Outside the Burning Warehouse

Elias had just arrived. His lungs burned as he pushed through the haze of smoke and debris, his thoughts only on one thing—getting to Seraphina. The fire's heat scorched his skin, but his focus was single-minded. His heart pounded, each beat urging him to hurry.

And then, amidst the chaos, he heard it.

A shout.

"Elias!"

His eyes snapped to the direction of the voice—there, through the billowing smoke, Seraphina was stumbling towards him, her clothes torn, face smeared with dirt and blood. Her eyes were wild, panicked, and she was shaking, her breath ragged.

Without thinking, he bolted toward her. His arms found her as she collapsed into him, and for a split second, his world narrowed to the feel of her trembling body against his.

"Elias," she gasped, voice barely more than a whisper. "Adeline—she—she's still in there. She saved me. She—she's still in there."

The words cut through him like a blade. His pulse skipped, and his breath caught in his throat.

"Adeline?"

Seraphina shook her head, tears streaking down her face. "She pushed me aside. She—she's still in there. I couldn't—"

Elias didn't wait for her to finish. He didn't process, didn't think. He just reacted.

His heart clenched as he turned on his heel and sprinted back toward the fire, the heat suffocating, the smoke thick in his lungs. The flames roared, but nothing in the world could stop him now. He couldn't lose her—not like this.

He found her moments later—slumped against a beam, her body half-buried under rubble, blood pooling around her. The air was thick with smoke, but his eyes locked onto her immediately.

"Adeline!" Elias's voice cracked, raw and desperate as he knelt beside her.

Her breathing was shallow, each inhale a strained rasp. Blood—so much blood—was seeping from a gash in her side, staining the dirt beneath her. She was still alive. Barely.

His fingers trembled as he carefully moved the debris, his heart stuttering with every second that passed. She was too still, too pale. His mind screamed at him to act, to move faster, but his hands were shaking with fear.

His eyes scanned her face—familiar, soft features twisted in unconscious agony—and in that moment, the only thing he could think of was her. Adeline.

Without hesitation, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her as if she were made of glass, as if the world itself might shatter if he let go.

"Adeline, stay with me," he urged, his voice breaking, shaking with the weight of everything he had left to lose. He forced his feet to move, pushing himself to carry her to safety, to somewhere—anywhere—away from the flames that threatened to consume her.

Seraphina was standing just outside the wreckage now, staring at them with wide eyes, her hands pressed against her mouth. Her face was pale, stricken with horror. She opened her mouth, but no words came.

"I'll get her out," Elias muttered, his voice quiet but firm. His eyes never left Adeline's face as he moved away from the burning building. "I won't let her die. Not like this."

Seraphina took a step back, her lips trembling. She wanted to follow, to do something, but she wasn't sure where she fit in the chaos. Her voice barely made it through the air, fragile and full of fear.

"Please... don't let her die. Don't let her be—"

Elias didn't answer. He couldn't. His thoughts were a blur, a mess of fear and determination, but all that mattered was Adeline.

Her life. Her breath.

He reached the outside and didn't stop until he was a safe distance away from the inferno, his body shaking with adrenaline and exhaustion. He collapsed to his knees, cradling her closer, his chest heaving as he tried to steady his breath. The world around him seemed to fade away.

Adeline's eyes fluttered, weak, struggling to open. Her voice was a whisper—a rasping sound barely audible.

"Elias..." she murmured, her gaze hazy. "You found me..."

He pressed his forehead to hers, his hand gently brushing her hair away from her face.

"I'm here," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm here."

In that moment, he realized the truth. He hadn't just been saving her. He had been saving himself, holding on to the only thing that had ever made him feel whole.

Everything else—everything—could wait.