Page 59 of No Take Backs

Chief is already cursing under his breath, heading for his own bunker gear and his truck.

“I’m going,” I tell him even though he isn’t even paying attention to me anymore.

Not that it matters.

I slide my bunker gear out of the back seat of my truck and step into it before jumping into the driver’s seat. Then I follow the chief through town.

The entire drive feels like an eternity, even though I know it's only been minutes since the call came in. My hands grip the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white with the strain. Every nerve in my body is on high alert, a low buzzing hum of adrenaline coursing through me. The familiar streets blur as I speed through town, my mind replaying every conversation I’ve had with Nia about her family, about how much they mean to her. I can't help but think of Lyla’s sweet, innocent face and how she lights up whenever she talks about her dad and her home. The thought of something happening to them sends a wave of nausea rolling through my stomach.

Please don’t let their house be on fire.

I glance at the clock on my dashboard, watching the seconds tick by in agonizing slow motion. A thousand scenarios play out in my head—each one worse than the last. I can’t help but think about how quickly a fire can spread, how mercilessly it can consume everything in its path. And in those moments, all I can do is pray. Pray that this isn’t the worst-case scenario. Pray that the house is still standing when I arrive. Pray that everyone inside is safe.

But deep down, there's a gnawing fear that won’t be silenced. A fear that something terrible is already in motion, that I’m too late. And as I turn the final corner, my breath catches in my throat. The orange glow of flames in the distance is unmistakable, and my heart plummets as I realize one of my worst fears is coming true.

I should have known praying wouldn’t be enough. The moment I pull onto the street, the acrid smell of smoke assaults my senses, and my eyes are drawn to the source. A house engulfed in flames. My heart lurches painfully in my chest when I spot Ella, Nia’s sister, standing in the front yard watching her home be destroyed. Her usually neat blond hair is wild and disheveled, a clear sign of the panic that must have taken hold of her. She’s screaming something, but the roar of the fire and the blaring sirens drown out her words.

The scene is chaotic.

Neighbors have gathered, some holding their phones up, recording the devastation, while others stand frozen in shock. I barely register their presence as I scan the area frantically, my eyes searching for a glimpse of Lyla.

The absence of her little figure in the crowd sends a bolt of terror through me.

Where is she?

Where’s the little girl who should be clinging to her mother’s side?

A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I feel a wave of helplessness crash over me. The fire is raging, consuming the house with a relentless hunger, and all I can think about is getting to Lyla. Finding the little girl who means more to me than almost anyone else in this world.

My training kicks in, forcing me to focus, to push the panic down and assess the situation like the professional I am. But it’s hard—so damn hard—when the lives of people I care about are hanging in the balance.

“The kids!” Rich hollers, his voice hoarse from screaming. He is trying to break away from Ryder, who is holding him back by the neck. “My daughter and her friend are in the backyard.”

23

NIA

As soon as the tones start blaring, I know there is something wrong. It’s a cold shiver that races down my spine, the kind that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

I feel it in my bones, deep in my gut. A gnawing sense of dread that I can’t shake off. My heart skips a beat when the dispatcher reads out the address, and my worst fear is confirmed. Ella’s house. The fire is at Ella’s house.

Panic grips me like a vise, but there’s no time to process it. I’m moving before they even call for EMS, adrenaline surging through me like a tidal wave. My hands are shaking as I grab the radio, my voice frantic as I shout for Gem.

“Get in the fucking ambulance!” I scream, my voice cracking under the pressure.

I barely register the sound of the second set of tones dropping as I start pulling the ambulance out of the bay as soon as Gem is in the rig.

My foot slams on the accelerator, the engine roaring to life as I navigate the tight turns with a speed that would have been reckless under any other circumstances. But this isn’t just any call.

This is my sister’s house.

This is Lyla’s home.

Gem is barely in her seat, fumbling with her seat belt as she stares at me with wide eyes, concern etched across her face. “What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice trembling slightly. “They haven’t even toned us all the way yet.”

“That’s my sister’s house,” I gasp, my breaths coming in short, ragged bursts as I fight to keep the rising panic at bay. “The fire’s at my sister’s house.”

I don’t need to say anything else. The color drains from Gem’s face as the gravity of the situation sinks in. Every single call gets our undivided attention, our full effort. But this? This is different. When our family is in danger, when there is something that may hurt the people we love, there is nothing that will ever stand in the way. Nothing will stop us from getting to them, from saving them.