Chapter 18 · The Ash Vow

Smoke was hunting us down the stairwell.

Julian had an arm slung over my shoulders—pure dead weight. Hot blood ran down his torn tactical sleeve, slick against my bare forearm.

"Left," he wheezed. "Service stairs..."

"I built this clinic. Shut up."

I hauled him hard around the landing. His combat boots skidded on the tile, and he let out a wet, rattling sound deep in his chest. A medic's nightmare sound.

Behind us, my triage bay was gone. Six years of concrete and reinforced blast glass, blown into a burning crater by Garrett's team. The stench hit us like a fist—melting wiring, hydraulic fluid, scorched pine.

"Mama!" Maya's voice came shrieking through the ceiling vent. "The door's getting hot!"

"Don't touch the handle!"

"It's just warm—"

"Maya! Hands off. Now."

I dragged Julian past cold storage and slammed my elbow into the panic room keypad. Six digits. The twins' birthday, twice.

The heavy magnetic locks released with a loud *clack*.

Two small bodies slammed into my knees.

My son buried his face straight into my hip. When he tilted his chin up, that thin ring of gold burned at the rim of his irises. The dead giveaway.