I was still kneeling over the boy, my body acting as a shield against the falling embers.

“Can you walk, Elena?” he asked, his hand moving to support my shoulder.

“Yes,” I croaked, though my lungs burned with every short breath I took.

“Get behind me,” Alexander ordered, lifting Ethan into his strong arms.

“Keep the wet blanket over his head.”

I held the damp wool over Ethan’s face as Alexander stood up.

The ceiling above the mahogany desk suddenly gave way, sending a shower of burning plaster onto the floor.

We rushed through the shattered doorway, leaving the inferno of the study behind.

The main hallway of the east wing was filled with swirling black smoke, but the air was slightly cooler.

Alexander moved quickly, navigating the grand corridors with practiced ease.

I followed closely behind him, my hand clutching the hidden folder against my chest.

The estate’s security alarms were blaring, a high-pitched siren that echoed off the marble walls.

Sprinkler heads in the ceiling were active, raining cold water down on us as we ran.