Total pages in book: 23
Estimated words: 21067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 105(@200wpm)___ 84(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Moments blur together as I’m coaxed from the wreckage, helpers appearing in swirls of color and sound. Questions cascade over me.
“Are you hurt?”
“Can you move?”
“That asshole ran you off the road.” At least someone else witnessed the crazy event.
I nod, shake my head, and try to clear my mind from the surreal haze. “Someone needs to call my sister. She’ll think I’ve driven straight off a cliff.”
Around me, people move with careful urgency, one of them producing a phone and asking for her number. Lucky for me, her number is ingrained in my memory, and even the horrific crash didn’t scramble it. I hear the man speaking with Romi and close my eyes to take a little snooze.
Minutes, hours, lifetimes seem to pass before I'm settled on the roadside, wrapped in a stranger's blanket as sirens approach. Romi’s voice, growing louder and clearer as the stranger places his phone next to my ear, fills my head like an echo I didn’t know I needed.
“You’re going to be okay,” she promises, her voice thick with tears and yet impossibly strong. “Sullivan and Sinclair are already on their way there.”
With the adrenaline pounding through me, I feel like kicking some asshole ass. The absurdity of Richard’s outrageous road rage just adds another layer of bullshit to my already frustrating day.
Leaning back against the gritty softness of the blanket, I close my eyes and let the jumble of sounds taper into a lullaby meant to cradle my world back toward normalcy.
Chapter 2
Banks
Sitting at my desk in the small, cluttered office I share with the other guys at the fire station, I’m trying to focus on the never-ending stream of paperwork. It’s amazing how much bureaucracy gets tangled up with saving lives. I tap my pen against the desk, staring out the window, half-listening to the muffled sounds of banter and activity from the rest of the crew. Just another day in Silver Spoon Falls.
Then, the radio crackles to life, pulling my attention away from the dreary office surroundings. “Bad accident reported on the road between Silver Spoon Falls and Midnight Falls,” Martha’s voice cuts through, crisp and urgent as ever. I can practically see her pushing her glasses up her nose and taking the call with her usual efficiency. “Multiple vehicles involved, possible injuries.”
Instinct blazes through me, an urge so strong it nearly knocks me off my seat. I need to be there. Whatever this is, it’s not just part of the job. I can’t explain it but, in my heart, I know it’s something vital to me. The overwhelming urge to go to the scene tears through me as soon as the call comes in. I toss the pen down, grab my jacket, and am out of the office before the details finish streaming in.
The guys are already assembling at the rig, their faces displaying the same focused determination I feel. Dacen, Evan, and Bodie are ready, moving with the mechanical precision that comes from too many shifts together. We’ve seen it all—or so we think. But every call is new, unpredictable.
As the rig rolls out, lights and sirens cutting through the afternoon, I hop in my SUV and follow them, keeping my eyes trained ahead, heart thumping in time with the rig’s roar. Real life always beats the paperwork.
When we pull up to the scene, chaos unfolds like a movie set with a tangle of flashing lights and twisted metal. Two mangled cars dominate the scene, a hulking black SUV and a once-sleek little red sports car. I watch Dacen, Evan, and Bodie as they head toward the SUV. Emmett and Alessandro head to the little red car, and instinct draws me to follow them. Something tugs in my gut. I can’t exactly explain it, but it’s like a premonition, a sense of urgency.
As we jog over, I spot the driver of the sports car lying at the side of the road, swathed in a wool blanket. An officer must have placed it there while waiting for us, a small mercy against the chilly afternoon.
Emmett crouches beside her, speaking in low, steady tones. “Ma’am, we’re here to help. Just try to stay still for me, alright?”
Alessandro pulls back the edge of the blanket, revealing blood trickling down the side of her face. The stark contrast against her pale skin causes concern to slice through the adrenaline-filled haze. This moment is always a gut-punch, seeing someone in pain and knowing it’s our job to help.
I try to get a look at her, but an ever-diligent EMT obstructs my view as he begins assessing her injuries. He places one hand on her shoulder, the other gently but firmly keeping her head in place. “Let’s not move your head now. We’re going to put a collar on, just in case.”
She tries to turn her head to the side, dazed but conscious. The EMT stops her with a gentle reminder, “Don’t move, just breathe.”