Bradford's Orders Book Two The Legacy Series

Chapter 25

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Chapter 25

Bradford

The night was heavy—black as pitch, the kind of dark that felt thick in the lungs. The only sound was the ocean, soft and steady beyond the cliff's edge, whispering against the rocks like a lullaby I'd heard since I was a boy.

I was buried in sleep. The kind of deep, bone-dead sleep that comes after too many long days and not enough rest. Muscles slack. Mind blank. Breath even.

Then something shifted.

At first, I thought I was dreaming. A tickle in the back of my throat. A strange warmth in the air. I rolled over, frowning, trying to sink back into sleep but it was there again. Hotter this time. Thicker.

I cracked one eye open, squinting into the dark.

And that's when I smelled it.

Smoke.

The kind that doesn't belong to a fireplace or the leftover remnants of a beach bonfire. This was sharp. Chemical. Wrong.

My eyes flew open.

Then came the sound, the high, shrill scream of the fire alarm splitting the silence, drilling straight into my skull.

I sat up too fast, choking. My lungs seized against the sudden burn, the smoke already thick in the air. My mind scrambled to catch up, still clinging to sleep as the heat crept in.

"Holly," I rasped, voice rough and cracking. "Tempy."

The panic hit me like a freight train.

I kicked off the sheets, heart pounding, and stumbled toward the door barefoot. The floorboards were already hot under my soles. Smoke curled from beneath the vent above the hallway, thick and rolling fast, turning the world a shifting gray.
I didn't waste time knocking.

I slammed the door open.

Holly was awake, Tempy tight in her arms, eyes wide and wild in the pulsing red light of the alarm. Her skin looked ghost-pale under the flashing strobe, hair mussed, hands trembling but strong.

"We have to go," I said, already moving toward the bathroom. "Now."

She nodded once, wrapping Tempy tighter against her chest. I yanked the blanket from the bed, dragged it under the faucet, and twisted the knobs. The water steamed instantly, already hot from the heat closing in on the pipes.

I shoved the dripping fabric into her hands. "Wrap her in this."
Another towel. Another layer of protection. I thrust it toward her.
"What about..."

"I'll get the others," I said, meeting her eyes. "Go to the backyard. Stay low. Don't look back."

She didn't argue. Just ran.

The second she was gone, I moved.

Room to room, pounding on doors, yelling names. My voice felt like it couldn't cut through the smoke, like the air itself was trying to muffle me.

Blake and Emma stumbled out first. Blake gripping her hand, Emma blinking like she'd been yanked straight out of a dream.

Then Easton, shirtless, Lowe clinging to him, her pregnant belly pressed against his side. She was shaking, barefoot, her hair damp with sweat. The heat was thick now, the air stifling. Alarms wailed like a war siren overhead.

This wasn't just a fire.

This was a goddamn war zone.

We bolted for the back door, the smoke chasing our heels. The second it swung open, the cool air slammed into us like a wave but it wasn't relief.