She started dialing numbers on her phone—calling contacts, activating her network. First the fire chief, who she'd met at several charity events. Then the mayor's office. Then the head of emergency services."This is Mia Richardson," she said into the phone, her voice clipped and professional despite the fear coursing through her veins. "There's a fire at the construction site on Seventh and Main. A firefighter has entered the building alone. I need emergency response there immediately. Yes, I know units are tied up. I don't care. Redirect them. This is a priority."She made call after call, pulling every string she had, using every ounce of her family's influence to get help to that building as fast as possible.But even as she did, she was acutely aware that none of it might matter. All her money, all her connections, all her power—none of it could protect Alex from what he'd just run into.The younger cop approached her hesitantly. "Miss Richardson, I... I really am sorry. About be

Alex looked at the stairs leading up—barely visible through the smoke. Every instinct, every rational thought told him it was suicide. He was at his limit. His hands were ruined. His lungs were full of smoke. Going up would almost certainly mean he wouldn't come back down.But an old man was up there. Trapped. Dying."Damn it," Alex whispered. He looked at the young man. "Get out of here. Crawl, limp, whatever you have to do. Get out now.""You'll go? You'll save him?""I'll try," Alex said. "No promises. Now move!"The man nodded and started dragging himself toward the exit, using his good leg to push and his arms to pull.Alex turned and looked up at the smoke-filled stairs. He took a deep breath—immediately regretted it as his lungs protested—and started climbing.Each step was agony. His leg was screaming. His hands left bloody prints on the railing. The smoke got thicker with each floor he climbed.Finally, he reached what he thought was the highest completed floor. A door at the

The paramedics were standing by with stretchers and equipment, ready to rush in the moment Alex was freed. If he was still alive to be freed.The fire engines had finally arrived—three of them, lights flashing, sirens winding down. The crew poured out, gearing up, ready to assist with the rescue and contain what was left of the fire.Captain James Morrison stepped out of the lead vehicle, his face set in stern lines. He spotted the senior officer in charge—Captain Davies—and strode over with his characteristic confidence."Davies," Morrison greeted, his tone clipped. "Sorry we're late. We were tied up at the station. Had to deal with some personnel issues before we could respond."Davies turned to look at Morrison, and his expression was murderous."Personnel issues?" Davies repeated, his voice dangerously quiet."Yeah, one of my guys decided he was too good to show up for work," Morrison said, oblivious to the rage building in Davies's eyes. "Thought I'd let him slack off just becaus

Captain Davies, the head of the police unit, stood a few feet away, watching the confrontation between Mia and his cousin Morrison with growing dread. He shook his head slowly, knowing there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop what was about to happen.Morrison was his cousin—they'd grown up together, had Sunday dinners at each other's houses. But against the fury of Mia Vinda Richardson? Davies was powerless. Completely, utterly powerless.I tried to warn him, Davies thought miserably. I told him what she said. But it's too late now.Mia stood before Morrison, her chest heaving with barely controlled rage. Her perfectly manicured hands—now dirty with ash and streaked with tears—were clenched into fists at her sides.Morrison opened his mouth, trying to find words that might defuse the situation. "Miss Richardson, I understand you're upset, but—"CRACK.The slap echoed across the entire scene, silencing every conversation, every movement. Mia's hand had connected with Morrison'

Everything hurt.That was Alex's first conscious thought as awareness slowly returned. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton, his body ached from what felt like a thousand different places, and there was a persistent beeping sound that was driving him crazy.He tried to open his eyes, but they felt heavy, crusty. After several attempts, his eyelids finally cracked open, revealing harsh fluorescent lights that made him wince.A hospital room. White walls, white ceiling, medical equipment surrounding him. An IV drip was attached to his arm. Bandages wrapped around his hands, his chest, probably other places he couldn't see.What happened? Alex thought groggily. The fire... the building... the old man...It started coming back in fragments—the burning construction site, the people he'd saved, the roof collapsing. He remembered pushing the elderly man to safety, remembered seeing the massive iron beam falling toward him, remembered—The door to his room burst open, interrupting hi