A wall of bright orange flame burst into life between us and Beatrice.

The heat was immediate and blistering, scorching the hairs on my arms.

Through the wall of fire, I could hear Beatrice laughing, a wild, manic sound.

“Burn, Audrey!” she screamed.

“Burn like your father did!”

The smoke began to rise, thick and black, filling the rafters.

Liam dragged me up the steps of the stage.

The old wood groaned under our weight, dry and ready to collapse.

“We have to get Chloe!” I gasped, the smoke burning my lungs.

We scrambled across the stage floor.

Chloe was thrashing violently, her chair tipping precariously close to the edge of the burning floorboards.

Liam reached her first, pulling his pocket knife from his trousers.

He sliced through the ropes binding her wrists.

I reached for the heavy duct tape on her mouth and ripped it away.

Chloe let out a sobbing, ragged breath.

“She’s going to kill us,” Chloe cried, coughing violently.

“The doors are locked from the outside!”

“We’ll find another way,” Liam said, hoisting her to her feet.