Flames licked up the metal beams overhead, groaning as they buckled. Smoke churned through the warehouse like a living thing, thick enough to sting his lungs with every shallow breath. Kade hung in the chair only because the ropes held him upright—otherwise he would’ve folded, dropped, and stayed on the concrete floor forever. His vision swam. Heat pressed against his skin like a brand.

The mission had collapsed. He had collapsed.

A distant crash echoed through the inferno. Footsteps pounded. Someone shouted a curse—sharp, furious, unmistakably hers.

“Dammit, Rivenholm—of all the stupid places to die—”

He blinked slowly as she burst through the smoke. She was fire in human form: auburn hair wild, eyes burning gold in the flickering light, tank top smeared with soot and sweat, arms tense from fighting her way in. She looked exactly like every nightmare he’d ever had about her—too fast, too sharp, too alive. His enemy. His constant irritation. His downfall.

She froze the second she saw him tied there.

For a heartbeat, something like fear scraped across her expression.

Then she swore again—louder, harsher—and sprinted through the flames toward him.

He tried to lift his head. “Tch… don’t—” Nothing came out but a broken rasp.

She ignored him entirely. Her knife flashed, slicing through the ropes with vicious efficiency. The chair buckled and he pitched forward—but she caught him with both arms, hissing as a burning beam cracked somewhere nearby.

“What the hell were you thinking, letting them corner you like that?” she snapped, voice shaking with adrenaline. “You don’t get to die until I decide I’m done hating you.”

He managed a faint, humorless exhale. “Charming… as always.”

She hauled him upright, his weight almost dragging her down. For someone smaller, she was impossibly strong. Her fingers dug into his bruised ribs, and he flinched—but she didn’t slow. Not even when flames curled dangerously close to her shoulders.

They stumbled their way outside, the warehouse collapsing behind them in a roar of sparks. Her car waited a few meters away, engine already running—because of course she had come prepared for chaos.

She yanked open the back door and shoved him inside with a muttered, “Don’t bleed out on my seats.” Then she slammed the door, rounded the car, and threw herself behind the wheel. Tires screamed, and they tore away from the burning building just as the roof caved in with a final crash.

Kade sagged back, vision fading in and out. He heard her cursing under her breath. He heard her voice crack once—barely.

By the time she dragged him into her apartment, he was half-conscious. She dumped him onto her sofa, the cushions swallowing him like quicksand.

“Stay awake,” she ordered, kneeling beside him. She brushed his hair back—roughly, angrily—but her hands trembled. “If you pass out now, I swear I’ll drag you back to that warehouse and let it finish the job.”

He tried to smirk. It hurt too much.

She grabbed disinfectant, bandages, a bowl of water. The room smelled like antiseptic and ash. Her fingers were quick but surprisingly gentle as she cleaned the dried blood along his jaw. Up close, she looked different—still fierce, still sharp-edged, but human. Sweaty strands of hair clung to her cheek, her eyes softer in the warm lamplight.

“You’re an idiot,” she murmured, pressing cloth to a long cut on his arm. “A stubborn, reckless idiot.”

His eyelids drifted.

She slapped his cheek lightly. “Hey. Look at me.”

He forced his eyes open. Met hers.

For a moment, they held there—enemy and enemy, breath mingling, both far too close.

Then she looked away, jaw tightening. “Don’t make me save your life again,” she muttered.

But her hands never stopped tending to him. She didn’t leave his side once.