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Dalton almost pitied the guy. Glenn didn’t know what was in store for him.
Dalton gave Dallas a nod, jogging back to the fire truck. No words were needed to be said between them. They were close, and their bond strong. Dallas being here was a show of his love. They always supported each other.
Dalton opened a compartment on the side and found the other suit and gear. He dressed in record time. He grabbed the helmet and slammed it down on his head.
He had to save Anya.
He secured his SCBA to his back. Seeing an ax hanging in another open compartment, he snagged that just in case he had to force his way in.
Dalton stalked toward the building. The smoke.
“McNeil, where are you going?” Knox ran over to him with confusion on his face.
“This is Anya’s apartment building. I have reason to believe that she’s in there.” He pointed.
Two of his men were on the ladder, spraying water into the second-floor hallway through a busted open window.
“What? Are you sure?”
“No, but I have to check,” he growled.
“I’m coming with you,” Knox declared, falling in place with Dalton. He turned and shouted to the other firemen, announcing they were going in.
Dalton secured his breathing mask to his face and entered the burning building.
All in a day’s work, my ass.
Earlier that day, it had been to save his friend. Now it was to rescue his woman.
The only thing he knew about her place was that she had a second-floor apartment. She had spoken about finding a quiet little place to stay that she loved.
He carefully trudged up the staircase with Knox trailing behind him. Water ran down the stairs, making it harder for them to get up. Dalton gripped the ax in his hand tight.
He breathed in deep, taking in the fresh oxygen.
They made it to the top. There were four units on this floor. Which one was Anya’s? From the flame pattern, Dalton instantly knew which one was hers.
He waved his hand to motion for Knox to follow him. The smoke was thick, and the flames were still going. The water had only caused the fire to smolder. It was starting to pick back up at the farthest apartment door.
That had to be Anya’s.
They arrived at the door, and it was locked. Dalton knew the ax would be handy. He glanced over at Knox, who backed up, waiting for Dalton to break through the door.
Dalton swung the ax. It cracked the weak door of the apartment. He hit a few more times, and the wood finally splintered. Once the door was open, he and Knox had to jump away due to the backdraft.
Flames shot out of the apartment, reaching the ceiling.
Please let her be okay.
Within seconds the flames died down. Dalton stepped through the doorway and took in the small area filled with smoke and fire. The living room was totally lost. The couch and recliner were engulfed in orange.
He snatched off his mask. “Anya!” he yelled.
His lungs immediately burned from the smoke. He stumbled through the small apartment, leaving Knox. She was nowhere to be found. He headed down the hallway to what he assumed was the bedroom. The doorframe was burning bright, as was the ceiling and parts of the floor.
He froze in the doorway at the sight before him. Anya was hunched on her bed with her arms twisted around, locked to the railing by handcuffs. The fire was closing in on her bed.
“Shit!” Dalton rushed over to her. He tried stomping on the flames to put them out, but the carpet was igniting around them.
