Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Gabbi
The heat hit me the second I stepped through the door. It was suffocating, thick with smoke, the air so heavy it felt like my lungs were already fighting for breath. But I couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when a little boy was trapped inside.
I kept low, pressing my sleeve against my mouth as I moved through the hallway. The fire crackled somewhere above me, the building groaning under the weight of its destruction. It was stupid. So damn stupid. But I couldn't just stand there. I had promised his mother.
The walls were lined with flickering orange, the flames licking at the ceiling as I pressed forward. My eyes burned, watering as I forced myself to focus. The apartment door to my left was half-open, the wooden frame already scorched black at the edges. I stepped inside, scanning the room.
"Hello?" My voice came out rough, barely audible over the roaring fire. "It’s okay! I’m here to help!"
Silence.
A knot twisted in my stomach. What if I was too late? What if?—
A cough. Faint. Muffled.
I spun toward the sound, heart hammering. A small figure crouched under a wooden table, his arms wrapped around his knees.
"There you are," I breathed, relief surging through me. I dropped to my hands and knees, crawling toward him. He couldn't have been older than five, his dark eyes wide with terror. Soot covered his tiny face, his little chest rising and falling in panicked breaths.
I reached out carefully. "Hey, buddy, I’m Gabbi. Your mom sent me to get you, okay? We have to go now."
He shook his head violently, pressing himself further into the shadows under the table.
My pulse pounded. "I know it’s scary, but we can’t stay here. The fire’s getting worse." Another crash from somewhere in the apartment made both of us jump. I forced my voice to stay calm. "You can hold my hand, alright? I won’t let go."
Still, he didn’t move. His tiny fingers gripped the table leg like it was the only thing keeping him safe.
The smoke thickened, curling around us, making my lungs burn. I didn’t have time to coax him.
I moved fast, reaching under the table and pulling him into my arms. He let out a frightened cry, kicking against me, but I held on tight. "I got you," I murmured, staggering to my feet.
The second I turned toward the door, my stomach dropped.
Thick, black smoke had swallowed the hallway. The fire that had only been creeping along the ceiling moments ago was now everywhere. The heat pressed in from all sides, the floor beneath me almost too hot to stand on.
We were trapped.
Panic clawed up my throat, but I shoved it down. Think. There had to be another way out. A window. A back exit. Something.
I turned sharply, scanning the apartment. The only window was across the room, partially open, but flames were climbing the exterior of the building. If I broke it, the fresh oxygen would only make things worse.
My chest heaved. My arms tightened around the little boy as I shifted my weight from foot to foot, trying to fight the rising wave of fear. I was going to get him out. I had to.
A deep voice cut through the chaos.
"Gabbi!"
My heart lurched.
Then, out of the smoke, he appeared.
Bobby.
I barely had a second to process the rage on his face before he stormed toward me. His movements were fast, sharp, fueled by something barely contained.
I didn’t get a word out before he ripped the child from my arms, cradling him against his chest as if he were his own.
"Follow me," Bobby snapped, voice tight with fury.
I obeyed without question.
He moved fast, navigating the flames like he had done it a hundred times before. His breathing was steady, controlled, as if he wasn’t just pulling two people from a death trap.
The hallway groaned above us. Smoke churned through the air. Everything was collapsing.
Bobby didn’t slow down.
His grip on the boy was iron-tight, shielding him from the worst of the heat as he charged toward the stairwell. I stayed on his heels, my entire body screaming for air, for an escape.
We reached the stairs, and the heat from below nearly knocked me backward. Flames were climbing from the first floor now, blocking the way we came in.
Bobby barely hesitated. He turned toward a side corridor, one I hadn't noticed before.
"Here!" He pushed forward, shouldering through a door. The second it swung open, clean air rushed over us.
Fresh oxygen. A chance.
The fire escape.
Bobby climbed out onto the landing, adjusting the boy in his arms as he kicked the release lever. The ladder screeched before sliding down with a metallic clang.
"Go," he ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.
I scrambled onto the ladder, climbing down as fast as my shaky legs would allow. The moment my feet hit the pavement, I spun, watching as Bobby followed, the little boy still pressed against his chest.
The second he hit the ground, the building collapsed.
A deafening roar filled the night as the flames swallowed what was left. Debris rained down, smoke and ash billowing into the air.
I stumbled back, shielding my face as the heat lashed against my skin. The little boy sobbed into Bobby’s shoulder, his tiny hands gripping his jacket.
Sirens screamed. People shouted. The world spun in a haze of fire and chaos.
I turned to Bobby, ready to thank him, to say something—but the second our eyes met, the words died on my tongue.
His face was twisted with rage.
His jaw was clenched so tight I thought he might break his teeth. His eyes, sharp green and filled with something dangerous, locked onto mine like a target.
Every muscle in his body was tense, his hands trembling slightly as he passed the boy into the waiting arms of a paramedic.
Then he turned back to me.
And I knew what was coming.
I braced myself, my pulse hammering as he stepped closer. The fire behind him raged on, but it was nothing compared to the storm in his expression.
Bobby was about to explode.