Page 66 of Down Knot Out (Pack Alphas of Misty Pines #3)

Chapter Forty-Four

Chloe

S moke crawls through the living room toward us, and I freeze in the hallway, not sure what to do.

“Get Quinn!” Dominic starts pounding on doors. “Fire! The north side is burning! Everyone out!”

I stumble forward, while behind me, doors bang open. Holden emerges in boxer shorts, curls sticking up in every direction as he stares in shocked confusion at the smoke now in the hallway.

Quinn’s door is shut tight, and when I push inside, I’m relieved to find her room still clear of smoke, though the air carries a bitter tang.

“Quinn!” I rush to her bed. “Quinn, princess, wake up. ”

She stirs, rubbing away sleep with tiny fists. “Aunt Chloe?”

“We need to go.” I strip back her blankets. “The house is on fire.”

Fear flashes across her face. “Fire?”

I scoop her into my arms, and she clings to me, arms wrapping around my neck and legs around my waist.

“Cover your mouth with your sleeve.” I help her position her arm across her face. “And close your eyes if they hurt.”

In the minutes since I entered Quinn’s room, the hallway has filled with thick, black smoke, and I tell myself I’m only imagining that the floorboards feel warm beneath my bare feet.

Quinn whimpers, her breath coming in quick, frightened gasps.

“Hold tight,” I whisper into her hair. “I’ve got you.”

Blake appears through the haze, dressed only in his boxers, his hair wild around his face and a towel wrapped around his nose and mouth.

“I’ve got her.” As he scoops the little girl from my arms, her pink nightgown balloons around her legs. “Go out through the garage.”

“Why aren’t the sprinklers coming on?” I tilt my face up toward the fixtures, but I can’t see the ceiling.

Blake shakes his head. “There’s no water. Holden’s gone to check the shutoff valve.”

My stomach sinks. “What about Grady? He’s still downstairs!”

“Dominic’s gone to wake him.” He shoves me toward the door. “Go!”

As I stumble away, the sprinkler system finally kicks on with a groan and a metallic hiss.

Water blasts from the ceiling, soaking me to the skin in seconds.

The shock of it steals my breath, but relief follows.

It’s too late to stop all the damage, but hopefully it’s enough to put out the fire, and the Homestead can be saved.

We move toward Dominic’s office, Blake’s free hand around mine pulling me forward. We pass Nathaniel emerging from the hall closet, arms full of emergency supplies.

The office door seals behind us, and for a second, the world stills. There’s less smoke in the office, the solid, airtight door having kept out the worst of it.

The staircase creaks beneath our weight, water dripping from our soaked clothes. Each step sends pain shooting through my bare feet as the rough wood scrapes my bare soles. I grit my teeth, focusing only on getting to safety.

We stumble outside, and the sudden chill raises goosebumps on my arms. I gasp in the night air, sweet and clean despite the smoke billowing around us. Holden leads us away from the house to where Dominic and Grady wait, soot-streaked but alive.

Blake lowers Quinn to the ground, and she turns to cling to me, coughing and crying. I sink to my knees, holding her tight, my body shaking with cold, relief, and terror as I stare at the Homestead.

Smoke billows out of the north wing’s shattered windows, but the fire hasn’t spread farther. Flames roar through the guest rooms and attic, licking toward the roof, but the central structure remains standing. For now.

Dominic looks around. “Everyone out?”

I count heads. “We’re missing Holden?—”

I cut off as he jogs around from the side of the garage. “Water’s back. I opened the main valve. The sprinklers should hold it in the east wing.”

“Wait!” Quinn pulls away from me. “Where’s Sprinkles?”

Blake curses, spinning toward the house. “Did anyone get him out of his room?”

No one answers, and my heart plummets as I scan the yard, hoping to see the giant Newfoundland somewhere in the shadows.

Quinn lifts her tear-stained face to Blake. “Sprinkles is still inside?”

Horror cuts through me, and I hug her closer, unable to form words of comfort.

Holden’s face sets in grim determination. Without a word, he turns back toward the burning house.

“Holden, no!” I reach for him, but he’s already moving, sprinting back through the open door into the wall of smoke and flame.

“Holden!” I scream, lurching forward with Quinn still clutched in my arms.

Dominic’s arms lock around my waist, pulling me back from the blazing doorway. The heat radiates in waves, blistering hot even from yards away.

“He can’t go back in there!” I scream.

“Stay here.” Dominic’s grip remains unyielding. “You can’t help him with Quinn.”

Quinn sobs into my neck, her tears leaving cool tracks on my smoke-stained skin. I stumble backward as Dominic guides us away from the house, my bare feet crunching over gravel.

“Sprinkles,” Quinn cries, her voice muffled by my shoulder. “He’s scared of fire. ”

The heat surges even from here, waves of it pulsing off the siding, the air shimmering. Quinn sobs in my arms.

“He’ll find Sprinkles.” I stroke her hair, trying to convince myself as much as her. “He will.”

The house groans. A section of the roof over the north wing slumps inward with a crash, sending sparks into the air. The sprinklers continue spraying, keeping the central and southern parts of the Homestead damp. Water hisses where it hits glowing embers.

Blake and Nathaniel sprint across the lawn toward the maintenance shed, calling back about getting hoses and extinguishers as they disappear into the shadows.

“We need to move farther back.” Dominic’s hand at the small of my back guides me toward the tree line. “The propane tank could blow.”

The reality of those words slices through me. Holden is still inside. My legs falter, but Dominic steadies me with a firm grip.

“He’ll find a way out,” he says, reading the terror on my face. “Holden knows what he’s doing.”

Grady shuffles after us, his cane nowhere in sight as he clutches a first aid kit in his arms. His blond hair sticks up in all directions, face pale in the firelight.

He shakes out a blanket and wraps it around my shoulders, careful not to disturb Quinn’s grip on me, and offers a water bottle. “Here. Small sips.”

I take it with trembling fingers and help Quinn drink first. She coughs after each swallow, her small body still shaking.

“The fire department?” I scan the dark road that leads to the dock.

“Called them.” Dominic clutches a phone in his hand. “ETA fifteen minutes. Nathaniel called Sheriff Miller, too. Someone shut off our water supply before setting this fire.”

“Quinn needs air,” Grady murmurs. “You all do.”

I sink onto the damp grass, clutching her to me. Her breaths are uneven, but she’s awake and alert.

Blake and Nathaniel return, dragging lengths of hose from the shed, their faces grim as they take in the deteriorating structure.

“We can’t do much for the fire here.” Blake’s hands clench with anger. “But we can put out any more fires that start.”

Nathaniel drops the hose and moves to my side, his hand finding mine. “Any sign of Holden? ”

I shake my head, unable to speak past the knot in my throat.

An anxious whine escapes Quinn. “What if Uncle Holden can’t find Sprinkles? He always hides when there’s thunder.”

“I know, princess.” I hold her close. “Holden knows that, too.”

Seconds stretch, and the fire groans, crackles, shifts.

More of the roof gives way, but not all of it.

The damage is contained mostly to the north wing.

Smoke blackens the beams, and windows burst in showers of glass.

But the fire isn’t jumping. The sprinklers and soaked structure are holding the line.

“The propane tank.” Grady pulls me back to my feet and moves us another ten feet back. “We’re too close if it blows.”

I resist, unable to turn away from the door where Holden disappeared. “We can’t leave him.”

“We’re not leaving anyone,” Dominic says, his hand trembling on my back. “But we need to stay safe for him to find us.”

Quinn lifts her head from my shoulder, tear tracks on her cheeks. “Uncle Holden will find Sprinkles, right?” Her lip wobbles. “They’ll come back?”

The question hangs in the air between us. I meet Dominic’s gaze over her head, fear thrumming through our bond.

“Your Uncle Holden is very brave.” I stroke her tangled hair. “He’ll do everything he can.”

A crash from inside the house draws our attention, and my heart lurches. Each sound measures the passing seconds that Holden remains inside.

Dominic steps away to help Blake connect the hose to the spigot near the garden, and they work to wet the ground and trees around the Homestead, putting out sparks. We’re lucky it’s not a windy night.

Closing my eyes, I ignore the dancing red light painted across my eyelids as I focus on my pack bonds. If Holden were hurt, I would know, right?

“What’s that?” Quinn asks, and my eyes snap open to see her pointing at the front of the house.

I squint through the smoke, heart leaping as a dark shape emerges from the front door. Holden staggers onto the porch, a large, black shape cradled in his arms.

Sprinkles.

“There!” I cry. “He’s got him!”

Holden stumbles down the steps, face streaked with soot, hair singed at the edges. He stumbles halfway across the yard before his legs give out, and he falls to his knees, still clutching the motionless dog.

Blake rushes to him, Dominic close behind. They help him to his feet, supporting his weight as they half-carry him toward us. Sprinkles hangs limp in his arms, and fear grips my heart anew.

“Get away from the house,” Holden croaks as they reach us. “Kitchen’s going to blow. Gas leak… Line was broken. Smelled it before I hit the hall.”

Nathaniel grabs my elbow, pulling me backward. “We need to get back! Now!”

I stumble along, watching over my shoulder as Blake takes Sprinkles from Holden’s arms. The dog’s chest rises and falls with shallow breaths.

“He’s alive,” Blake confirms. “But we need to get him oxygen.”

Relief floods through me, and my knees weaken.

Quinn wriggles in my arms, trying to see Sprinkles for herself. “He’s okay?”

“He will be,” I promise, though my heart still races with fear.

Just as we reach the edge of the path, a sharp crack sounds, and the kitchen windows blow out in a burst of fire and pressure.

The blast knocks me off my feet. I twist, turning my body to shield Quinn as we crash to the grass. Glass rains down, embers scattering.

It’s not a full propane tank rupture, rather a blowout from a concentrated leak, but it’s enough to make the others drop and cover.

The fire flares again, racing up the kitchen walls, smoke billowing high. But the walls don’t fall. The structure groans, then holds.

I scramble to my feet, shaking, soaking, and heart pounding as I clutch Quinn.

“We need to make sure the fire doesn’t spread,” Dominic shouts to Blake.

They scramble for their hoses and fire extinguishers to put out the thrown embers, while in the distance, the whump of a helicopter sounds, growing closer with each second, and floodlights sweep over the water.

“Help’s coming!” Relieved, Grady shuffles farther down the path as he waves toward the beams of light.

As I take a shaky step to follow him, the air shifts behind me, and a hand clamps over my mouth, filling my nose with the sharp stink of gasoline.

As an arm locks around my waist, I try to scream, but the sound comes out muffled. Quinn shrieks, but the roar of fire and the helicopter drown out her cry as we’re dragged into the dark.