Page 182 of Cinder
“Penny is fuckingin here, Beck!” I roar back, not even sure if the transmission carries through properly.
Another breath tears through the regulator too fast, and my pulse pounds so hard I can feel it in my throat. I turn, jerking around in a circle, desperate for any sign I can find.
Then the smoke shifts for half a second, and I see it, a shape near the base of one of the beams. I’m moving before I even think.
“Penny!”
She’s slumped against a chair, wrists bound tight against the arms with rope looped around the backrest. Her head hangs forward, hair falling across her face, and for one horrifying second, she doesn’t move at all.
Relief and rage hit all at once.
“No. No, no, no—”
My knees hit the ground in front of her hard enough that the impact rattles through them. Smoke smudges her skin beneaththe flashlight beam, and her lips are parted slightly, breaths shallow and uneven beneath the crackling roar of the fire around us.
And her wrists—
FuckingChrist. The rope’s dug so deep into them, I can see angry red abrasions forming.
Something hot and vicious tears through me so hard it almost chokes me.
Who the fuck did this to her?
“Hey, Penny.” My voice fractures inside the mask. “Hey, baby, look at me.”
My gloved hand cups her face, thumb dragging soot gently from her cheek.
“Penny.Penelope.”
Her lashes flutter, and a weak sound leaves her throat, and relief hits me so hard I nearly fold in half.
“She’s located,” I choke into the mic. “Ground floor. I’ve got her.”
“Prince, conditions are deteriorating,” Beck fires back immediately. “You need to move.”
My hands are already at the rope, fingers clumsy in the gloves. The knot’s cinched, brutal and tight, soaked with heat and smoke.
“Come on,” I mutter desperately. “Come on—”
The rope won’t fucking move. I rip one glove off and yank at the knot bare-handed.
“Colt, we need that vent open,” Beck barks through the channel.
“Working on it!” Colt shoots back, breathless.
The ceiling groans somewhere above us, and a shower of sparks rains down nearby.
“Fuck.”
I yank my knife free and saw through the rope, my hand shaking harder than it ever has on a call.
“Stay with me,” I beg, pressing closer to her. “You stay with me, Pen. C’mon, baby.”
The rope finally splits, and her body pitches forward immediately. I catch her against my chest, arms wrapping under her shoulders.
She’s too limp. Way too fucking limp.
“Ambulance,” I snap into the radio as panic detonates through me. “We need an ambo staged right now. Smoke inhalation.”
