Rissa’s POV

The night air was heavy with smoke and blood. Every breath scraped my throat raw, the taste of fire still clinging to the back of my tongue. I stumbled out of the collapsed doorway, boots crunching on blackened rubble, knees close to giving out.

“Keep moving.” Mark’s hand clamped on my arm, steady and unyielding. His pull was the only reason I stayed upright when my body begged to fold.

Weakness was a luxury. Behind us, fire devoured everything, swallowing walls and ...