Chapter Thirty

Amara

O utside the shop’s windows, the stars shone down on the city. The moon was dotted out by clouds, causing them to glow, and bats swooped by every now and then to catch their evening meal.

It was close to closing time, and Amara filled the time doing little tasks. After Drake had left that morning, she had a fairly uneventful day. There was a steady stream of customers, a few of whom came in just as the two of them finished dressing. Drake had left with a smirk and a kiss on her cheek, leaving her to tend to the customers and finish picking up the books that had fallen.

She got an order of books in that afternoon but had to wait until the traffic calmed down enough for her to restock the items. She didn’t think she’d be able to get them done before closing, but she could at least make a dent. Unlike before she met the guys, she no longer wanted to stay at the shop longer than necessary. She wanted to be back home, with her mates.

Exhaustion also clung to her, however. She had been getting tired quickly the last few days, and she wasn’t even showing yet. The idea of what the rest of the pregnancy would bring didn’t seem so appealing. She wasn’t looking forward to being even more exhausted the bigger she got.

Briefly, as she counted the cash in the register, she wondered if the guys would still find her as irresistible as they did now if she looked like a cow.

After the cash was counted, she stuffed the last of the books on the shelf that needed restocking and sighed as she pushed herself to her feet. A wave of nausea overcame her, and her hand flew to her mouth before she turned and bolted toward the bathroom. She made it just in time before everything she had for dinner came rushing back out.

When she was done, she weakly clamored to her feet, flushed the toilet, and shuffled to the sink. After she washed her hands, she splashed water on her now sweaty face and then proceeded to brush her teeth. She was rinsing out her mouth when she heard the sound of glass shattering.

Her heart pounded as her stomach turned once more, thinking someone was vandalizing her store. She hesitated for a few moments, not wanting to surprise them only to have them come after her.

And then the smoke alarms blared.

She rushed out of the bathroom only to slam straight into a wall of thick, dense smoke. She gasped on instinct, inhaling the plumes only to splutter and cough. From the sound of the alarms, her ears rang, but she had enough wits about her to move toward the front door.

The heat from the flames was suffocating, and they were blocking her escape, crawling up the walls and engulfing the shelves. The entire front of the shop was ablaze, the door shrouded by a wall of hot, bright fire. She turned on her heel and bolted toward the back door, pulling her cell phone out of her back pocket as she did so.

She shouldered the back door, coughing and unable to catch her breath. But the door wouldn’t budge.

It was as if something was blocking it from the outside. It hit her then, when she gave one last shove. The fire was intentional.

Someone had set fire to her shop and made sure that she couldn’t get out.

She was gagging on the smoke as she fumbled with the locked screen of her phone, trying to stay as low to the ground as possible. It took longer than she would have liked to pull up the first number, but eventually, her shaking fingers clicked on Knox’s contact.

As it rang and she lifted it to her ear, she tried to stay as calm as possible, but the panic was beginning to set in. With every ring of the phone, the fire spread further and faster. Bookshops were full of kindling. If she didn’t get help soon, she was never going to make it.

“Are you missing me, little bunny?” Knox asked cockily when he answered. The sounds of the bar filled the background.

“Knox,” she began before a fit of coughs. She struggled to breathe as she spit out, “I can’t . . . the shop . . .”

Between the panic and the inability to get enough oxygen to her body, she was beginning to find it hard to think and form words. She was pressed against the back wall, crouching low to avoid the smoke, but by this time, the fire had spread so rapidly that the whole place was engulfed. She couldn’t see two feet in front of her, and her eyes watered from even trying.

His tone turned serious. “What’s wrong? ”

“Fire,” she managed, head swirling. “Can’t . . . get out.”

She could hear him yell for Drake and Zeke. “Hang on, we’re on our way,” he said frantically.

“Hurry,” she whispered. She was getting weaker. She had already inhaled smoke for far too long, and she knew it couldn’t be good for the baby either.

Her legs gave out on her, and she slid down the wall. The heat was suffocating and blistering, and tears dried the moment they escaped her eyes.

As if to protect the tiny life inside her, her arms went around her stomach. The life that hadn’t had the chance to flourish. They would never get to grow up, would never get to fall in love, or experience the joy that life had to offer.

Tears flowed and evaporated before they reached the height of her cheekbones. There was nothing she could do for her child. There was nothing she could do for herself.

The last thought before she lost consciousness was how she wished it wouldn’t be the guys who found her body. She didn’t want them to have to bear that heartache, knowing that they couldn’t save her and their baby.