He came. He was disoriented enough to stumble as he made his way around the corner. Instinctively, he reached his hand out to steady himself, grabbing the red-hot grill. His scream made her leap backward. Holding his hand in front of his face, he tried to study the wound, but there was too much smoke.

If they weren’t going to die from each other they’d die from this.

While he was still preoccupied with his hand, she launched her weight into him, knocking him sideways. He twisted, landing stomach-down on the grill. It didn’t take much—that’s what she’d think later. Maybe it was the drug she’d given him or maybe it was the smoke, but he went down and stayed down. Using the wall as leverage behind her, she pushed her boots on his ass and held him there as he screamed. As he tried to lift himself off the grill, he burned his hand, too, and he flailed helplessly. There was a different smell this time—burning flesh.

“Summer! Help me!”

“I’m not your fucking Summer.”

His body spasmed. She could hear the sizzling of his flesh between the whooshes of the fire alarm. He was screaming, so high in pitch it matched the rest of the chaos. He was roasting, this was his hell. She didn’t want help to come yet—this wasn’t finished—but the sound of shouting filled her ears somewhere beyond the door. She closed her eyes. She heard her name being called. By whom? Braithe? It wasn’t being called, it was being screamed—everyone was screaming. It was Rainy they were calling—Rainy, not Summer. Rainy... Rainy... The name she’d chosen to outsmart her trauma. Taured had stopped moving. He’d just...stopped. When? She was so tired. She dropped to the floor.

The pounding in her head got louder. When had it started? When would it stop? She couldn’t hold on anymore. Collapsing against the wall, she heaved what felt like her last breath as the door burst open and the light streamed in.

EPILOGUE

Nine months later

The city sounded good, like the best dream revisited. The humming, honking vehicles made Ham’s head whip back and forth, tail tucked as his gangly legs followed at a matching trot with hers. Rupi, on the other hand, seemed to like the incessant car action, and he stared toward the road transfixed, his little lips pursed in interest.

“I can’t believe you lived here,” Viola said. Rupi was strapped to her chest in one of his baby wraps, and she had both of his little hands in hers as she kept pace with Rainy and Ham. It was her first time in New York. She’d insisted on coming with Rainy, even though Rupi was only nine months old.