Page 57 of Rescued Dreams

“Go!”

Amelia got her gear on and raced up the stairs. She wanted to kick the door open, but that would cost her crucial seconds. Who knew what surprises they had in store for her? Not walls in different places or rescue dummies to trip over, but there were some tricks they could implement.

She kept her head and scanned the space.

“Fire department! Call out if you can hear me!”

The thick smoke in the air had a blue-gray tint to it now, which could be part of the new problem they were likely cooking up for her. Literally. That color smoke usually meant burning oil, and they generally only saw it in old houses, car accident fires, or in a garage.

Another thing she didn’t need to be distracted by.

Search the house, every room, and get out the far side. If she came across anyone, she would “rescue” them along the way.

She moved quickly but as steady as she could and didn’t waste time in the room where she thought she’d spotted someone.

There was no one there.

Just as she’d?—

Grasping hands tore the radio from the front of her turnout coat. She swung out at whoever had grabbed it, but no one was there.

Her mask was torn off, dragging her forward with it. She bent, but he didn’t let up. She gasped and inhaled the thick gray air.Can’t breathe.

He shoved her back against the wall. At least, she assumed it was a guy. She couldn’t see him but got the sense that he was taller and more powerful than her, and she was quickly overwhelmed.

A split second later, strong hands grabbed her around the neck. With all the gear she had on, it was her only vulnerable spot. The break in the collar at her throat, bare skin. The neck of her jacket and the bottom of her helmet, which had gone flying. She was exposed, and he knew exactly how to target her.

When. Where.

He’d ensured no one knew she was in danger in the training house. So close to the rest of the fire crew, showing up for their shift.

She grabbed her attacker’s arms and called for help the only way she could—by yelling. “Izan!”

Her attacker squeezed her throat.

The radio was too far, torn off her. Probably broken. There was no way Izan could even hear her right now. No one was going to come and help her. She had to get out of this situation herself.

Amelia tried to get air. She couldn’t peel his arms off her throat. His grip was too tight.

She couldn’t see his face, not clearly. It looked like he had a mask on—something to protect his lungs from the choking air in here. The smoke had thickened until she could barely see her hand in front of her face. Or his face in front of hers.

His fingers tightened on her throat.

I’m going to die.

Amelia slammed her gloved hands against him and fought for her life. When he didn’t let go, she tightened her grip on his arms, shifted her weight, and brought her knee up. She wasn’t going to hit any planned target, but kneeing him anywhere at all was going to hurt. She was pretty sure she managed to catch him in the stomach.

He backed up his hips, hopefully surprised and injured. Trying to get out of reach of the next swing of her knee. But he didn’t let go of her neck, so she didn’t let go of his arms. There was no way she would go down without a fight.

His grip on her neck started to loosen. She didn’t have much time before he rallied, maybe a second at most. Enough time to kick him again, twice in quick succession. She put all of her strength into the double swing of her knee. Hard as she could.

Finally his hands fell away. She shoved at him, ramming him back, and ran for where she thought the door was.Turnabout’s fair play, buddy.He slammed against the wall.

But she wasn’t sticking around, breathing in this toxic air, just to finish him off.

Amelia hit a wall, traced it to the end, and found a door. Her head swam. Each inhale was a desperate gasp for air. She nearly collapsed, the hallway beyond it long and clouded to obscurity. “Help.” The word was barely audible.

She had to get out of here before she succumbed, because they had no idea she was down.