Grant felt a cold dread wash over him, heavier than any he'd known. His heart thrashed against his ribs, each beat a loud echo in the silent void of his panic. He pressed his phone to his ear, the line already ringing for his head of security.
“Mr. Har–”
“Max, get everyone to 538 Silvertree. Lydia has Julia.” He ended the call, already heading to the door.
“Whoa, we’re coming, too,” Alicia said.
“Fine,” he answered as he dialed James.
“I’ll alert the cops and be here for tech support,” Alex called as they hurried into the hall.
“Mr. Harrington, she’s not–”
“Get the SUV ready. Julia’s in trouble.”
He didn’t wait for an answer before he hung up. He couldn’t move fast enough through the house and out into the night air. Alicia hurried behind him, her phone in her hands. “Alex? How long until police are on scene?”
“Estimate is fifteen minutes.”
“Damn it,” Grant said, pushing his feet to move faster to the garage. “That’s way too long.”
James had the car outside, engine running as he sat behind the wheel. “Get in.”
“You got the address from Max?” Grant asked as he hurried around the front of the vehicle and hopped into the passenger seat.
Alicia and Ethan slid into the backseat. “Go.”
James tore off down the driveway. Worry for Julia gnawed at Grant as he stared at the estimated time to arrival. “Can you go any faster?”
“Yeah,” James answered as he urged more speed from the SUV.
Silence stretched between them as tension grew. Each mile that passed twisted Grant’s stomach into a tighter knot.
James swung the car onto Silvertree Lane.
“Oh my God,” Grant exclaimed as he stared at what he assumed to be the location. Flames leapt from the house. James pulled into the driveway, slowing the car as they spotted Julia’s Porsche sitting near the house.
Grant stumbled out of the car, his gaze fixed on the raging flames engulfing the house. The once-grand Victorian mansion now appeared like a wrathful beast consumed by fire. Fiery tongues of orange and red licked at the dark sky, while windowsshattered as though the house itself were crying out into the night.
"Julia," he whispered, her name a prayer and a plea. The thought of losing her, of the light she brought into his dark world being snuffed out, was unbearable. He fought against the rising tide of despair, clinging to a sliver of hope that he wasn't too late.
CHAPTER 8
JULIA
The sight of the burning beam barricading the door hammered home the severity of her predicament. The walls closed in around her, both literally and metaphorically, as her path to salvation was engulfed in flames.
Panic surged within her, not just from the encroaching flames but from the thought of never seeing her family again. She desperately vowed to survive despite the inferno that roared around her.
Smoke swirled around her, thick and acrid, clawing at her throat and stinging her eyes. Dropping to her knees, she crawled, each movement a battle against the smothering embrace of the inferno.
Her gaze darted around, searching for a solution. She needed to escape this room before she went up in flames with it.
The window across the space was inaccessible, flames crumbling the curtains into flaming heaps. She’d never be able to get to it.
It wasn’t an option. She glanced at the door again as she tugged her shirt up to cover her mouth and nose. It would do little to stop the smoke, but it provided some relief.
The burning beam blocking the door made it impossible to use it to escape.
