The first thing I felt was heat.
Not warmth.
Heat.
Alive. Violent. Hungry.
It crawled across the walls, swallowing everything in its path. The smoke wrapped around me in suffocating waves, scraping down my throat, stealing every breath my lungs begged for.
My chest tightened.
My vision blurred.
My knees buckled.
But I didn't panic.
I didn't scream.
I didn't regret my decision.
If anything…
I felt satisfied.
Because I knew the fire would draw out exactly who I needed.
And it worked.
Right before consciousness slipped out of my fingers, I heard a voice echo in my fading senses—
"CRYSTAL! Crystal, please!"
Desperate. Shattered. Terrified.
I smiled—just a little—before the world went dark.
---
When I Woke Up Again…
Everything was quiet.
Soft.
Cold.
Clean.
The hospital ceiling came into view like a distant sky. My limbs felt weak, my eyes heavy, but I could still think clearly.
Perfect.
"Crystal?"
The voice cracked—deep, breaking, on the verge of falling apart.
Liam.
He burst into view like a man possessed. His eyes were red, his breath unsteady, his entire body shaking as if he'd run through hell to find me.
And he had.
He grabbed me instantly, dragging me into a crushing embrace, burying his face into the crook of my neck.
"You—" His voice cracked. "You scared me. I thought—I thought I lost you."
His tears fell hot against my skin.
I let him hold me.
I didn't push him away.
I didn't speak.
I didn't pretend.
For a moment… just a moment… I let myself lean into him.
His arms were warm.
Safe.
Familiar.
My chest ached in a strange way I wasn't ready to name.
"I'm okay," I whispered eventually, even though we both knew I shouldn't have been.
He slowly pulled back, brushing away my hair with trembling fingers.
"You shouldn't talk yet," he murmured. "Just rest. Please."
I nodded.
He laid me gently on the bed, tucking the blanket around me as if I were porcelain. Then he wiped his eyes again and promised softly:
"I'll get you something to eat. Don't move, Crystal. I'll be back."
He stepped out.
The door closed.
And only then… did I let out a breath.
Not of relief.
But of calculation.
The Other Pair of Eyes
Someone else had been watching me long before Liam entered the room.
Ethan Thatcher.
He stood outside the glass window, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. His jaw was tight, stiff with anger and something fiercer.
Regret.
Jealousy.
Possessiveness.
He hated that Liam saved me.
Hated that he wasn't the one who ran through fire for me.
But he also knew Liam and I had a past.
Men could sense another man's obsession—it was an instinct.
And Ethan was no fool.
But he didn't act.
Not yet.
Not until he understood the whole board.
Now was his turn.
The moment Liam walked away, Ethan pushed open the door and entered the room.
He didn't rush toward me.
No.
He approached slowly… as though every step toward me held meaning.
He stopped at the edge of my bed, eyes locked with mine.
"Crystal…" His voice was low, controlled, but trembling beneath the surface. "What happened to you?"
I let my breathing hitch just slightly.
Let my eyes shimmer with vulnerability—real enough, but shaped with purpose.
"I think…"
I paused, letting fear slip into my words.
"I think someone is trying to kill me."
Silence.
Then Ethan's jaw tightened—hard.
He reached for my hand, taking my palm into both of his, holding it as if it were something fragile and precious.
The intensity in his eyes made the room feel smaller.
"I'll find out who did this," he said quietly.
"And when I do… I'll make them pay."
He leaned forward and pulled me into a firm embrace, one hand on my back, steady, protective.
I rested my chin on his shoulder.
And smiled.
A slow, hidden, wicked smile.
Because everything was falling into place.
The fire.
The panic.
The chaos.
The emotions stirred.
The protectors awakened.
A masterpiece indeed.