Damaged (Boys of Winter #2) - Sheridan Anne Page 0,143

My head spins so much that I can’t even work out who’s calling my name.

“WINTER? WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

I shakily get to my feet and wobble on my heels, more clearly able to see the horrifying destruction around me. People lay injured on the ground, screaming in agony while parents run around, yelling their children’s names and fearing the worst.

The flames grow quicker, licking up the side of the building as the smoke gets caught in my throat. We have to get out of here before it’s too late, but the stairs are gone, completely torn to pieces. We’re in an underground ballroom. There’s no emergency exit in a room like this. We’re fucking trapped in here.

What the hell am I going to do?

This had to be another attack. Someone let off that explosion, someone in this room who knew exactly where I was on the steps, but Carver … oh, fuck. Carver. He was standing right beside me, in the middle of trying to protect me with his life. If he’s hurt …

My breath comes in short, sharp gasps. I have to help, but I don’t know how. Children are bleeding on the ground while others are caught under big chunks of concrete.

Blood pours from the cut on my elbow and my head continues to spin. I won’t be helping anyone if I pass out from blood loss. I bend down to grip the bottom of my skirt, wiping the tears and dirt off my face. I tear a long, thick piece of tulle from the bottom of my gown and start wrapping it tightly around the cut on my elbow, doing my best to bandage it up. It’s a shitty job, but for now, it’ll have to do.

I start aimlessly moving through the room, having absolutely no idea how to help, but knowing I have to do something. People are dying, children are lost, and a shitload of people are far too close to suffering the effects of smoke inhalation.

“WINTER?”

It sounds like Cruz but my head is too foggy, and the smoke is getting thicker.

As I scan the room, I find a little girl sprawled in the middle of the dance floor. She screams in agony, her leg at a distorted angle as adults race past her, crushing her fingers beneath their shoes and knocking into her, not even noticing her there.

I race toward her, my heart breaking for this sweet, sweet little girl.

A loud crack echoes through the room and everyone seems to stop and look around, trying to figure out where the sound is coming from but when nothing happens, the chaos continues. I shove people out of the way. “MOVE,” I roar, pushing them hard, not giving a shit as they tumble to the ground. All that matters is that little girl.

“WINTER.”

King, maybe. I don’t know. It’s too loud in here.

The cracking sound continues, and having absolutely no idea what it is, I just keep running until I’m crashing down beside the little girl. She looks up at me with wide eyes, eyes that look so damn familiar, so blue and beautiful that in an instant, I know this has to be King’s baby sister, Caitlin.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” I promise her, desperately looking around and knowing that’s going to be a shitload harder than it sounds. There are no stairs out, no lift or escalator. We’re just left here in a fiery pit to perish.

I reach down and grab her, seeing that her hand is crushed and her leg more than just broken. She must be in agony. The sharp squeal that tears through her as I grip her arm and desperately pull her up is proof of that. “I know it hurts,” I cry for her, “but I have to move you. I have to get you out.”

Tears stream down her face as she nods, showing me just how strong and brave she is, just like her big brother.

As I get her standing on one foot, someone bumps into us, sending her sprawling back down to the ground. “FUCK,” I yell, desperately grabbing at Caitlin and pulling her into my arms. I lift her and get her to wrap her arms around my neck then call over the deafening noise for her to hold on as best as she can while the cut on my arm screams in protest. Her legs get tangled in the tulle of my dress, but I don’t stop to fix it. I have