Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Bobby
The radio crackled to life in the firetruck, breaking through the steady hum of the sirens.
I tightened my grip on the handle above me as we sped through the city streets.
Another fire, another disaster. I should be used to this by now.
Get in, put out the flames, get everyone out alive.
That was the job. It didn’t matter how many times we did it—each time felt like a race against something bigger than us.
Mike sat across from me, securing his mask. "You good?"
"Always," I muttered, though something in my chest was already tight. Maybe it was just the weight of the job, the pressure that never fully left. Or maybe it was the fact that I hadn’t been able to shake the restless feeling I’d had all morning.
We pulled up to the scene, the heat already radiating from the three-story apartment building.
Smoke billowed from the windows, black against the orange glow of flames curling along the second floor.
People stood outside, coughing into their hands, eyes wide with panic. A woman sobbed into a neighbor’s arms.
I jumped down from the truck, pulling my helmet on as I scanned the area. The fire was bad, but it hadn’t spread to the top floor yet. If we moved fast, we could get everyone out before it did.
Carter ran up beside me, already assessing the situation. "Chief wants two teams—one on fire suppression, one on search and rescue."
"I’m going in," I said, strapping on my mask. "You’re with me."
We moved fast. Thick smoke clogged the stairwell, the heat pressing down like a heavy weight. My heart pounded, my focus narrowing in on one thing—find the people, get them out. Every second mattered.
"Fire department!" I called out, pushing open a door on the second floor. Flames licked along the ceiling, smoke curling toward us. "Anyone inside?"
A cough answered me.
I pushed in farther, spotting an older man curled against the wall, shielding his face from the heat. I grabbed him under the arms, helping him up.
"We got you, sir," I said, my voice steady. "Can you walk?"
He nodded weakly, and Carter stepped in to guide him toward the exit. Another scream echoed from down the hall.
"Help! Somebody help!"
I turned, moving toward the sound. A woman stood in the doorway of an apartment, clutching her daughter against her chest. The flames were creeping closer, eating away at the furniture behind them.
"Stay calm," I told her, stepping inside. "We’re getting you both out."
The girl was crying, her tiny hands gripping her mother’s shirt. I scooped her up, pressing her close to my chest as I guided the woman toward the door.
The building groaned around us, and my pulse jumped. We didn’t have much time.
"Go!" I yelled at Carter as we reached the stairwell. He ushered the woman down, and I followed, gripping the little girl tighter as we stepped into the open air.
The moment we were outside, the mother sobbed, pulling her daughter from my arms and pressing kisses into her hair. The relief on her face made the heat, the exhaustion, the weight of it all worth it.
I turned back to the fire, ready to go back in. And that’s when I heard it.
A voice. Her voice.
"Ma’am, please! My son is still inside!"
I froze.
That voice.
I turned slowly, my breath catching in my throat.
She stood on the other side of the crowd, her auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail, her press badge dangling around her neck. A familiar, infuriating, impossible sight.
Gabbi.
It felt like a punch to the gut. My fingers curled into fists as something hot and sharp rushed through me. What the hell was she doing here?
She was arguing with a firefighter near the caution tape, her eyes wild with urgency. My chest squeezed, old memories colliding with the present. I hadn’t seen her in six years. Had convinced myself I never would again.
And yet—here she was.
Still reckless. Still throwing herself into the middle of things she shouldn’t be in.
"Gabbi?" My own voice felt foreign, barely audible over the roar of the flames.
She didn’t hear me. She was too busy listening to the woman in front of her, whose tear-streaked face was twisted in desperation.
"My son," the woman cried. "He’s still on the third floor. Please, someone help him!"
Gabbi’s expression hardened with determination, and before I could react, she was running toward the fire.
My pulse exploded.
"Gabbi!"
She didn’t stop.
Panic slammed into me, cutting through everything else. She was going inside. Into the flames, into the danger, without any goddamn protection.
My feet moved before my brain did.
I shoved through the crowd, heading straight for her. "Gabbi, don’t!"
She was already past the caution tape, sprinting toward the entrance.
I pushed harder, but someone grabbed my arm—Mike. "Bobby, wait!"
"She’s going inside!" My voice came out sharp, edged with pure fury.
"Then let her," he snapped. "You can’t go in after her without gear!"
I barely heard him. My mind was only on her.
Gabbi, running straight into a burning building.
Gabbi, disappearing through the smoke.
Gabbi, breaking every promise I ever made to myself to stop caring.
My lungs clenched as the fire raged higher, swallowing her whole.
And then—she was gone.