❝ if i am to perish by the power of fire, at least let that fire be yours. ❞

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⤚ an excerpt ⤙

I just wanted you to fuck me but then I got greedy,

and wanted you to love me.

     Beau Decker is used to holding his breath. He's been holding his breath all his life. It's not a surprise that he just gets better and better at it. Nor is it all that surprising when he removes his mask, slips it onto the kid he's holding, using the width of his body to shield him from the falling debris.

     Sweat drips down his head, sinking into his eyebrows, slinking through them like an army crawl through weeds before it slides into his eyes. It's a different kind of burn and almost a relief, too, with all the thick heat around him. The black fog coats his skin and his throat. He's going to die in this burning building if he doesn't get out of here.

     And he has a kid in his arms, so that's not an option anymore. There's another thought that itches at the back of his melting brain. Not a thought, but a memory, a recall that seems to use his sweat as a wave to push through his frontal lobe.

     It's Shepherd because of course it is. Shepherd, gripping his shoulder, up near his neck, his massive hand taking a chunk out of his trapezius muscle like he plans to feed it back to him, Eve in the garden of Eden coaxing Adam into the darkness.

     Shepherd leaning down so they're eye to eye, a not-so-friendly reminder of the height he has on Beau. Shepherd, spitting the order through his clenched teeth. "When I say fall back, you fall the fuck back. You're reckless. Which maybe you think is cute, but that shit gets people killed. Which you're closely aware of."

     The ceiling collapses over him with that thought.