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We toss it to the floor. Debris begins to rain down. Valentina cries out as a piece of the ceiling smacks her in the back.

I throw myself around her as it rains down on us.

“I don't know if we're going to get out,” she says beneath me. “I don't know how we can.”

Bronwyn's safe. That's what matters right now. We'll find a way. “Come here.” I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her, a tiny sanctuary in this hellish dark. “You were brave,” I whisper in her ear. “So brave. I'm so proud of you. Look how far you've come.”

“Don't talk like this is the end, Torin. It can't be.”

It might be. “If it is, I'll die a happy man.”

Her brow scrunches as I grasp her face in my hands and kiss her forehead fiercely. Soot gathers on her cheeks. “Why?” she whispers. “Why would you die happy?”

“Because I knew what it was like to love somebody.”

And then, for the first time, she lets herself go. She buries her head in my chest and sniffs. “I know,” she says, her voice wobbling. “Me too.”

Our hands find each other in the darkness, our fingers entwining. It's getting harder to breathe. She's gasping for air, and so am I. If we die, they'll find us like this, holding on to each other.

“They were coming for you,” she whispers. “Before you shot him. He told me they were looking for you.”

“Well, they aren't getting me any more than they're getting you,” I promise. “I will fight until I take my last breath.”

“I will too. There has to be another way,” she says. “Look.” She points to a small triangle of bright light. “The wall's torn.”

I’m on my feet. Smoke fills my lungs, and my eyes burn as tears stream down my face. But I push through. Right where the beam fell, it splintered, leaving a small opening. I kick at it with my foot, over and over, until it collapses and gives way, and bright light streams through.

“I found them!” someone shouts from outside.

“Here.” I reach for Valentina's hand and drag her to me. “That's a good girl. Just like that,” I tell her.

“I've got them. They're here!” Strong hands are pulling us out. “Come on. Take her first.” I push her forward. We have so little time if this fucking roof collapses. We fall to the ground together.

I look up to see Uncle Cormac finding us in the dark. “Thank god.” He exhales. “We've recovered your mam and da. Come on. Bronwyn's in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.”

“And Seamus?”

“He's in the hospital as well. Took a hit and will wear a patch on his eye for some time, but he’ll live. Let's get you two checked.”

We're rushed to the paramedics, leaving the firefighters hard at work putting out what’s left of the east wing.

“How's Da?” I ask Uncle Cormac.

“He’s alright,” he says, but he doesn’t meet my eyes.

We ride together in the ambulance. My mind is racing.

The hospital waiting room smells of antiseptic and too many people in too small a space. Someone's found a blanket for me. I don't remember putting it on. Bronwyn's on the other side of the double doors. Smoke inhalation, lacerations, and possible concussion. The paramedic rattled off the list, and I have a similar one for myself.

Where are they? Who's watching?

Kyla arrived with Nolan twenty minutes ago, still in her nightclothes, her face a careful blank. She hasn't sat down once. She's standing at the window, her arms crossed over her chest, watching the car park. “Mam and Da are both fine,” she begins. “Uncle Cormac is in the corridor with two guards I don't know, speaking in a voice too low to carry.”

He hasn't looked at me since we arrived, but he's determined to talk to Declan.

Valentina is next to me, holding my phone.

“Look,” she says, showing me the phone. “It’s an American news article. You need to see this.”