Page 107

Every muscle in my body locks.

We all go silent.

At first, all I hear is the roar of the fire. Then another sound reaches us through the smoke.

Coughing.

A woman's voice.

“Maggie,” I breathe.

“We hear you!” one of the firefighters shouts into the smoke.

I scramble over the remaining debris while two firefighters continue pulling away broken drywall and splintered beams.

“Maggie!” I shout.

Silence answers. Then, faintly through smoke and flames, I hear her.

“Alexei?”

Relief nearly drops me to my knees.

“I'm here!” I shout back. “Keep talking.”

Another coughing fit echoes through the corridor.

“Supply room!” Maggie calls weakly.

I follow her voice. The supply room door is partially blocked by collapsed shelving, but I can see movement through the opening.

Then I see her.

Maggie sits on the floor beside Jules with one arm wrapped around him. Soot covers her face. Her hair hangs loose around her shoulders, streaked black with ash. Both of them cough violently, and for an endless second, all I can do is stare.

She’s alive. Thank God.

The prayer moves silently through me with enough force to leave me unsteady.

“Maggie,” I say roughly.

Her head lifts slowly. Her head lifts slowly. The instant she sees me, emotions flood her soot-covered face.

“Alexei,” she whispers.

I cross the room in seconds and drop to my knees beside her. My hands move over her automatically, touching her face, her shoulders, her arms, reassuring myself that she’s alive and breathing.

“Kotyónok.” My voice sounds unfamiliar even to me. “Are you hurt?”

“I'm okay,” she says through another coughing fit before pointing toward Jules. “Help him first.”

Even now, frightened, exhausted, and struggling to breathe, her first thought is someone else.

Jules manages a weak smile. “Your timin’,” he rasps, “is honestly impeccable.”

I assess him automatically. Smoke inhalation. Possible head injury. Possible leg injury.

Alive.