THROUGH FIRE AND CODE

THROUGH FIRE AND CODE
The building stood at the end of a sloping driveway, shrouded by dense trees and tall hedges. It looked like any other private care facility—whitewashed walls, tinted windows, trimmed grass. Discreet. Quiet. But I knew better. Beneath that sterile exterior was the secret Victoria wanted to bury.

Adrian.

This was where she was hiding him.

I stayed low behind the treeline, eyes scanning every inch of the perimeter. Two security guards stood at the front gate, shoulders stiff, eyes trained ahead. Not your average hospital staff. These men were ex-military, hired muscle.

Victoria didn’t trust anyone with Adrian’s safety—not unless she could control them.

I stepped further into the shadows and pulled out my phone.

The call connected on the first ring.

“Please tell me you’re not about to do what I think you’re about to do,” Ethan said.

“I found him, Ethan. This is where she’s keeping Adrian.”

There was a pause.

“Okay. Talk to me. What do you see?”

“Two guards at the front. No patrols around the side. Cameras on the corners of the building. I can’t get past them.”

“Place your phone near the gate camera. I need ten seconds to sync.”

I crept toward the edge of the trees and inched forward, holding the phone toward the lens. The guard didn’t notice—his back was turned, distracted by something on his comms. I held my breath.

“Done,” Ethan said. “I’m in the system. Give me a second… okay, looks like their security operates on a digital grid. I can override door locks, camera feeds, maybe even the sprinkler system. But you’ll need a distraction.”

“A distraction,” I repeated.

I looked around. Dry leaves littered the side of the facility near what looked like a tool shed.

A thought clicked into place.

“I’ve got an idea.”

“Sophie—don’t do anything insane.”

I was already moving.

I looped around the building until I reached the shed, jimmied the door open with a broken piece of pipe, and rummaged through the cluttered tools. A dusty red gasoline can sat in the corner. It felt half-full.

Perfect.

I moved quickly, pouring a trail of gas along the side path and up to the edge of the building. Then I struck a match from the emergency box on the wall and dropped it onto the trail.

The fire snapped to life, crawling with a greedy hiss.

Smoke curled into the sky within seconds, setting off alarms. Sirens blared.

From my hiding spot, I watched the guards snap into motion, yelling into their radios.

They rushed toward the smoke, leaving the front entrance unguarded.

“Ethan,” I whispered into the phone. “Now.”

“Opening the door in three… two…”

A metallic click echoed from the gate.

I ran.

I slipped inside and flattened myself against the interior wall. Alarms were still ringing, and flashing red lights pulsed along the ceiling.

I moved quickly, staying low, ducking past corridors and listening for footsteps. I had no idea how many guards were stationed inside, but I couldn’t afford to be caught.

“Ethan,” I whispered, keeping my phone close. “I’m in. Where do I go?”

“Based on the blueprints, the clinic is divided into four wings. Adrian’s name is tagged under ‘private convalescence,’ restricted access, southeast wing.”

I reached the corridor intersection. To my left: general ward. To my right: southeast.

Bingo.

I crept forward, heart pounding, each step echoing louder than the last.

Ahead, two more guards were heading my way—likely investigating the alarm.

I ducked into a supply closet just as they passed, their boots thudding against the tile.

“I don’t care if it’s a false alarm,” one of them muttered. “We’re not paid to ask questions. Just check the perimeter and report.”

Once their voices faded, I slipped back out and hurried down the corridor.

Every door I passed was marked with names—some in use, some empty. Finally, I reached the last one. No name on the plaque. Just a number: Room 204B.

I reached for the handle and tugged. Nothing. Locked.

“Ethan,” I hissed into the mic, panic flaring. “It’s not opening.”

“I’m working on it—just keep still.”

Footsteps echoed from around the corner. Voices.

Closer.

I flattened myself against the wall, heart hammering, praying the shadows wouldn’t betray me.

Then—click.

The lock released. I yanked the door open just as two guards turned the hallway bend. I slipped inside and closed it gently, pressing my back to the door, breath caught in my throat.

The handle had a fingerprint lock.

“Ethan—need your magic again.”

“Give me a sec… got it. Try now.”

I pressed the handle.

It clicked open.

I exhaled and stepped inside.

The room was dim, quiet. The curtains were drawn, casting long shadows across the polished floor. A heart monitor beeped steadily in the corner. The scent of antiseptic and lavender filled the air.

Then I saw him.

Adrian.

He lay on the hospital bed, motionless.

Tubes ran from his arms to an IV drip, and a heart monitor traced his rhythm—slow but steady.

He looked… peaceful. Too peaceful.

I stepped closer, my breath caught somewhere between pain and disbelief. Bruises marked his temple. A bandage wrapped around his torso. His skin was pale.

But he was alive.

Tears burned behind my eyes, but I held them back. There wasn’t time for emotion. Not yet.

I reached for his hand, brushing my fingers gently over his knuckles.

“You’re still fighting,” I whispered. “I knew you would be.”

The silence in the room felt like a fragile thing, heavy and sacred.

Then…

His fingers twitched.

Once.

Then again.

“Adrian?” I breathed.

His eyelids fluttered.

I stepped closer, heart in my throat.

But before he could wake, before he could speak—

The door creaked behind me.

Footsteps.

Voices.

No time.

I ducked behind the curtain, holding my breath, watching as shadows passed through the door.

They didn’t notice me. Not yet.

But I knew this fragile window of peace wouldn’t last.

Because if Victoria found out I was here, she wouldn’t just silence me.

She’d make sure I never left this building again.