Lorraine's lungs burned as fiercely as the fire around her. Smoke clawed at her throat, the air heavy with heat and the acrid scent of charred wood. She turned, desperate, searching for anything, anything, to defend herself. Her fingers scraped against the floor, the sound drowned beneath the roar of the flames. She would not give up. Not here. Not like this.
And then… She felt a shadow blocking her. In the warmth of the fire, that shadow brought a much-appreciated shade and cool.
And then…A wet splash struck her cheek. Warm. Thick. The metallic scent hit her a heartbeat later.
Blood.
Her eyes widened just as a cry tore through the inferno, the man's final, strangled sound, followed by the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor.
Lorraine froze.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze.
Through the orange veil of smoke and fire, he stood there…like something carved out of myth.
Leroy.
Her husband.
