Beneath him, Ian had hunched over, coughing into a towel. He was still alive.
Brad fought the blooming relief in his lungs. He dropped to the floor beside Ian, and Ian looked up.
Their gazes locked. Ian’s eyes grew wide; his mouth fell open.
Brad didn’t wait for him to speak. Just hauled Ian onto his shoulders and climbed out through the window, waiting for the ladder to return.
The flames licked at them. Brad anchored his most precious person against himself, set foot on the ladder, and climbed down. He didn’t stop at the base of the ladder, though. He carried Ian all the way to the paramedic truck, then set him down next to Philippe.
“Take care of him,” Brad told Philippe. “He’s mine.”
He exchanged a look with Ian. Didn’t dare wait for Ian’s answer, in case Ian rejected him again.
Relieved that his omega was safe, Brad hurried back to the ladder truck. Ian would be fine under Philippe’s care.
Whether Ian wanted Brad as his alpha again... Brad was nervous to find out.
Harris drove the ladder truck to the next side of the building. As long as there were people in there, they couldn’t put the fires out—the water would turn into steam, and scald the rest of the occupants.
Brad repeated the process with Roger and Cole. The fire had consumed most of this side of the building; there was hardly any floor left unburnt. Brad looked at the charred remnants of furniture, his thoughts whirling too fast.
Ian could’ve been trapped on this side of the building. Brad could’ve lost him.
That still shook him, more than he wanted it to.
He climbed into a second story window, picking his way past fallen beams and burning floorboards. The integrity of the building was plummeting; they couldn’t stay in here for much longer.
Brad thought he saw movement, maybe heard a child’s cry. He made his way through the burning rooms, determined not to leave any survivors behind.
He found no one.
On his way back to the window, something fell from the ceiling. He didn’t see it until it was too late. The beam hit his helmet, and the impact went to his head.
Brad fell, blacking out.
31
Ian
Ian breathed in deep, holding the mask the EMT had given him. His throat was sore, and his skin stung like a bad sunburn.
Brad had saved him. He hadn’t expected to see Brad’s face through the mask, hadn’t thought Brad would scoop him up, carry him out of the fire.
He’s mine, Brad had said, his voice muffled.
Ian’s heart had stumbled.
And now Brad was gone again. Ian wobbled over to the ladder truck, waiting for Brad to return.
The firefighter on the ladder paused at one of the windows, peering inside. Then he climbed in, his movements hurried.
When he emerged, there was another firefighter slung across his shoulders. Ian stopped breathing. That couldn’t be Brad... could it?
Ian hadn’t heard Brad talk much about the dangers of his job. But he’d heard plenty about unstable buildings, smoke inhalation, and concussions from falling objects.
With his evacuee, the firefighter strode toward the paramedic truck—his wasn’t a face Ian recognized.
Where was Brad?
Ian wrapped his arm around his belly, fear creeping through his veins. He hurried up behind the firefighter, peering through the fallen man’s mask. Through the hard plastic, Ian glimpsed Brad’s face, his eyes closed, his body limp.
Panic filtered through his veins. Ian followed Brad and his coworker to the paramedics, scarcely breathing as the firefighter lay Brad down, pulling off his helmet.
Without his protective gear, Brad looked... vulnerable. Like he could be hurt easily. He was already hurt.
“A beam fell on him,” the firefighter said. “I found him unconscious.”
Ian clutched at himself, shuddering at the thought. Despite Brad being strong, there was only so much his body could withstand.
“How long has it been?” The EMT shone a light into Brad’s eye.
“Not long. A minute or so.”
Ian watched as the men frowned. He couldn’t help replaying those last few moments in his head, when Brad had scooped him up, his hands gentle.
Brad had come to save him, and now this.
“Is he going to be okay?” Ian croaked.
The EMT met his eyes worriedly. “Depends on whether he wakes up soon.”
Ian recognized the EMT—that was Philippe, the same person who had taken care of Gwen at the station. He trusted Philippe. But for Philippe to look uncertain... What if Brad didn’t wake up? What if he never saw Brad smile again?
Ian waited, watching Brad’s face. Brad didn’t move. Ian counted the seconds that passed, and with each moment Brad remained unconscious, his anxiety spiked.
What if Brad never woke up?
His throat closing, Ian fell to his knees next to Brad, curling his fingers around Brad’s hand. He knew Brad was constantly exposed to danger on the job. And yet, seeing it for himself, knowing just how much Brad risked each time he stepped into a burning building...
What if Brad lost his life right here, and Ian never told him the truth? What if there were no more chances to wake up next to Brad, or hear his voice?
I should’ve said I’m sorry. I should’ve told you that you were perfect.
Ian squeezed Brad’s hand, biting back a sob. He’d chosen to leave Brad. He’d taken himself out of Brad’s life, and it had been the wrong decision, being so far away from his alpha.
Is it okay for me to be selfish? I can care for Gwen. I can make myself useful.
Gods, if there was one thing Ian could change... it would be leaving his alpha. If Brad woke up, and if Brad wanted him back, Ian would leap at that opportunity. He didn’t want to think of spending another day without his alpha.
Ian’s heart splintered, and he couldn’t breathe. Please be okay.
Against his palm, Brad’s fingers twitched. His eyelids fluttered, and he cracked open his eyes.
Ian held his breath, scarcely daring to believe it.
“Where’m I?” Brad blinked.
“Hey.” Philippe snapped his fingers in front of Brad’s face. “What’s your name?”
“Brad.”
“Full name.”
“Brad... Saxon.”
“Who’s our team
