Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 36019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36019 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 180(@200wpm)___ 144(@250wpm)___ 120(@300wpm)
Bodie spun to his men. “New orders—follow the man with the death stare. He says jump, you ask how high, midair.”
That got me a few side-eyes from any guys I didn’t recognize, but no one argued.
Satisfied, I nodded. I didn’t have time for explanations or any other bullshit. I was already moving as I grabbed the pair of gloves Bodie was holding out and snapped them on. I barked out instructions—starting with the hoses to suppress the smoke and ash that was clogging the air, obstructing our vision and making it difficult to breathe. “Need two crews to start stabilizing the corner frame, another two on standby with portable jacks.”
I knew where she’d entered, thanks to the witness. That narrowed the search zone.
But every second ticked louder. My heart pounded in fear and anticipation.
Inside the structure, the light was uneven—blinding shafts of sun cut through broken levels, but everything else was dipped in shadow. Dust choked the air, settling on my cut, sticking to the sweat already gathering at the base of my neck. The whole damn place felt like a fucking coffin with the lid just waiting to be slammed closed. Steel twisted overhead, groaning as it settled.
I didn’t flinch. I’d worked in tighter, hotter, and more fucked-up conditions.
Didn’t mean I wasn’t silently flipping my shit.
She was in here somewhere. And I had no idea if I would be able to find her in time. I could already be too late.
Just like—No. Not fucking going there. Not now.
“Talk to me,” I barked to the nearest firefighter.
“There could be a partial void in the northeast stairwell. A small air pocket. If she got there in time, she might…” He broke off when he clocked my thunderous expression. “We found a break in the lower slab, could be that the area would be accessible through it.”
“Show me.”
Best-case scenario was getting to Peyton without additional explosives. I was the fucking best at my job, but there was always an added risk, and I couldn’t stomach the idea of putting Peyton in any more danger.
He led the way, and I followed, every step heavier than the last. We ran into crumbled concrete and jagged rebar, creating a wall.
“Fuck,” the guy muttered. “The place is still deteriorating.”
Even with the level of this explosion, the building shouldn’t have been falling apart this fast and with such extensive damage. I filed that away to examine after I got Peyton to safety.
Another firefighter appeared with a K12 saw and handed it to me. Carefully, I cleared the wall, and my flashlight swept the interior as we climbed through the opening.
“There.” I pointed at a narrow gap between support beams.
And then I heard a voice—tired and scared, but still somehow sexy as hell. For fuck’s sake, Wrecker. Get your head in the fucking game!
Following the sound as we called back and forth, I finally saw movement.
Barely visible. But it was there.
A flicker of a hand. A glint of something metallic—phone maybe. Tapping.
Smart girl.
She was giving me a precise location so I was careful not to clear the debris in the wrong spot and cause her little nook to cave in. I felt a streak of pride when I realized she’d braced herself in the doorframe.
“Found her,” I shouted, dropping to my knees.
There was slight movement again, then my eyes locked with hers, and feelings I didn’t recognize slammed into me. Knowing I didn’t have time to dwell on that shit, I broke our gazes and began barking orders. “We need to clear this section over here, then I’ll be able to wedge through.”
Several hands joined me, and I directed which pieces of the wreckage needed to be cleared out of our path. As we moved the steel and concrete, my scowl intensified at the evidence that pointed at low-grade materials that should have been caught during inspection. Something was definitely off, but my focus needed to be on the rescue.
It wasn’t long before the opening was big enough for me to scrape through. “Gotta bring her back up,” I called. “Get me a ladder and a wider exit.”
My elbows ground against the debris and the fine grime that coated everything, even my throat and lungs.
When my boots thumped on the ground, I swept out my flashlight once more, and the beam of my light hit her face.
Peyton.
She looked like an angel dragged through hell. Blood streaked across one temple, her curls were wild and matted, and gray powder coated her, even her lashes. Slumped in the stairwell frame, she was wedged tight, one arm looped over her ribs like she’d been trying to protect herself.
Her chest was rising—barely.
I got to her seconds before she sagged into unconsciousness. My arm shot out, bracing her head from the jagged metal behind her. My heart thundered so loud, I couldn’t hear the rest of the crew anymore.