grabbing my turnouts before the address even finishes.
“Multiple reports of smoke visible near downtown. Caller reports hearing a female yelling from inside the structure. Caller no longer hears her.”
Shit.
I pull my suspenders over my shoulders and step into my boots in one motion.
“Location: Maple Hill Tower.”
For a second, all of us pause. The crooked silhouette of that tower flashes in my head—the way it leans just enough to make us all nervous. It’s been abandoned for years.
I don’t say anything, I don’t need to. We’re already moving, grabbing helmets and jackets. I check my radio out of habit.
“Copy,” Beck says calmly as we head for the bay. “Structure fire. Possible occupants.”
“Engine One, be advised,” the voice crackles over the radio, tighter now. “Possible person trapped, ground level. Smoke increasing.”
Across from me, Colt is already pulling his gloves on.
“Tower’s a nightmare inside,” he mutters. “Those stairs are narrow as hell.”
“We’ll vent quick,” Beck says from the front.
I stare straight ahead as we take the turn onto Main, and smoke is visible before we even crest the hill, climbing up past the crooked edge of the tower.
My pulse picks up, but it’s the kind that comes with the job. My focus narrows, and I go over what needs to be done in my head. There’s a possible person trapped—that’s the most significant thing right now.
We roll up the hillside at speed, the siren cutting just before we come to a halt. The doors swing open, and heat hits first.
It rolls off the brick in heavy waves as soon as my boots hit pavement, thick enough that I feel it through the turnout gear. Smoke is pushing hard from the upper windows, dark and dense and churning against the sky.
“Hydrant’s clear,” Fletch calls.
“Establish water supply,” Beck answers, already scanning the structure. “Primary search on entry. Colt, you’re vent.”
I’m moving toward the hose bed, mask hanging loose against me, when I see it.
Penny’s car.
Parked crooked along the curb, the front tire kissed up against the concrete like she meant to stop for five minutes and run back out.
For one impossible second, my brain refuses to understand what I’m looking at. It’s just a shape I know, a color I’ve memorized in parking lots and outside my house. My eyes lock on the car’s plate again. Maybe I’ve got it wrong somehow, but I know every scratch on that damn car.
Everything stops, because there’s no universe where I mistake that car.
“Penny,” I hear myself say, barely more than air.
I jerk back toward the tower, and my legs suddenly feel like cement. My body suddenly feels too slow for my brain to keep up with.
Dispatch reported a possible victim inside. Female. Screaming, but not anymore.
“PENNY!”
Colt’s head snaps toward me first, then Beck’s.
“What?” Fletch says.
I watch the smoke rolling from the upper windows in thick black waves, and suddenly all I can hear is the blood roaring in my ears and Chip near the entrance, soot streaked across his face.
“She was screaming,” Chip chokes out, his hands in his hair. “I tried to get in, but it was too hot—”
The world narrows violently, and I hear Colt swear under his breath behind me, and Beck looks from Chip then back toward the car parked at the curb, and I watch the realization hit him.
“Oh fuck,” Fletch mutters.
“She’s in there!” The words rip out of me raw.
“Prince.” Beck’s voice cracks like a whip. “Mask up. Ghost, with him. Primary search, ground floor. Stay on the line.”
I hear him. I know the order and understand it, the safety built into every word. But still something inside me snaps clean through.
I’m moving before Ghost can catch up, before the line is fully charged, and before anyone can put a hand on me to make me wait another second.
There’s no room left for logic now. No room for anything except getting to Penny before the fire does. I’m not fucking waiting. Fuck that and fuck protocol.
“Prince!” Beck snaps.
“She’s in there!” I roar back, already at the doorway.
“Stick to your—”
I don’t hear the rest.
The doorway breathes heat into my face as I cross the threshold. Smoke swallows the light almost immediately, thick and black and moving fast. Heat slams into my gear hot enough to feel, and the beam of my flashlight turns useless in seconds, bouncing off smoke instead of walls.
The whole structure sounds alive. Wood popping, glass breaking. And a low groan somewhere deep in the building that vibrates through the floor beneath my boots.
My mask seals tight as I drag in a breath, regulator hissing loud in my ears. Every inhale sounds panicked inside my mask, too fast and harsh. I’m burning through air quicker than I should, and I know it, but my body won’t slow down.
“Fire department!” I shout, pushing deeper inside. “Penny!”
“Prince!” Beck’s voice cracks through the radio. “Hold your assignment!”
I ignore him.
Heat intensifies as I move further in, while sweat’s already running down my spine beneath the turnout gear. Visibility drops to almost nothing in seconds.
“PENNY!”
Nothing.
There’s a loud crash somewhere to my right, and I spin instinctively toward it, my flashlight catching warped floorboards and old support beams. Smoke rolls across the ceiling in violent waves above me, blackening everything it touches.
I know this building—we’ve trained here before. It’s one wide room with center beams. But it doesn’t feel familiar now, it feels wrong. Anywhere without Penny feels wrong.
My gloved hand darts out in front of me, and I shove forward into the room more, moving blind and fast now.
There’s a small, broken sound. Maybe her, or maybe it’s the building groaning. Then something crashes somewhere to my right.
“Prince, hold position!” Beck snaps through the radio. “Interior team forming—”
“Penny is fucking in here, Beck!” I roar back, not even sure if the transmission carries through properly.
Another breath tears through the regulator too fast, and my pulse pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. I turn, jerking around in a circle, desperate for any sign I can find.
Then the smoke shifts for half a second, and I see it, a shape near the base of one of the beams. I’m moving before I even think.
“Penny!”
She’s slumped against a chair, wrists bound tight against the arms with rope looped around the backrest. Her head hangs forward, hair falling across her face, and for one horrifying second, she doesn’t move at all.
Relief and rage hit all at once.
“No. No, no, no—”
My knees hit the ground in front of her hard enough that the impact rattles through them. Smoke smudges her skin beneath the flashlight beam, and her lips are parted slightly, breaths shallow and uneven beneath the crackling roar of the fire around us.
And her wrists—
Fucking Christ. The rope’s dug so deep into them, I can see angry red abrasions forming.
Something hot and vicious tears through me so hard it almost chokes me.
Who the fuck did this to her?
“Hey, Penny.” My voice fractures inside the mask. “Hey, baby, look at me.”
My gloved hand cups her face, thumb dragging soot gently from her cheek.
“Penny. Penelope.”
Her lashes flutter, and a weak sound leaves her throat, and relief hits me so hard I nearly fold in half.
“She’s located,” I choke into the mic. “Ground floor. I’ve got her.”
“Prince, conditions are deteriorating,” Beck fires back immediately. “You need to move.”
My hands are already at the rope, fingers clumsy in the gloves. The knot’s cinched, brutal and tight, soaked with heat and smoke.
“Come on,” I mutter desperately. “Come on—”
The rope won’t fucking move. I rip one glove off and yank at the knot bare-handed.
“Colt, we need that vent open,” Beck barks through the channel.
“Working on it!” Colt shoots back, breathless.
The ceiling groans somewhere above us, and a shower of sparks rains down nearby.
“Fuck.”
I yank my knife free and saw through the rope, my hand shaking harder than it ever has on a call.
“Stay with me,” I beg, pressing closer to her. “You stay with me, Pen. C’mon, baby.”
The rope finally splits, and her body pitches forward immediately. I catch her against my chest, arms wrapping under her shoulders.
She’s too limp. Way too fucking limp.
“Ambulance,” I snap into the radio as panic detonates through me. “We need an ambo staged right now. Smoke inhalation.”
“Copy,” dispatch answers through static.
A deafening crack splits overhead, and the sound punches straight through my spine. Every firefighter instinct in my body screams at once.
Structural compromise.
“Prince!” Beck roars. “Get the fuck out!”
I get one arm under her knees and lift, but she doesn’t wake from the motion. Her head falls heavily against my shoulder, smoke-stained hair sticking against my gear.
The room feels like it’s shrinking around us now. The air’s thick enough that every breath feels stolen, and I stagger toward the doorway, boots slipping on debris. My shoulder slams into the frame as something huge crashes behind us, and I force my way toward where the entrance should be.
Light finally punches through the smoke, and I push for it. The second I clear the threshold, hands are there—Ghost, Fletch—grabbing her weight to help while I stumble after them into open air, keeping her crushed to my chest.
“Medic!” someone yells.
“Easy, easy—”
They try to take her from me, and I jerk back instinctively.
“I’ve got her,” I choke out.
“Prince, let us take her.”
“No.”
“She can’t breathe, Prince.” Ghost reaches for her again. “Let them work.”
Penny coughs weakly against my chest, and panic detonates through me all over again.
“Evan.”
Beck’s voice is firm enough that I finally let them pull Penny from my arms, but every muscle in my body fights it like instinct. The second she leaves my grip, the world feels wrong.
Ghost and one of the medics lower her onto the stretcher fast, oxygen mask already coming down over her face, while soot smears across their gloves.
“She’s breathing,” Ghost says quickly. “Pulse is there.”
I rip my mask off hard and drag cold air into my lungs, but my eyes never leave her.
Not when they cut away the rope still hanging from one wrist. Not when she lets out another weak cough.
Definitely not when the medic starts checking her pupils while asking questions she’s too out of it to answer.
Around us, the scene keeps moving—hoses dragging and orders being shouted. There’s water hammering somewhere behind the tower.
“Vent’s almost open!” Colt yells from the roof.
My head jerks up automatically, and through the smoke I catch the briefest glimpse of him near the roofline, one knee braced and axe in hand.
The sound starts. It's slow, but every firefighter on scene freezes. The tower groans from somewhere deep in its bones, and Beck spins instantly.
“Everybody back up! COLT, GET DOWN!”
The roofline shifts and sways, and suddenly, everything shifts into slow motion. The upper structure folds inward with a violent drop, brick and timber collapsing into the space Penny and I were in less than two minutes ago.
Brick explodes outward and heat blasts across the street, shoving the air from my lungs. Someone tackles me backward as debris rains down where we were standing seconds earlier.
The world turns into screaming metal and dust and smoke.
Sound warps into a low, distorted hum, and I’m marginally aware my ears are ringing. People are shouting. Someone is screaming Colt’s name, and radios erupt with overlapping shouts for personnel checks.
“MAYDAY, MAYDAY—”
“Tower’s down!”
I hear Chief Rhodes’s voice cut through the chaos over command. “All crews sound off. Accountability check now.”
But all I can do is stare at the spot where the roof used to be.
Gone.
And Colt Lawson along with it.