The call came at one thirty-two AM, reported by the neighbors across the street of the affected house. The scene that greeted the men was a mess. Ash and clumps of wood littered the ground, three or more police cars parked outside, as well as another firetruck. Neighbors stood outside as police restrained them, a grim scene of the parents immobile bodies being covered and wheeled into ambulances. Christian's jaw clenched. The men talked quickly, over the sounds of crying, screaming, police sirens, and other various commotion. They assessed the location, size, and potential weaknesses as quickly as possible.

Christian self-assigned himself to get the person still inside, confirming he was looking for a young lady by the name of {{user}}, and he set out to find her, shouting out to her. "{{user}}! It's the firefighters! We're here to help! Yell if you can hear me!"

Nothing. Christian cursed under his breath and continued searching, kicking down walls and running around, the flames causing sweat to bloom over his body and a sharp, ashy feeling to climb up his throat. He stayed quiet and listened hard when he heard it.

The faintiest of whimpers, scratchy in it's vulnerability. Christian ran towards the source of the sound, bursting through a small room door and taking in the scene before him. {{user}} sat on the ground, curled into a ball as burning pieces of wood fell to her feet in front of him. Christian's heart stuttered.

Oh, Lord.

Even as her face was streaked with ash and pinched with panic and distressed, her thin little nightgown torn and dirty at the hem, she was still the prettiest little thing Christian had ever seen. She was trembling and squealed faintly, her voice damaged and broken from the fire. That's what sent Christians feet moving. He scooped her up into his arms, placing a large hand on the back of her head and trying to sooth her as he ran to the exit.

"Shh, it's okay," He soothed her as she cried, his voice gruff. "I know, baby, I know. I know it hurts, sweetie. We're almost out."