Page 8 of The Hotshot’s Prize (Praise Me Like Fire #2)

Zack

The ridge smells like gasoline and tension.

Boots crunch over dry pine needles. Radios hiss static. There’s not much talking. Just the heavy, buzzing quiet of a team that knows what’s coming.

We’ve done all the prep. Mapped the line. Dug the trench. Cleared the debris. Every angle’s been checked and rechecked. The plan is simple—light a slow, controlled burn west of the Switchback Trail. Let it eat through the underbrush before nature has a chance to do it for us.

But the wind’s wrong.

Not dangerously wrong. Not yet. But it’s…inconsistent. Moody.

I glance at the sky, blue streaked with thin clouds, and check the handheld again. Nothing new. Conditions still read as “go.” But my gut’s twisting anyway.

“Everything okay?” Jonah asks, walking up beside me with his drip torch in hand.

I nod once. “Yeah. Just…watch the draw. Wind’s unpredictable. I don’t like the feel of it.”

“Copy that.”

He walks off, and I’m left staring into the woods, trying not to think about her.

Ella.

Her eyes. Her pretty smile and wry humor. Her body curled against mine like we’d known each other for years instead of hours. The way she looked at me, open, trusting, like I was worth more than a romp in the sack.

I didn’t ask for her number.

Didn’t even tell her how I felt.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

I tell myself it was the rush. The job. The call. I was distracted.

But the truth is simpler. More pathetic.

I was scared.

If I’m being honest with myself, I knew the second I saw Ella that she would change my life. And I was scared of what that might mean.

I’ve been trying to prove myself to my dead dad for so long, trying to be a hero like he was. Jumping into dangerous situations was my normal, but being with Ella made me want a new normal, for the first time. Made me want more. With her.

I’d give anything to rewind four hours to get the chance to tell her that.

The radio crackles. “Ignition point one ready.”

I snap back into gear. “Go for one.”

“Copy. Igniting now.”

Within minutes, a thin line of flame crawls along the forest floor, eating its way down the slope with deceptive grace. The smell thickens, smoke lifting lazily into the still air.

We move fast, fanning out, monitoring the spread. Everything’s going smooth, at first. The fire behaves. The ridge is holding.

But twenty minutes in, the wind shifts, becoming faster. More violent. Wrong.

A sharp downdraft barrels down the slope like a fist.

“Shit!” someone yells behind me.

I look up just in time to see a flurry of embers vault over the control line like firecrackers.

“Spot fire!”

I spin toward the radio. “We’ve got jump—west flank, about thirty yards out!”

The flames leap like they’ve been waiting for this moment. Dry brush lights up like paper.

“Go defensive! Pull crews back to safety zones. Now!”

Panic hums under my skin, but I push it down and move. I’m shouting directions, scanning for the closest crew, checking terrain—

Goddamn this slope—

Then I hear it.

“Zack!”

I turn just in time to see Carter, the team’s rookie, running toward a danger zone. Just as I try to yell for him to get his ass back, he slips and tumbles to the ground. He tries to get up, but his leg is caught on something. Maybe a root, maybe his own gear.

The fire’s faster than he is.

“Carter, move!” I bark.

“I can’t—I’m stuck!”

Without thinking, I’m on him. I shove through the smoke, leap the scorched brush, and reach for his pack harness.

“Don’t move. I’ve got you.”

Flames crackle way too close, my shirt sticking to my back with sweat. The air’s so hot it hurts to breathe. But I yank, and with a curse and a twist, Carter comes loose.

“Go! Get to the ridge—go now!”

He stumbles up the trail and I follow…or try to.

A burning branch snaps in front of me like a goddamn guillotine. I reel back. Another downdraft slams down the slope, hard enough to make me stagger.

The fire’s everywhere.

My escape route’s gone. My radio’s dead. The flames are circling, hunting for oxygen, and I’m the nearest thing breathing.

And suddenly I can’t hear anything but my own heartbeat.

Loud. Unforgiving.

This is it.

This is how it ends.

Just like my father. Trapped. Burned. Smoke in the lungs. Ash in the throat.

I’ve imagined this moment—Lord knows I’ve imagined it. Hell, sometimes I thought maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. A clean ending. Better than the dragging weight of grief and guilt.

But now, all I can think is No.

No.

I don’t want to die.

Not here. Not like this. Not with this empty ache in my chest and her name trapped in my throat.

I want to see her again. I need to tell her I’m sorry. That I should’ve asked for her number. Should’ve told her she makes me feel alive in a way nothing else ever has.

I want to kiss her when we’re both clean and safe and calm—not high on the adrenaline of an emergency situation.

I want to take her on a stupid, perfect date. Watch her roll her eyes at me. Learn what her laugh sounds like when she’s not holding back.

I want more.

God, I want more.

I drop to the ground, crawl under the dense brush, shield my face with my arm. I press the fire shelter release on my belt and pray I can get it out in time.

All around me, the world glows orange.

And somewhere in the middle of it, I make a promise to myself…if I live through this, I’m going to find her.

I don’t care how long it takes. I don’t care what it costs me—I will find her.

I hear a familiar voice shouting nearby.

Nate. The team leader.

Someone shouts back, but I can’t make out the words.

The wind screams over the ridge, carrying smoke like a blanket of poison. The fire’s no longer behaving, it’s consuming.

“We should leave,” someone calls out, closer now, their voice edged with urgency.

“Not without Zack!” Nate barks.

Flames lash at the treetops, and for a split second, it feels like the forest itself is turning on them. Then there’s movement, like someone’s sprinting in my direction.

I can hear them. I want to call out, but my throat is filled with smoke, my eyes burning like someone sealed them shut with goddamn lava.

After that, it’s a blur of fire and noise. And heat like a freight train screaming through the forest.

The next thing I know, Nate is calling my name from right above me, his voice piercing the haze in my head. “Zack! Jesus, man—come on!”

I try to lift my head. “Did we…stop it?”

“Not yet,” Ben mutters, hooking his arms under my shoulders. “We’re getting your stubborn ass out of here first.”

“And Carter?” I rasp, choking on smoke.

“Carter’s safe—he’s with medical,” Nate says, grabbing me by the shoulder. “Worry about yourself, man. You look half dead.”

They haul me up, supporting most of my weight, dragging me through heat and falling ash. My boots scrape against the charred ground, my legs mostly useless now. The air is thick, but they don’t stop moving.

We make it past the worst of it just as the flames leap into the spot we were standing seconds ago.

As the medics rush forward, I hear Nate panting, “Next time you try playing martyr, I’m duct-taping your ass to the truck.”

I would laugh, but everything hurts too much.

I feel my body being launched onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. The paramedics get to work, hooking me on machines and IV lines. My head feels like it’s been pressed down with lead, pain shooting through every part of my body. I taste metal. My vision swims.

A paramedic’s face comes into view—female, mid-thirties, brown ponytail.

“You’re lucky, Jenkins. Minutes more and you’d be toast. Literally.”

But my thoughts are somewhere else entirely.

Ella.

“I need…to get out of here,” I whisper, fingers clawing at the IV line in my arm.

“Sir, stop.” She grabs my wrist gently. “You’re in no condition to move.”

“No, you don’t understand. I—I left someone. I didn’t say—”

“You have second-degree burns on your hands, you’re severely dehydrated, and you’re on the edge of full respiratory failure. You’re not going anywhere.”

I yank at the wires anyway. One rips free. The machines beep furiously.

“Get me out—”

The oxygen mask falls from my face. I can barely sit up now, but I’m still trying. Desperation burns harder than the fire did.

“I need to see her…”

But the lights blur, and gravity wins. The stretcher fades beneath me as my mind spirals into nothingness.

Even as I black out, the last thought on my mind is her name.

Ella.