Chapter 22 Into the Fire for the Relics
It wasn't just the diary Alexander had taken. Edith's other belongings. All of them.
Isabella had once told her that some of Edith's possessions were locked away somewhere in the apartment. She didn't know exactly where. Alexander had never told her.
But they had to be here.
Those things were proof that Edith had existed in this world. They were the last traces she had left behind. And they were worth infinitely more than Caroline's own tainted, borrowed life.
The fire would consume everything. It would burn Edith's things to nothing. Not even ash would remain.
No. She couldn't let that happen.
The thought brought a terror that crushed every instinct to survive.
Caroline didn't know where the strength came from, but suddenly she was on her feet.
She covered her nose and mouth with her arm, squinting through the stinging smoke and tears, trying to get her bearings.
The next room. She could get out through there.
Alexander never allowed her any privacy in this place, so her room had been partitioned off with thin wooden panels.
Normally, she couldn't leave. But with the fire raging next door, those panels might have loosened.
Caroline staggered toward the wall and shoved against it with both hands.
She didn't know where the strength came from, but after two pushes, the wood actually gave.
Which also meant the fire on the other side had already reached the wall.
Without hesitation, she ran to the bed, grabbed the comforter, and dragged it into the bathroom. She turned the shower on full blast, soaking the fabric until it was drenched, then wrapped it around herself and charged back to the wall.
She clenched her teeth, stepped back, gathered every ounce of strength she had left, and slammed her body into the panel.
It collapsed with a thunderous crash.
The last barrier gave way, and smoke poured in like a flood. Caroline choked, barely able to keep her eyes open.
Flames were already devouring the carpet in the next room.
If she didn't move now, it would be too late.
She pulled the soaking comforter tighter around herself and ran toward the door, ignoring the fire spreading across the floor.
She clenched her teeth and pressed her hand against the scalding doorknob.
The stench of her own flesh burning hit her instantly.
"Ah!" She screamed, nearly yanking her hand back.
But no. Edith's diary was still in this apartment.
Even if it cost her life, she had to get it back.
Caroline forced herself to hold on, pressing down through the agony.
With a click, the door finally opened.
A wave of searing heat and smoke slammed into her, nearly knocking her off her feet.
Her eyes burned so badly she couldn't open them.
But there was only one thought in her mind: 'Edith's things can't burn.'
She shielded her face and plunged headlong into the inferno.
The hallway had become hell itself.
The expensive carpets, the oil paintings on the walls, the drapes—everything was on fire. The crystal chandelier overhead swayed dangerously, dripping molten glass like burning rain.
Smoke blanketed everything. Visibility was barely three feet.
The scorching air seared her lungs, as if trying to ignite her from the inside out.
"Edith… where did he put your things…"
She didn't know which way to go. She could barely remember the layout. But she crawled and stumbled forward anyway, heading in the direction she thought led to the master bedroom and study.
Flames licked at her pant legs. Her hair began to singe. The exposed skin on her arms blistered under the heat. Pain was everywhere.
But she didn't seem to feel it. She just kept moving, squinting through the smoke, trying to see.
Finally, she reached the door to the master bedroom—the room she had only been inside once.
The door had warped from the heat. The lock had failed. The frame was barely holding. Inside, flames roared, and the heat was unbearable.
Caroline felt a flicker of relief.
At least the door wasn't strong enough to keep her out.
She charged inside. The fire closed in around her immediately.
She headed for the walk-in closet, relying on memory.
The last time Alexander had forced himself on her, she remembered seeing a large closet in here.
If he had stored Edith's belongings anywhere, it would be there.
The closet was thick with smoke. Visibility was almost zero. She could barely make out rows of cabinets.
And the cabinets were burning.
Caroline's chest tightened. If Edith's things were really in here, she was running out of time.
She had no tools, no protection. She reached out and grabbed the handle of a drawer.
The stench of burning flesh hit her at the same moment as the pain.
She screamed and jerked her hand back. Her palm was charred black.
The fire was closing in, nearly reaching her wrist.
No. She had to protect these things.
She set her jaw and reached out again, using the last of her strength to yank the drawer open.
Inside were scorched photographs. A stuffed animal burned halfway through. A jewelry box reduced to charcoal.
And at the very back, a small metal box sat untouched. The material had protected it so far, but the lid was warped from the heat, and it was hot enough to brand skin.
A spark flared in Caroline's eyes.
She recognized that box.
Edith had given it to Alexander. She remembered him keeping important things inside.
And important things usually meant things Edith had given him.
Maybe the diary was in there.
She didn't care about the heat. She reached for it.
Just as her fingers were about to touch the metal, a burning beam overhead finally gave way and came crashing down toward her head.
Caroline barely had time to curl into herself.
In the next second, the beam's last support snapped, and it fell.
She closed her eyes in despair.
After trying so hard, was she still going to fail? Was she going to let Edith's things burn?
But the crushing blow never came.
Instead, something slammed into her from the side, knocking her to the ground and rolling with her across the floor.
The burning beam grazed their bodies and crashed into the carpet.
Caroline's head spun. Her ribs screamed in pain.
She struggled to lift her head and found herself staring into a pair of eyes—red from smoke, burning with fury.
It was Alexander.