13
SYVANNAH
The heat hits like a punch to the stomach. One second, the night is quiet, Tiny’s breath still warm on my neck, the next, it’s chaos. The screaming doesn’t stop, it multiplies. Then the crackle and hiss, the roar of something that’s not supposed to burn.
The air changes before I even smell smoke. It thickens, like the world’s holding its breath. My lungs seize before my mind can name it. Then the sound hits, metal warping, glass shattering, the low, animalistic roar of the fire feeding itself. For half a heartbeat, I’m back in the dark, locked in a room with no clean air and no way out.
“Tiny!” I choke out, already reaching for him as smoke pours through the door.
He’s halfway dressed, eyes blazing in the firelight. “Stay behind me.”
“No!” I refuse to be weak.
Tiny grabs my wrists before I can argue further, his iron grip doesn’t ask for permission, it protects. “Now.”
The smoke crawls down my throat, hot and alive. I yank my shirt over my head, shimmy into my jeans. Every movement isclumsy in the panic. The room screams. Sparks rain from the ceiling.
A high-pitched roar that shreds through the air like metal being torn in half. It fills my ears, my throat, my lungs before the smoke ever does.
One second, Tiny’s body is over mine, shielding me from the blast behind us. Next, the entire garage becomes a living thing made of flame, heat, and fury.
“Move, Syv!” he shouts, grabbing my waist and hauling me upright.
My legs don’t work at first. The floor is hot, and the smoke hits me like a slap, thick and choking. My lungs seize.
“I can’t,” I choke out. The heat steals the tears before they can fall.
“Yes, you can.” Tiny’s voice isn’t gentle now. It’s deadly. Focused. Terrified. “Stay with me, Baby Girl.”
He shoves his sweatshirt over my mouth and nose, then pushes me ahead of him toward the one corner not engulfed in hellfire. Burning metal rains from above. Sizzling bolts, blackened shards of the roof, chunks of melted wiring.
Another explosion rocks the wall where we’d just been. The workbench, the tools, and the place where we’d just been wrapped together are gone. Burning. Devoured.
My heart slams against my ribs.
“Don’t look!” Tiny barks, dragging me forward as the ceiling groans, bending inward like some giant hand is crushing the building. His body stays between me and the flames, shield and shelter and salvation.
I see the entire left side of the garage collapsing, swallowing his tool chest, the bikes, and the memories. The life he built with his own hands.
“TINY!” I scream as a beam crashes down behind him.
He pushes me against the far wall, bracing his arms on either side of me as burning debris slams into his back. The impact jerks his body forward, but he doesn’t make a sound.
“Ethan.” I sob.
“I’m okay,” he lies. His jaw is clenched so tight the muscles jump. “Door’s blocked. We need to go out the side.”
The side door is ten feet away, but it might as well feel like a lifetime. Smoke curls under the beams overhead, thick as tar. My head swims and my throat burns.
Tiny grabs my chin, forcing my eyes to meet his. “Stay awake. Stay with me. You hear me?”
I nod. Or maybe I just think I nod. My body trembles, heat scorching my skin even from yards away.
Tiny lifts me. He literally picks me up like I weigh nothing, and turns his back to the fire as we move. His breath is ragged. His muscles strain. I can feel them shaking under my palms.
“T-Tiny… your back…”
“Worry about breathing,” he grits out.