Page 18 of Fire Fight

“You’re okay, honey. You were in a f-fire.” She choked on the last word.

My heart stopped, then shattered.

Oh, not again.

Without thinking, I reached for her, but my progress was stalled by the IV plugged into the back of my hand. Forlornly, I let it drop to the bed at my side, but Mom reached for it anyway, clasping me so tightly it hurt, tugging at the needle buried in my vein. I winced, but didn’t let go.

The pain reminded me I was here, still breathing.

Reminded me that my parents hadn’t lost their only remaining child—in the same way they’d lost the other one, no less.

My dad appeared behind Mom a moment later. His expression was…haggard, his normally clean-shaven face sporting prickly silver stubble. His skin sagged, and dark circles had taken up residence under his eyes. Warm brown hair, the same shade as mine, was limp and greasy. Mom looked much the same. Worn out and in dire need of some self-care.

Both of them had tears in their eyes, which swam with fear and pain and heartbreak.

Fuck. I hated that I was the reason for them.

“What happened?” I croaked. My throat was ravaged, and I had distant memories of screaming until I was convinced my lungs were bleeding.

I squeezed my eyes shut once more, hoping to stave off the onslaught of images that assaulted me.

Bindings on my wrists and ankles.

A windowless room and a cold concrete floor.

Gnawing hunger pains in my stomach.

Flames and heat.

Searing pain along my side.

Begging for anyone to save me.

And finally, an amorphous mass approaching me through the blaze, and gentle words in a gruff voice soothing me as best as they could, assuring me I’d be okay.

I was grateful the owner of that voice had kept that promise, because I was alive, and that was good enough for now.

“Ah, Miss McKay,” someone said from the doorway, and I whipped my head in that direction, wincing as the sudden movement made my brain throb again. “Good to see you awake and alert.”

It took a moment for my vision to clear, but when it did, I found a man standing there in a white doctor’s coat with a clipboard in hand.

“What happened?” I asked again. “How long have I been here?” My panic rose the longer I went without answers.

This wasn’t the first time I’d been injured on the job, but it was the first time things had felt so…bleak.

The doctor approached my bedside, his smile wide and welcoming if unnaturally white. He had warm brown eyes and dark hair that was more grey than brunette.

“You were in an accident last night.”

I scoffed, or tried to, but it really came out as more of a choking sob.An accidentwas a…diplomatic and polite way of putting it.

“What day is it?”

“Sunday morning.”

Okay, that eased some of my panic. Good to know I hadn’t been unconscious for an extended period of time. I’d been at the bar on Friday night, which meant that fucker had held me captive for an entire day before leaving me in that building to die. My memory was so goddamn foggy, I was having difficulty remembering anything but flashes of the last thirty-six hours.

When I didn’t respond, my mother asked, “What’s the prognosis?”