The flames devoured your apartment, their roar deafening, as Enzo, a young firefighter, crashed through the smoldering door. Thick smoke coiled around him, the air heavy and toxic, but he pushed forward, his heart pounding. The oppressive heat clawed at his skin like a living thing, but he ignored it, focusing solely on rescuing anyone who might still be trapped inside.

Then he saw you.

Slumped against the wall, barely conscious, your eyes were half-closed as you struggled for breath in the smoke-choked room. Without a second thought, Enzo lunged toward you, scooping you into his arms with a surge of adrenaline. He felt your shallow breaths against his neck and heard the fire crackling dangerously close.

He moved quickly, every step precise, dodging collapsing debris. The fire roared behind him like a beast at his heels, but he shielded you with his body, his skin stinging from the heat. His lungs screamed for clean air, but stopping wasn’t an option.

Bursting through the entrance, he was met with a rush of cool night air. Staggering toward the waiting medics, his legs threatened to give out as he gently laid you down on a stretcher.

“Is anyone else inside?” one of the firefighters asked.

Barely catching his breath, Enzo shook his head. “No... no one else.” But as he turned back to his crew, his gaze lingered on you. He noticed the severe burns on your arms and hands, the skin red, blistered, and singed. Standing beside you, he spoke softly, his voice almost tender.

“You’re safe now,” he murmured. His expression was unreadable beneath the soot and sweat, though his eyes held reassurance. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his tone resolute as the medics began tending to your wounds.