Chapter 32 – Mateo
Chapter Thirty-Two
MATEO
The smoke hasn’t let up.
It keeps pouring from the east side of the building like the school itself is exhaling its last breath. Every few seconds, there’s a new groan, a new crack, a new warning deep inside the structure that it’s only a matter of time before something gives.
We’ve managed to hold the fire back from the central corridor…barely. It’s a patchwork of soaked drywall and scorched tile, a barricade of desperate effort and luck that could fail at any second.
I swipe a hand across my brow, adjust my mask. The hallway ahead of us is warped with heat, air shimmering above the floor. It smells like burning paper, plastic, and glue…like a school turning to ash.
The structure’s groaning more now. Louder. Closer. Everything sounds strained, like the building is holding its breath for the final blow. One bad shift and this whole damn wing is coming down.
I bark directions to the crew—check the corner duct, reinforce the east pressure line. Everyone moves quickly, in perfect synchronicity. We all know the rhythm. Fire pushes, we push harder.
It’s chaos. But it’s controlled. We’ve got this.
That’s all I think…until I see the look on the firefighter sprinting across the lot toward command.
He’s young. Pale under the soot. Eyes wide, not just fear, but panic.
And not the kind of panic that comes from smoke or flame.
This is something else. Something bigger. Something worse.
He doesn’t even stop to catch his breath. “Captain…we’ve got a problem.”
Nathan doesn’t look up from the incident map he’s yelling into. His voice is clipped. “Yeah, I know. The building’s falling apart. We’ve got active flames in three corridors and a roof about to give.”
“No,” the guy blurts out, cutting him off. “It’s worse. Dispatch just called it in. A 911 call came from inside the building. A little girl. She said her mom’s hurt. She said they were decorating a classroom and got trapped.”
Nathan’s head jerks up. The words hit like a hammer. A classroom. A little girl. My stomach drops.
“Was the girl’s name Maya?” I ask, but I already know.
The firefighter nods. “Yeah. Maya Garcia.”
And that’s it. My body moves before I can think. I lunge forward, boots already hitting pavement. The world narrows to a single point: that building. That smoke. That little girl.
“Mateo!” Nathan’s voice explodes behind me. “Don’t you fucking go in there!”
But I’m already gone. I make it five steps before Seb charges up beside me.
“That’s my niece,” he pants. “My sister’s in there.” His voice cracks, panic bleeding through every word. He doesn’t even look at me, his eyes are locked on the flames like he’s ready to throw himself into them.
I reach for him. “Seb—”
But I don’t get a chance to say more. Two firefighters from Ladder One slam in from the side, grabbing Seb before he can take another step.
“Sebastian, no!” one of them yells. “You’re not cleared for entry!”
He thrashes in their hold, kicking, twisting, teeth bared like a man possessed. “That’s my family in there! Let me go!”
I turn to run, but Andres is suddenly in front of me—arms out, blocking my path. “Bro, no. Just stop a second. Think.”
“Move,” I snap, trying to shove past, but he grabs me, arms locking around my torso. “Andres, don’t—”
“Mateo, please,” he says. “Cap gave a direct order—”
“There’s no time!” I bark. “She’s just a kid, Andres. She’s just a kid. Analyse is hurt. And Maya, my Maya, called from inside that fucking fire. We don’t have minutes—we barely have seconds!”
Behind us, Seb roars, fighting harder against the firefighters holding him back. “Then let him go! You let Mateo go! He can get to them!”
Andres falters, just a beat. His grip slips, the pressure around my chest loosening as he looks between us.
“Please,” Seb says, voice breaking. “Get them out.”
Andres nods once. Just once. I tear free.
Nathan’s voice explodes behind us, “Mateo! STAND DOWN! That’s an order!”
I don’t turn around. I don’t hesitate. The only thing I hear is Seb yelling, “Let me go! Let me fucking go!”
Nathan shouts, “Hold him back! Nobody follows! Mateo made his choice!”
Boots scrape pavement. Radios crackle. Someone curses. But I’m already halfway across the lot. Smoke curls up around my boots, thick and punishing, blurring the edges of the world. The school looms in front of me like a dying beast—cracked, groaning, flame pulsing in its ribs.
I don’t stop. I don’t think. I just see Analyse’s face. I only hear Maya’s little laugh.
God. They were here the whole time. And I didn’t know.
I slam through the west-side entrance, the heat hitting me like a freight train. The hallway snarls around me—sparking lights, moaning beams, smoke clawing at the seams. My gear feels too heavy, my breath too thin, but I press forward.
Because I don’t know what room they’re in.
I don’t know how long they’ve been trapped.
I don’t even know if they can still breathe.
But I know Maya. I know Analyse. And I know I will not walk out of this building without them.
There isn’t a single thing in this world that can stop me from getting to them.
I couldn’t save my mom when the fire came for our home. Couldn’t be there for my dad. And Maribel, I couldn’t save her. I lived and they didn’t…a truth that’s carved into my bones, carried in every alarm bell, every scream through smoke.
But this time…this time, I’m not too late. I am going to save Maya and Analyse. I have to. There’s nothing that will stop that.
Not fire. Not steel. Not the weight of this gear or the walls falling down around me.
Not even death. If this building takes me, I’ll claw through ash and bone to find them.
If the flames eat me alive, I’ll let them burn through everything but the part of me that loves them.
Because no grave, no fire, no force in this world can hold me down if they’re still breathing.
I crouch low, sweeping my flashlight side to side, heart slamming in my chest like it’s trying to break free.
Eighteen. Twenty. Twenty-two. My gut twists. They have to be here. They have to be. A loud crack echoes above—wood splintering. I duck instinctively as debris rains down from a collapsing air vent.
I keep moving. Smoke curls in every direction, coiling, taunting me like it wants to take something from me. But it won’t. Not today. Because Maya called for help. And no one—nothing—is getting to her before I do.