Chapter 34 – Mateo
Chapter Thirty-Four
MATEO
Everything is on fire.
The hallway groans around me, beams cracking like brittle bones, the walls gasping smoke as if the building itself is choking. Sparks rain down from the ceiling tiles, embers skittering like fallen stars across the floor.
I charge forward, ducking beneath a broken beam, my boots slamming into the warped linoleum. My flashlight cuts through the thick air, slicing through plumes of gray like a blade. My lungs are tight. My vision tunnels. Every thought narrows to one thing: Get to them.
I know this wing. Analyse once told me they got stuck with the worst classroom.
The one with the drafty vents, busted heater, and cabinets that fell off the hinges if you breathed wrong.
Room 24. She said it like a joke, laughing the way only she can.
Analyse. She could always turn something broken into something beautiful.
I hold on to that detail like a map etched into my ribs.
A wall of heat slams into me as I round the corner.
The air shifts, more violent, more alive.
Debris blocks the path ahead—wood, tile, melted plastic—but there’s just enough space under the wreckage to drop to my knees and crawl.
Smoke churns thick and black, coiling like a living thing.
Embers flicker across the rubble like dying stars in reverse.
“Analyse! Maya!” I yell, voice ragged, the smoke clawing at my throat like it wants to take something from me.
Nothing. For one gut punched second, I hear nothing. Then—
“Mateo!”
A small voice, muffled and cracking. But it cuts through everything like a prayer.
“Maya?!”
“We’re here! In here!”
My entire body jolts. I surge forward, heart punching against my ribs, trying to claw its way out.
Room 24.
Smoke bleeds from the doorframe, thick and furious. The door is warped from the heat, the handle blackened and missing. I don’t think. I just move.
One kick. Two. On the third, the door splinters, groaning open as smoke explodes outward in a wave of heat and ash. Flames snarl along the edges of the wall. Paper peels from the bulletin boards. The air tastes like chemicals and grief.
“Mateo!” Maya throws herself into my arms. She’s shaking. Her little face is streaked with soot, her cheeks blotchy with tears. I drop to one knee and wrap my arms around her.
“I’ve got you,” I whisper. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you.”
She clutches my neck like a lifeline. “Mami…she can’t get up. She’s hurt.”
I swallow hard and set Maya down just outside the door. “Stay right here. Low to the ground. Use your shirt. Cover your mouth, okay? Don’t move unless I say.”
She nods and does it without hesitation. Because she’s brave. Because she’s her mother’s daughter.
I turn back into the flames. And there she is.
Analyse. Slumped against the supply shelf, one arm limply curled over her stomach, her body folded like she’s trying to shield herself.
Her head tilts to the side, eyes barely open.
Ash clings to her lashes. Her jeans are soaked with blood, her leg bent at a sickening angle that makes my stomach lurch.
“Analyse.” Her name slips from my mouth like a vow. I fall to my knees beside her. “I’m here. I’ve got you, mi amor.”
She blinks. “Mateo?”
Her voice is barely a whisper. I lean in, forehead to hers. “Yeah. I’m here, chula. I’m gonna get you out.”
She tries to say something more, but coughs instead—deep, rattling. Her whole body trembles.
“I know it hurts,” I say, sliding an arm under her knees, the other around her back. “But we’ve got to go. Just hold on”
The room growls louder. I lift. She screams.
I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m sorry. I know. I’m so sorry, baby.”
The pain is etched across her face, raw and gasping. But her arms cling to me, her face burrowing into my neck. I carry her to the door, each step a war. Maya is right there, eyes wide and shining.
“Grab my coat,” I tell her. “We’re getting out of here.”
She nods and grips the edge of my turnout gear with one soot-streaked hand. We step back into the hallway. Hell waits for us.
The fire has found its roar—full throated and hungry. Ceiling tiles collapse like bombs. The air blisters. Every breath is a fight. My boots splash through puddles that evaporate beneath us.
“Move!” I shout. “Stay with me!”
Maya clings tighter. Analyse whimpers against my chest, her breaths shallow, her skin too hot. I push forward through the smoke, flame, and falling ash. Then—a thunderous crack.
Behind us, the ceiling gives. The hallway caves in. Room 24 disappears in a wall of fire. I don’t look back. I run.
The west exit is ahead, blurry though the smoke. But it’s there. It’s life. I barrel toward it, muscles burning, lungs screaming, everything inside me held together by a thread made of their names.
We break through. Sunlight crashes into my face. I drop to my knees, clutching Analyse like the last thing I’ll ever hold. Maya falls beside me, sobbing. Everything explodes.
Seb’s voice. Mari. Anna. Captain Nathan shouting orders.
“Maya!” Seb lifts her into his arms. “Oh my God, baby.”
But I can’t look away from her. “She needs a medic!” I scream. “Now!”
Boots pound across the pavement. Radios crackle. Someone yells for a stretcher.
I brush the soot from her face with shaking hands. “You’re okay,” I whisper, my voice broken. “You’re okay, Lyse. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I love you. I love you. I love you.”
Her lashes flutter. She blinks up at me, barely awake. Barely there. But she’s alive. I can’t believe it. She’s alive.
A sob punches out of my chest. I saved her. I saved them.