At least Gwen would be safe. She wasn’t here, and Brad would care for her. If Ian couldn’t see them again... he would miss them. Gwen, with how she’d always been there, how she’d always loved him. And Brad...
Ian wanted to touch his alpha again, just one more time. To say I’m sorry, and I love you. But it was too late, wasn’t it?
In the distance, the siren of a fire engine wailed. Ian pressed himself beneath the window. If the flames got any worse, if there was no other choice...
He would jump out through the window, and hope for the best.
30
Brad
“Those apartments should’ve been pulled down a decade ago,” Harris muttered beside Brad, barely audible above the siren. “Seems like the only code they aren’t flouting is the one that keeps the building upright.”
Brad kept silent. He’d learned his lesson. Wasn’t going to get distracted by anything else on the road. All he needed was to get the truck to the scene, and go save some lives. Whether the apartments met building safety codes... that was out of his control.
Still, it didn’t help when he pulled the truck up in front of the Fernleaf apartments, and half the building was swallowed in flames, thick smoke rising into the inky sky. Which landlord would allow this to happen?
Residents were leaping out of the second-story apartments, some crumpling onto the ground. Those who managed to escape had crowded around the building, their faces lit orange by the flames.
Then there were the people on the third story, some silhouettes by the windows, trapped in their apartments.
Brad swore. He parked the truck as close as he could, then extended the ladder. “I’m heading up with Roger,” he told Harris.
Harris nodded, his shrewd eyes taking stock of their men, the other station trucks pulling up, and the situation at hand. He was good at that. Brad left his team leader, strapping on his oxygen tank and mask.
He climbed the truck, then the ladder. Needed to focus on not slipping, and getting in and out in one piece so he could do his job.
Below, the other firefighters were striding into the building, some already carrying out limp residents. Roger climbed through the first window; Brad took the second. He pushed through the thick smoke, found a prone figure on the floor. It was a woman—small, in her twenties.
He scooped her up, balanced her across his shoulders, and strode back to the window, listening to Harris’ commands on the radio.
Cole had climbed the ladder to back them up. He took Roger’s evacuee, and when Roger climbed onto the ladder and moved it across to Brad’s window, Brad handed him the woman. Roger carried her down the ladder; Brad moved the ladder to the third window, where a child hung halfway out.
There was at least a person at every window this floor, and Brad could see the fear and desperation in their eyes.
Beyond them, at the last window, another face poked out.
Pale hair, thin face, frightened eyes that Brad knew too well.
Ian.
Brad’s stomach dropped.
Ian had soot in his hair, and he was lit from behind by the fire in his apartment.
Between them, there were another four windows, four people to rescue. How long until I can reach you?
His heart racing now, Brad scooped the child into his arms. There was no way he could turn around to hand the child over; he climbed down the ladder, painfully aware of the seconds that ticked by, the number of people still in the building, the fire that grew bigger by the second.
There was his job, and then there was an omega who was in a very real danger of being devoured by the fire.
His omega.
At the base of the ladder, Brad set the child down. Cole would deal with him. Roger had climbed back up the ladder; Brad jogged after him, knowing he couldn’t play favorites. And yet.
Roger ducked into the fourth window. Brad took the fifth. He almost couldn’t breathe as he thought about Ian at that last window, still waiting. Some of these people were already unconscious. How long could Ian wait?
People died of smoke inhalation all the time. Brad knew that. It made him tremble as he climbed out the window with his evacuee, jogging down the ladder faster than he should. He made himself slow down. Made himself wait for Roger to clear the ladder, his eyes glued onto Ian’s silhouette by the window.
Ian fell out of sight, and Brad’s heart stopped.
Maybe Ian had just crouched instead of falling unconscious. Maybe he was bending over to retrieve something.
Please be okay. Please don’t die.
But Ian didn’t poke his head out of the window a second time. Brad’s nerves frazzled. Roger was taking far too long to get off the ladder. Brad needed to get up there, needed to extract his omega from certain death.
If he lost Ian, if Ian was completely gone from this world... what would he do? Brad couldn’t raise Gwen alone. Even if he’d fucked up, even if he wasn’t good enough, part of him wanted to do better, so he could be an alpha worthy of his bondmate.
I can’t mess up this time.
He couldn’t live without Ian, couldn’t bear to think of a world without Ian smiling, Ian cradled against him, warm and soft and perfect.
When Roger deposited his evacuee with Cole, he went back up. Brad jogged after him, his heart crashing against his ribs.
Even if Ian was older than him... At least he was still alive. He couldn’t die yet. Brad still had years to spend with him—fuck staying away because he was scared. Living in this half-life without Ian... he couldn’t do it.
If Brad had Ian back in his arms... he would treasure every minute and second and day they had.
Roger disappeared into the sixth window; Brad waited until the ladder moved, then climbed onto Ian’s window, perching on the windowsill.
Flames had consumed most of the apartment; there was hardly anything left
