7th Circle, or what was left of it, engulfed in flames. The information quickly snapped back to the front of my mind as I watched my venue burn down. The gas leak. The explosion. It was a goddamn miracle I was still alive at all.
The ringing in my ears was still there but not as bad as when I’d woken up, so I ignored it and craned my neck to see why I couldn't move. As best I could tell, a section of the front wall—complete with steel supports—had landed partly on top of me.
My injuries weren’t as bad as I'd initially thought, and it only took a bit of pain-filled wiggling to drag myself clear of the weight. When I was free, I was able to push myself into a sitting position, so I didn't think I'd broken anything major.
With my hearing slowly returning, I could make out sirens in the distance. Probably the fire department. Not that there would be anything left to save by the time they arrived. The gas explosion had done a thorough job. If I'd still been inside, I would be little more than bloody, chargrilled chunks now.
Everything hurt. My whole body, my head, but mostly my heart.
I just sat there in the middle of the parking lot, surrounded by smoldering debris under the bright morning sun while my club burned down. Except I wasn't watching my club burn. In my mind, I was right back on the front lawn of the Lockhart mansion, watching it burn to the ground, fully aware of how many innocents had been trapped inside. Knowing it was my fault.
My gaze remained locked on the burning building for a long time as the memories haunted my mind. I didn't move as the fire trucks came skidding into the parking lot or when an EMT crouched down beside me and started asking questions.
Logically, I knew I was in shock. I'd had plenty of near-death encounters in my life, but this hit me in a different way. It wasn’t just an attempt to kill me... it was an attempt to terrify me, and to me, that was a hundred times worse.
The EMT was getting annoying, and I blinked slowly to break my trance and shift my glare to the well-meaning medic. He was spared the scathing words sitting on my tongue, though, when a familiar black Ferrari came screaming into the parking lot.
Zed was out of his car in a shot, not even turning off the engine. He sprinted across the gravel, dodging debris from the building, and fell to his knees in a dramatic skid in front of me.
"Dare, holy shit. Thank God." He knocked the EMT out of the way and hauled me into his arms, hugging me like an anaconda. My body screamed with pain, though, and I let out a groan of protest.
Zed released me as quick as he'd grabbed me, his face a picture of alarm. "Fuck, I'm so sorry. Shit, you're hurt. Where are you hurt?"
"That's what I'm trying to work out," the annoyed EMT snapped.
Zed glared absolute death at the man, then gave me an accusing scowl. "Cooperate with the medic, Dare."
"I'm fine," I muttered, despite how my limbs had just started trembling uncontrollably. "I was almost out when the explosion happened."
"Almost out," Zed snapped back. "You're fucking bleeding and look like death warmed up. Can you stand? We need to get you into the ambulance."
"Agreed," the EMT added, giving me a frown.
I was too fucking wrecked to even argue. I just let Zed wrap his arm around me and support my weight as I gritted my teeth and found my feet.
"No, you shouldn't be walking," the EMT said with a shake of his head. "I'll get the gurney. Just wait a second."
I grunted with the effort but took a little of my weight back from Zed. "Hell no," I growled. "I'm not getting strapped into a fucking gurney right now. Some motherfucker just exploded my club. They declared war on the Timberwolves. No fucking way will I do anything but walk out of here on my own damn feet."
Zed hesitated, his expression torn. "Dare..."
"No," I snapped. "No. I guarantee whoever did this is watching right now. They set this up to test me, Zed. But now I'm just mad as hell."
The EMT looked conflicted, but when I took a couple more pain-filled steps forward, he threw his hands up in defeat. I didn't mind getting checked over in his ambulance—I needed it—but I would walk my ass over there and let it be a show of strength.
Zed kept his arm around my waist, though, and I let him.
"You're so fucking stubborn," he whispered as we stepped over broken, scorched bricks and twisted metal.
I snorted a laugh. "You love it. Did you get my email about my phone?"
He nodded. "Yeah. I saw you'd emailed from the 7th Circle server, then the alarm company called to say there was a fire... I panicked. When I saw the flames as I drove up, I thought—"
"Stop it," I told him firmly. "I'm not so easy to kill."
Zed just shook his head. "You're still human, Dare. Even though you act like you're not. This was close. Really fucking close."
We'd reached the ambulance, and he helped me climb inside and sit on the narrow bed so the EMT could do his thing. Neither Zed nor I spoke any more while my medic—Gareth—checked me over and treated my myriad of minor lacerations and burns.
Around the time he was finishing up, telling me that I needed to get checked out for internal bleeding, the fire chief came striding over to us with his helmet in his hand. He'd worked on the Shadow Grove Fire Department for years, and we'd dealt with him plenty of times over fire safety regulations for the clubs.
"Hades, sir," he greeted me with a nod. "Zed. It's not looking good for the structure. Any ideas what caused this?"
I grimaced. "Yeah. Gas leak."
Zed's head snapped around, his expression startled.
The fire chief didn't notice, though, just nodded and rubbed his hand over his beard. "Yeah, that fits the pattern of destruction. Accidental or..."
My gaze flattened and my jaw tightened. "Or."
He winced, then gave a nod. "Understood. We'll keep working to put out the fire, but I reckon you'll need to do a total rebuild. There's just not much left of the framework."
"Thanks Mitch," Zed said in a rough voice. "Appreciate your work."
The fire chief gave us another nod, then hesitated a moment, his gaze taking in the many patches of dressing dotted all over me.
"If you don't mind me saying, sir, you're goddamn immortal. That blast should have killed you, and you've only got a couple of scrapes to show for it." He let out a low whistle, shaking his head. "Damn blessed, you are."
I snorted a laugh, seeing real humor in that statement. Blessed? Not even close. More like cursed and making the best of it.
Mitch headed back over to where his crew worked to try and extinguish the blaze, and I closed my eyes for a second, searching for more strength deep inside. He was wrong, though... I didn't believe I was meant to die in that blast. It was just a test. A game. Someone trying to get inside my head and make me scared.
"A gas leak?" Zed repeated after a couple of moments, and I flicked my lids open once more. "Are you sure?"
I gave a small nod. "Positive. I bet when they do their investigation, they'll find the gas line behind the oven severed."
Zed swallowed heavily, looking sick. "Fuck."
I refused to be taken to the hospital by ambulance but wasn't dumb enough to refuse treatment altogether. Instead, Zed drove me over in his Ferrari. The whole way there, he kept one hand on my grazed knee like he was scared I would disappear if he wasn't holding onto me at all times.