Tatiana POV

“Some fires are not meant to kill, they are meant to cleanse.”

I press my hand against the wound on my thigh; blood seeps between my fingers, warm and steady.

My ears ring from the gunshot, my heartbeat louder than the roaring fire.

The guard who’d dragged me out moments ago lies still beside me, his weapon half-buried under his arm. I reach for it, hissing at the movement, and drag the gun free.

The smell of smoke was the first thing that reached me. Acrid, thick, tasting of ...