A loud crack echoed through the room.

I looked up.

A massive wooden beam in the ceiling had fractured.

Sparks rained down, igniting the remaining dry areas of the carpet.

The exit was completely gone now, replaced by a solid wall of fire.

The temperature in the room was rising by the second.

I struggled to pull the wet blanket out of the sink.

It felt like it weighed fifty pounds now, soaked to the core.

I hauled it over my shoulder, the cold water dripping down my back.

I crawled back toward the mahogany desk, my knees scraping against the wood.

“Ethan!” I shouted.

“I’m here!” his small voice came back, thin and breathless.

He was coughing constantly now, a dry, hacking sound.

I reached the desk and threw the heavy, wet wool over both of us.

The sudden coldness of the water was a shock against my hot skin.

I pulled Ethan tight against my chest under the heavy canopy of the blanket.

I tucked the wet edges around his feet and back.

“Breathe slowly,” I whispered, pressing my wet apron to his nose.