I Feel Better With You Around

31.

(Y/N) quickly ran into the building, the sweat forming on the side of her head. She heard Melaya and Adair. They were shouting, but at what? She ran deeper into the hall, taking twists and turns and following their sound. She stopped at the beginning of a hall to see both of them, side by side, running toward her. They started yelling again. She could barely make out what they were saying. It sounded like they were through glass.

(Y/N) tried to go to them but when she put her hands out, her fingers were pressed against a freezing cold barrier. It was, in fact, glass that was keeping their voices muffled. She had to think of a way to let them out. She started kicking at it. It wobbled but it didn't crack. She kicked it again, over and over. Unfortunately, there was not enough time to try and break the glass before a thundering sound rumbled within the already broken building.

The sound sped directly toward (Y/N), but she didn't seem to notice. She kept kicking until the sound had made it to the wall beside her, then exploded with a firey rage. It blasted her back and shattered the glass. She grew into a coughing fit and felt the sense of something warm trickle down the side of her head. Her hands were scraped and many parts of her body were badly bruised. Adair and Melaya were nowhere to be found. She panted, desperate for air as it became harder to breathe. A blinding, hurtful light surrounded her every which way. The fire escape had collapsed in on itself. The only truly way out was up the steps and on to the second floor.

(Y/N)'s ears rung as she scrambled for the steps. She could hear distant screams. Familiar screams. She put around and climbed the next flight. The only obstacle blocking her way now was a heavy metal door. She summoned her strength and courage, thinking of what could possibly be behind that door.

(Y/N) balled her hands into fists and started to ram her body into the metal door. What she wasn't expecting was it to open before her body could even make contact with the cool steel. She crumbled to the concrete floor, groaning in pain. She had hit her head on the concrete pretty badly. She tried to stand, only to find herself starting to wobble and the room spinning. She felt like throwing up. The room around her felt cold, as if it were untouched by the fire's harmful burn. She shook her head, slowly regaining balance. She tried to stand, only to be pushed back down on the ground again. Her head slammed into the cold ground again. Over and over. She couldn't see who was doing this to her, she just knew that their touch felt like it was burning her flesh to the bone. She screamed in pain.

The person started to drag her by her hair and pull her over to the corner of the dark, damp, and cold room. Her breathing was irratical. Her eyes were frantic as she constantly looked for something to grab on to. Her hand outstretched for a metal pipe that was sticking out from the brick only for her hand to be crushed under the weight of her captor's foot. She cried out in pain and looked up.

Her heart almost stopped beating all together. Those cold, dead eyes. The black hair. The smirk that made her skin grow pale. "Daniel..." She whimpered. He released her hand from his foot and crouched down so his breath was hot on her face. His hands glowed with a heated orange. She could smell and hear the crackle of smoke as it grew closer to the room. The bright light in his palms would never be able to match the burning desire in his eyes. "My queen," he growled and his hand raised to touch her singed cheek, "what took you so long to realize that we were made for each other?"

The scent of burnt flesh and drying blood filled her nostrils. It was putrid. Her hand desperately reached for the pipe. Her fingers brushed against its steel. She could feel the heat rising from his palm. She finally managed to grab a hold of the pipe. It slammed into his face, crashing into the side of his skull. The sound of bone cracking was imminent, but ever so present. He screamed in pain. She scrambled, dropping the pipe, and tried to stand. He was hurt, but not knocked over. She looked around before he could regain and collect himself. There was a window. A singular window, cracked and covered with dust.