“There is air down here.”

We huddled together in the dark space beneath the wet wool.

Outside our small shelter, the fire roared like a wild animal.

I could hear the glass in the windows cracking from the heat.

The sound of the security alarms was distant now, drowned out by the noise of the flames.

I squeezed Ethan tighter.

My heart ached for him.

He was only ten years old, and he had already seen so much pain.

I thought of his father, Alexander.

Alexander had been searching for a mother for his son.

He had brought these five wealthy, elegant women to the estate.

He thought they could provide a legacy for his family.

But none of them cared about the boy.

They only cared about the wealth and the name.

They had run at the first sign of danger, leaving a child to burn.

“Elena,” Ethan whispered under the blanket.

“I’m scared.”

“I know,” I said, kissing the top of his wet head.

“But I have you. I am not going to let anything happen to you.”