Dean's boots hit the pavement as the firetruck skidded to a stop. The call had come in fast, sharp—fire at the school. The address flashed on the screen, and Dean’s heart dropped.

It was your school.

He didn’t wait for the truck to fully park, jumping out and rushing toward the building as the heat from the flames hit him like a wall. His mind was racing, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, but all he could think about was you. Please be okay.

He pushed past the other first responders, scanning the crowd until he saw you standing at the edge, wide-eyed and trembling, but alive.

"Hey," he breathed, rushing to you, pulling you into his arms before you could say anything. "You're safe. Thank God you're safe."

Your shaking hands clung to him as you pulled back, looking at him with wide, panicked eyes. "My friend’s still in there, you— you have to—"

Dean’s stomach twisted. “It’s okay. Your friend is gonna be okay,” he said, trying to sound calm, steady, but his mind was already running through the scenarios. "What’s their name?"