Page 167 of Flint’s Strike

More lights. Shouts. The roar of a firehose.

And a door.

“Parker!” Nate’s voice cuts through everything else. Pure panic, desperation, and authority all rolled into one. “Move! I’m a goddamned Texas Ranger and that’s my fucking partner!”

I can’t see him. My vision’s gone gray. Too much soot, too little air. I can feel Parker slipping away from me. She can’t hold her head up anymore, but she’s still moving.

Someone—Nate, I think—grabs us. Both of us. The three of us go down together. I lose my grip on the mask, and with the tank still duct-taped to my chest, I can’t reach her.

EMTs swarm around us. I think…I can almost make out someone easing Parker onto a gurney. Then me. Another mask, this one lighter, slides over my nose and mouth, and the weight of the tank on my chest disappears.

“Parker!” I’m so tired. Too tired to make the word any louder than a harsh whisper. They’re taking her away from me. Wheeling us across a parking lot toward more flashing lights.

“Keep them together!” Nate shouts from somewhere behind my head. “Whatever fucking bus you put her on, he goes too.”

Whoever’s rolling me takes a hard turn, and through my tears, I catch sight of Parker’s braid. She keeps trying to lift her head, and some fucker in a uniform shouts at her to stay still.

They load me in next to her. I reach for her hand, giving her fingers a gentle squeeze before the adrenaline gives out, and I let go.

Chapter Sixty-Seven

Parker

The lights hurt my eyes.

There’s something in my nose. Swallowing is…difficult.

I try to call for Eliot, but the only sound that escapes is rough and weak, more breath than speech.

“Hey there, hon.”

Grace.

Tears leak from my eyes, spilling down my temples until Grace takes my hand and squeezes. “You’re okay. I’m here. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

It’s enough for me to close my eyes against the glare.

Eliot. Fire. Alarms and sirens and people shouting.

“Stay still.”

“We’re taking care of him. Let us take care of you too.”

“They’re lucky.”

Lucky. We’re lucky.

I turn my head, risk lifting my lids again, and meet Grace’s worried gaze.

“Eliot?”

Grace’s eyes soften. “They’ll bring him back soon. Don’t you worry.”

I swallow, wince, and gather enough strength for two words. “How…long?”

“I’m not sure.”

The room starts to shimmer as another round of tears well in my eyes. I brace my elbow against the mattress and push.