Chapter 28 Zane
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Zane
What is that?
A strange stinging in my nostrils drags me from sleep. It’s almost bitter in the way it tinges my nostril hair.
I lie there staring at the ceiling, trying to convince myself I imagined it. The apartment above The Hollow always carries leftover scents from the night before. Beer soaked into wood, citrus cleaner, the faint sweetness of whatever syrup Finn spilled and swore he wiped up.
This is none of those.
I breathe in again, deeper this time, and the sting sharpens into certainty.
Smoke.
Shit.
I bolt upright, my body already moving before my thoughts fully form, because instinct doesn’t wait for permission.
My heart isn’t racing wildly, but it’s calm and alert in a way that tells me this matters.
I swing my legs off the bed, pull on jeans in the dark, and step into the hallway without bothering with a light.
“Ryder,” I call out. “Buddy.”
His door opens almost at once. He doesn’t look confused, only awake in that quiet, assessing way he has. Finn’s door follows a second later, banging against the wall as he stumbles out, hair a mess until he inhales and goes still.
“You smell that?” he asks.
“I do,” I answer, already heading for the stairs.
We move down together, the Hollow below us dark and silent, chairs stacked, neon unplugged. The smell intensifies as we cross the floor toward the back, sharpening from suggestion into a sensation that presses against my lungs.
I unlock the back door and shove it open.
The night air hits my face, cool and clean except for the thin gray ribbon of smoke curling upward along the brick beneath the office window.
For half a second, I can’t make sense of what I’m seeing.
Then the shine registers.
Low against the wall, flames climbing from the stack of pallets we’d pushed tight to the building for pickup. They aren’t roaring out of control. They’re climbing with intent.
My chest goes cold in a way that has nothing to do with the season.
“No,” I mutter, stepping forward.
The fire is positioned directly beneath the office window, beneath the room where Ryder keeps the licenses, the financial records, every piece of documentation that’s been scrutinized since the council meeting.
I don’t waste time thinking about it.
The hose is coiled beside the door, and I yank it free, twisting the spigot open so hard the metal bites into my palm. Water sputters at first before the pressure catches, and I drag the line toward the base of the flames, boots slipping slightly on damp pavement.
I aim low, sweeping back and forth, hitting the base where the fire feeds.
Steam erupts upward as the water makes contact, but the flames resist longer than they should, flaring briefly as if they’ve been given more to hold onto.
The smell confirms it before my brain wants to.
Gasoline.
My stomach twists hard.
This isn’t a wiring issue. This isn’t a stray ember drifting from somewhere else. This is fuel.
Behind me, Ryder doesn’t ask if it’s bad. He reads it the same way I do. The placement, the height, the way the fire hugs the brick beneath the office window as if it knows exactly what’s above it.
“It’s set,” I say through my teeth, keeping the hose locked on the base.
Ryder is already pulling his phone from his pocket. “This is Ryder Hayes. We’ve got an active fire at The Hollow. Back alley. Accelerant involved.”
Finn swears softly and takes a step backward, eyes flicking from the flames to the building and then toward the stairs that lead back up. “Aurora.”
The word hits as another flare.
She’s upstairs, unaware.
Ryder’s gaze snaps to Finn. “Get her out.”
I keep the water trained low, sweeping side to side. The flames shrink, then flare again where the fuel is strongest, licking higher toward the window frame. Steam thickens the alley, mixing with the sharp chemical scent that makes my throat burn.
Sirens wail in the distance, growing louder fast. Relief mixes with the anger, sharp and hot in my chest. I adjust the hose again, refusing to let the fire take even an inch more than it already has.
Ryder steps past me just enough to assess the angle. He scans the rooftops, the alley mouth, and the shadows between the dumpsters. He’s not watching the flames. He’s watching the escape routes.
He’s thinking ahead.
The window above the burn glows faintly from reflected flame, and I imagine the paperwork on the other side. The compliance files, the licensing documents Benjamin Wren is so interested in. The timing is too clean to ignore.
Footsteps pound behind us, and Finn reappears with Aurora wrapped in his jacket, her hair loose and eyes wide but calm. Confusion is still clinging to her expression as she takes in the alley.
“What happened?” she asks.
“A fire, but a small one,” Finn says quickly. “We’ve got it.”
I don’t look at her. I can’t afford to.
The engine rounds the corner in a wash of red light, brakes hissing as Jesse brings it in tight. Leo and Karl jump down before it fully stops, already moving with purpose.
They take the line from me seamlessly, stronger pressure slamming into the base. Water roars. Steam billows thick and white. The flames collapse under the force, shrinking back into blackened wood and soaked brick.
Within minutes, it’s out.
The brick holds. The window doesn’t crack. The fire never breaches the wall, but my mind doesn’t settle.
I stare at the charred pallets and try to make it make sense.
If this was vandalism, it would be messy.
If this was random, it’d be bigger.
If this was a warning…
Behind me, I hear Aurora’s breath catch as the smoke thins.
Leo’s the first one over once the last of the steam clears, helmet tucked under his arm, expression already shifting from emergency mode to assessment. He walks the perimeter slowly, crouching near the base of the wall, gloved fingers hovering over the blackened wood without touching it.
“This wasn’t accidental,” he says, not looking up.
Karl exhales under his breath. “Yeah. No kidding.”
Jesse steps closer to the pallets, using the end of a tool to shift one of the charred pieces aside. The burn pattern is tight, concentrated low and center. Whoever lit it knew exactly how fire behaves and exactly how to keep it controlled.
“Accelerant’s light,” Jesse adds. “Whoever did it didn’t want the whole building. They wanted a show.”
“A show for who?” Finn mutters.
Leo finally straightens and looks at us. “For you.”
Aurora moves closer despite Finn’s protective hand on her back. She stares at the brick beneath the office window, her eyes tracking upward to the glass, then back down again. She’s pale, but she isn’t panicking.
Ryder snarls angrily. “How long do you think it burned before we caught it?”
Jesse glances at the wall, then at the soaked debris. “Hard to say exactly. Not long. Ten minutes, maybe less. It was building, but it hadn’t found real traction yet.”
“If we’d slept through it?” Finn asks.
Karl answers that one. “It would’ve reached the frame. Might’ve cracked the window. Once it got oxygen inside, it would’ve been a different night.”
My mind runs that scenario whether I want it to or not. Flames breaching the office. Paper catching. Sprinklers failing to keep up. Smoke rolling through the bar before we woke up.
Leo points to the base again. “Whoever did this stacked those pallets tighter than they were before. See that?” He gestures to the angle. “They leaned them in toward the wall. That helps heat reflect back instead of outward.”
“That’s intentional,” Ryder says quietly.
“Very,” Jesse confirms.
Karl steps toward the alley mouth and scans the street beyond. “No cameras back here?”
Ryder shakes his head once. “Not on the rear lot yet.”
“Inside and front are covered,” Zane adds. “This side’s next.”
“Time to change that,” Karl replies.
Finn drags a hand down his face.
“This is connected,” he says, not even phrasing it as a question. “First council pressure and licensing threats. And now this.”
Leo doesn’t speak, but the look he gives Ryder says he’s already drawn the same line.
“You thinking club?” Jesse asks carefully.
“Either them,” Ryder says evenly, “or someone who wants it to look like them.”
Aurora swallows. “Is this because of the meeting?”
Ryder’s gaze shifts to her, softening just slightly. “It’s because someone wants leverage.”
“And this is leverage,” Finn says bitterly. “This is giving them the ‘danger’ they talked about. Danger we’re bringing to the town.”
I look at the brick again, imagining the office on the other side, the files stacked neatly in drawers, the binders labeled in Ryder’s precise handwriting.
“They didn’t go for the liquor,” I say slowly. “They didn’t go for the stage. They went for paperwork.”
Leo nods once. “They aimed where it would hurt long term.”
“Reputation,” Karl adds.
“Licenses,” Jesse says.
“Stability,” Ryder finishes.
Aurora’s hand finds Finn’s sleeve, fingers curling into the fabric—she needs something solid. My chest tightens at that, not because she looks fragile, but because someone thought it was acceptable to put her in this position.
“They knew we’d wake up,” I say, the thought forming as I speak it. “The smell alone would drag anyone out of bed.”
“Which means they didn’t want it to spread,” Leo replies. “They wanted you to see it.”
My mind circles the same question over and over.
Was someone standing in the dark watching us rush out here?
Did they wait for the sirens?
Did they leave something else we haven’t seen yet?
Finn glances at the rooftop across the alley. “You think they stuck around?”
“Maybe,” Ryder answers. “Maybe not. But they knew response time would be quick. That wasn’t a gamble.”
Leo studies Ryder for a long second. “You got enemies we don’t know about?”
Ryder holds his gaze without flinching. “Nothing that’s supposed to be here.”
“That’s not the same thing,” Karl says quietly.
No one argues with him.
“You’ll want to file this,” Jesse says. “That way, if there’s another incident, it’s documented.”