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“Go!” Her voice was low and ended on a shriek. Her face was stained with tears. Even in the low light, he could see her face was darkened on the side.
Rage grew in his chest that someone could do this to Anya.
“I got you, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” Unable to resist, he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her forehead. He glanced down at her wrists, bound together by handcuffs attached to the railing. His gaze flickered to hers. “Do you trust me?”
She jerked her head in a nod.
He’d have to use the ax to get her free. One wrong move and he could possibly cut her, or worse, amputate a hand.
A coughing fit took him. He put on his mask and inhaled in a few deep breaths.
Anya coughed. Her head lowered to the mattress, and he knew he would have to work quick. She wouldn’t have much longer. He had to get her out into fresh air so she could breathe properly.
He glanced around and didn’t see any sign of Knox.
“Hold still,” Dalton shouted.
Anya’s head barely moved. Her arms were outstretched, leaving just enough room for the ax to hit.
Dalton tried to will his racing heart to slow down. He could do this. He swung the ax back, dropping it on the chains. The handcuffs were no match for his blade. Her hands immediately separated.
“Anya!” he shouted.
She didn’t respond. His heart seemed to leap into his throat as he tossed the ax down to the floor. He gently turned her over. He tore off his mask and placed it over her face. “Breathe, baby. Just breathe. When you take a deep breath, it will release oxygen to you.” He rubbed her hair, trying to get her to use his air pack. Her chest rose and fell several times, satisfying him.
Anya’s eyes fluttered open, slowly shutting again. In the darkness highlighted by the flames, he knew right then this was the woman for him.
“Let’s get you out of here.”
Beep… Beep… Beep.
The constant sound echoed in Anya’s mind. She struggled to break free of the comforting darkness.
Beep… Beep… Beep…
It took some work, but finally, her eyes opened. She blinked a few times, and her vision adjusted. A bright light flowed into her right. A window with open blinds was the culprit that helped bring her out of her cozy abyss.
Her gaze landed on her arm. She lifted it and took in the hospital band.
Her body jerked forward.
Where am I?
Fire.
Dalton appearing like a knight in shining armor in her bedroom.
Her gaze swept the room while she settled back against the pillows.
Hospital. An IV pole with fluids stood beside her bed, and a monitor above her head displayed numbers and lines streaming across the screen. Tubing rested beneath her nose, and she sensed a slight breeze of air flowing into her nostrils.
A figure sat slouched in an uncomfortable position in the chair next to her bed.
Dalton.
She felt a little loopy and didn’t know if she had received some kind of drug, or whether it was from all the smoke she had inhaled.
Anya opened her mouth to wake Dalton, but no sound poured out. Her throat was dry and painful. Her leg slid across the bed as she tried to reach forward for the cup of water that sat on the bedside table.
