Page 167 of Symphony for Lies

There was the sound of running, and I lifted my head just as Spencer skidded to a stop beside us, panting.

Rage boiled inside me.“Where the fuck have you been?!”

He staggered slightly, wiping blood from his brow. His forehead was split open, dripping deep red onto his face.“Got blindsided. Someone got me from behind. Knocked me out cold. But I got the son of a bitch.”

His eyes landed on Amelia, and all color drained from his face.

“Shit!” He crouched beside us, reaching for her. But I didn’t let go.“Medics should be here any second.” Gripping his head, his gaze darted toward the flames, watching as they swallowed the labyrinth whole.“What a fucking nightmare.”

The sky was painted red and orange, thick smoke curling into the air like a living, breathing beast. We didn’t even know the full extent of the explosion yet, but one thing was certain, the labyrinth was gone.

I heard a distant sound. Sirens. Gradually, they got louder.

“Can you stand?”

I nodded. It didn’t matter if my body was breaking and my muscles were screaming. Nothing mattered except getting Amelia out.

Her chest barely moved, and her lips were pale, almost blue.

“They’re here!” Spencer waved down the first responders.

Everything blurred.

The voices, the flashing lights, the movement, it was all nothing but noise.

I saw them, but I didn’t see them.

It was just her.

Hands tried to reach for her. “We need to move her now!” A paramedic.

Irrelevant.

I held her tighter.

“We need to save her.”

Yes.

Save her.

Her skin was getting colder.

They tried to take her from me. The world became motionless. Faint. Distorted voices. Urgent hands pulled her from my arms.

The moment she left my grasp, my chest felt empty. Like something had been ripped from me. As if my heart had been stolen.

I followed. Never letting go of her hand.

They laid her onto a stretcher.

“I’ll handle things here!” Spencer called, but I barely heard him.

I was already climbing into the ambulance. The inside was cold. Sterile. Lifeless.

The paramedics worked on her, hands moving in practiced urgency.

I wasn’t listening. I wasn’t watching them. Only her. Her hand was still in mine. So small. So cold. So fragile.