Page 218 of Merciless Daddy

Nobody moved calmly.

Smoke curled beneath the far door of the legal suite.

“Electrical fire on the loading level,” one of Sal’s guards said into his earpiece.

Sal’s arm came around me at once.

“Stay against me.”

Angela grabbed her file case. “The stairwell?”

“Protected stairwell,” Sal said. “Now.”

We moved fast through the corridor. Office workers spilled from glass doors, coughing, carrying coats, staring at the smoke as if it might explain itself.

I stayed pressed to Sal’s side. His hand held the back of my neck. Not forcing. Anchoring.

“Keep going,” he said and I stepped out in front, surging forward.

The protected stairwell waited at the end of the hall. We were ten feet away when the fire doors dropped. Steel slammed down between us. The sound shook the floor.

Sal’s hand was ripped from mine.

We were separated.

“No!”

I hit the barrier with both palms.

On the other side, Sal had already turned. His fist drove into the reinforced door once. Twice.

He looked at me, fear in his eyes.

“Yelena!”

“I’m here!”

The guards pulled me back from the door as smoke thickened in the corridor.

Angela stood beside me, pale but upright.

“Emergency access?” I asked.

“One minute,” a guard said. “Maybe two.”

Sal hit the door again.

“Take the service corridor,” he shouted through the steel. “Do not let anyone separate the two of you.”

Then men in firefighter gear came around the corner.

Three of them. Black turnout coats. Breathing masks. Emergency credentials clipped to their chests.

One guard moved toward them.

“Stairwell is sealed,” he said. “We need—”

I saw the nearest firefighter’s mask. The hose ran wrong. Not connected properly. Loose at the side where it should have sealed.