Page 182 of My Unhinged Alphas
Havoc follows my line of sight at once and nods. “Yeah.”
Vale coughs once into his elbow, then says, “The walls won’t hold much.”
Lena looks at all three of us. “You mean literally through the wall.”
“Yes,” I say.
That’s enough explanation. She pulls the blanket off the bed and wraps it over her mouth and nose without being told twice.
Good.
We clear the furniture fast. Chair. Side table. Lamp. Havoc rips the curtain rod loose. I take the lamp base. Vale comes inon the side despite the state of his ribs, jaw set, one arm braced protectively across his middle.
“Don’t overdo it,” I tell him.
He gives me a look. “Excellent timing.”
The first blow punches a small hole through the paneling. The second opens it wider. Drywall dust comes out in a cloud. The air tastes worse by the second. Havoc attacks the weak point with the curtain rod like he means to take the whole building apart. I follow with the lamp base, widening the break until I can get my forearm through and feel empty space on the other side.
Another room.
“Keep going.”
We do.
The wall starts to give in chunks now. Splintered board, insulation, torn paper backing. Vale drives his shoulder into the break, hisses with pain, does it again. Havoc swears at him for being an idiot while helping tear the opening wider.
Smoke is thick enough now that Lena’s outline is blurred if I glance at her too long. She’s staying low, eyes on us, not panicking, which matters more than she knows.
A minute ago I could see all four walls. Now the far corners are blurring. The orange under the door has become a hard, shifting glow, and every time the air moves, it carries more heat with it.
I hit the weak spot in the wall again and again, feel the cheap motel board start to loosen, hear Havoc cursing beside me as he tears at the opening with the curtain rod.
Vale coughs hard behind us.
Lena says, through the blanket over her mouth, “Tell me there’s something.”
I punch my fist through and this time my arm goes farther. Not insulation, but space.
“There,” I say. “We’ve got air on the other side.”
Havoc redoubles the force of his swings. I widen the break with the lamp base, tearing out chunks instead of holes now, until part of the next room comes into view through the dust and smoke: the edge of a bed, a lamp, wallpaper, dark and intact.
An exit.
Not out yet. But closer.
“Keep it together,” I say. “We go through one at a time. Nobody rushes and gets caught.”
The words come out harder than I mean them to, but that’s what they need right now. Structure. Order. Something simple enough to obey while the room turns hostile around us.
The fire reaches us before we finish.
There’s a hot crack from behind. “Knox,” Lena screams. “Hurry please.”
I look.
Flames have pushed past the line under the door now. They’ve found the curtains by the window. One edge catches, then the whole cheap fabric goes up almost at once, fire racing upward in a sheet that licks the ceiling.
