\[Rosco’s POV\]
I pull in front of the venue where our company dinner would be held and take it in. Oh, how I didn’t want to fucking be here while Denali was at home waiting for me. However, because she insisted that I attend, I was here.
Sighing, I climb out and throw my keys at valet parking before heading inside, where my parents and Charlie stand with Nadia. When they spot me, their expressions shift, and I immediately know that something is off.
“Are you that shocked to see me?” I ask, probing them. “I can turn and..."
“Rosco,” my father says, coming up to me and holding out his phone. “I think you should see this.”
Frowning, I hold out a hand and take his offering, then bring it up so that I can see the pictures that are plastered on the screen.
Instantly, my anger spikes, and I fight the urge to crush the fucking phone in my hand.
“Who?” I growl, passing it back to my father. “Has the balls to try to slander my wife like this?”
As I speak, my gaze shifts to Nadia, who is half hidden behind my father.
“Was it you?” I snap, reaching around him and grabbing her wrist. “It was, right? Is this your way of retaliating for earlier? Do you think I can't ruin your reputation the same fucking way you're trying to ruin Denali's?"
“Rosco!” My mother gasps. “What are you doing by treating her like that?”
What was I doing? I was taking care of the problem. I wasn’t a fucking idiot and knew that she was the only person who would benefit from Denali’s reputation being ruined. And if it wasn’t her, then it was that bitch, Anastasia.
“Rosco,” Nadia whimpers. “You’re hurting me.”
“Rosco,” my mother repeats. “Let her go right now!”
Ignoring her command, I pull Nadia toward me and then grab her chin and clutch it until her eyes grow wide with shock.
“R-rosco,” she pleads. “It truly wasn’t me!”
Opening my mouth, I prepare to argue, but stop as my phone begins to go off. Fuck! What if it was Denali? Was she already aware of what was starting to go around about her? Dammit, I didn't want her to have to stress over such a matter.
“This isn’t finished!” I hiss, pulling my phone from my pocket and taking in the number. “Hello?” I announce as my heart squeezes painfully. “What is it?”
“There’s a fire at the beach house.” A woman’s voice announces, causing my heart to plummet to my feet. “Emergency personnel are on their way.”
“No,” I gasp, feeling true fear begin to crash into me. “How?”
"Rosco, what is it?” My father asks, touching my shoulder. “What happened?”
“I gotta go!” I hiss, beginning to move.
I nearly take out a family that is coming in as I push out the door of the venue and make my way to the valet parker.
“My keys!” I snarl, holding out a hand.
“S-sir,” the man gasps. “Just a moment.”
As he speaks, he begins to rummage through a list, and it seems like time is passing way too fucking slowly. With each passing minute, anything could happen to Denali.
Unable to wait, I begin to move, yanking my jacket off, then my shirt, and finally my tie. Once they’re out of the way, I shift and break into a run, going as quickly as I can, and when the smell of smoke and burning wood reaches me, I draw on all my power until I’m crashing through the large gate surrounding the beach house.
‘Denali!’ I call through mindlink in desperate hope that she will hear. ‘Please answer me!’
I continue to move as I’m met with nothing but silence, and when the beach house comes into view, all I can see is fire and smoke.
‘No,’ I hiss inwardly, unable to believe that something like this can happen in such a short amount of time. 'Please, goddess, no.’
Feeling like my world is crashing down around me, I begin to move, making my way toward the fire while the sound of sirens reaches me, followed by bright flashing lights. However, I don’t stop, and before I can even fucking think about it, I’m crashing through the door and desperately searching until I spot a figure collapsed on the ground with a burning pillar laying on her.
‘Denali!’ I call, rushing forward and shifting back into my human form. “Denali, please wake up.”
Reaching down, I grab the pillar while ignoring the fire that licks at my hands and begin to force it up until I have it up high enough to send it crashing to the side. Once it is out of the way, I reach down and pick up Denali and hold her against me as I begin to move, only to be stopped by more of the building collapsing.
“Fuck!” I growl, looking around for an exit that isn’t blocked by burning debris. “Come on.”
I continue to look until my eyes come to rest on a window that has been blown out, and then I’m moving and leaping, sending us both crashing through it.
When I hit the ground, firefighters and paramedics rush toward me and immediately grab Denali from my arms and start to work on her.
“Sir,” one says as I move to grab her. “She needs medical attention.”
Nodding, I watch as a paramedic starts to pump at her chest, doing everything he can to get her heart working again while I helplessly watch.
How… How the fuck could she be like this? Because I left her! This was all my fault! Every time I left her alone, something bad happened. If she pulled through, I would keep her by my side at all times.
Panic growing, I attempt to move forward again, but am stopped by an officer.
“Mr. Torres,” he announces, drawing my attention away from Denali as she is being lifted onto a stretcher and carried to an ambulance. “I need you to answer some questions.”
“Questions,” I repeat, narrowing my gaze. “Don’t you see that my wife is being taken to the hospital? Do you really think I want to spend time answering your fucking questions when she needs me?”
“It won’t take long,” he insists while the paramedics slam the ambulance doors shut.
“Then it can wait!” I snap, shoving past him and rushing to the ambulance. When I reach, I yank one of the doors open and climb inside while the paramedics hook up monitors and IVs to Denali watch me. “What?” I hiss, taking in the scene. “I’m her husband.”
“R-right,” one of the paramedics squeaks.
“How is she?” I continue when they keep their shocked gazes on me. “Shouldn’t you be focusing on her and not me?”
“She has sustained internal injuries and will need surgery for a collapsed lung,” one explains. “We’ve managed to stabilize her for now, but time isn’t on our side.”
“Not on your side?” I repeat, trying to ignore the fear that is beginning to trickle into my heart. “What the fuck does that even mean?”
“Her lungs are filling with blood,” the other paramedic explains.
“If she dies,” I hiss, reaching out and grabbing her hand so I can begin to share my energy with her in hopes it will help her. “You’ll be joining her.”