Fragile Sanctuary (Sparrow Falls Book 1)

My first thought at the cracking sound was bullet. That some wet-behind-the-ears deputy had decided to take their shot. But as Silas stumbled back a step, I realized I was wrong.

The entire house had been burned beyond recognition, so it was no wonder the floor was unstable and had given way.

The world dropped away as I saw them start to fall. Silas’s grip on Rho’s hair was so strong she didn’t have a prayer of breaking free. I yelled her name as if that would do something, as if I could change the course of what was about to happen.

I knew from the blueprints that the house had a basement below the ground floor. But I had no clue how deep it was. Was it a mere eight feet, or was it something deeper? How would they fall? What would they land on?

My mind worked out every twisted scenario as the horror played out in front of me. But my body was already moving, rushing forward, trying to do something, anything.

I leapt onto the cabin’s frame in what looked like it had once been an entryway. I charged forward toward the gaping hole in the floor. But a hand caught my vest and tugged me back hard.

“Don’t,” Trace barked. “You’ll go over with them.”

He was right. But I didn’t care. Wherever Rho was, that’s where I wanted to be. The cost didn’t matter. Because she was my sanctuary. I’d just never realized how fragile it all was.

The house made a series of noises that sounded like they’d come from a horror movie. A plume of dust and soot rose from the hole in an ominous cloud. Dread churned in my gut. “I’ve gotta get to her.”

“I know,” Trace said, gripping my vest tighter. Pain dug grooves into his face as he looked over my shoulder into the depths below. “But we need to be smart about it. Get gear.”

“I’ve got some, boss,” a young deputy called. “Our search and rescue stuff.”

I whirled around. “Toss me a harness.”

Trace eyed me. “You’ve had training?”

“The basics,” I said as the officer tossed me what looked like a rock-climbing harness. “We’re often searching for victims.”

“Boss,” the guy said, lifting another harness.

Trace held out a hand for it.

In a matter of seconds, we’d geared up, done a quick check for each other, and hooked into a belay system with two other officers.

“EMTs are five minutes out,” Deputy Hansen called.

I just hoped like hell they got here in time. “Anyone got a headlamp?”

“Yeah,” the same young deputy said.

A fuckin’ Boy Scout. But I was grateful. He tossed it to me from his gear bag, and I put it over my head as Trace fixed a first-aid bag around his body.

“Belay on,” I called to the deputy behind me.

“On belay,” he answered.

Then, I was moving toward the opening. The charred floor groaned beneath me as I walked, and I knew it could give way at any second. I needed to move quickly but carefully.

My ribs squeezed around my lungs as I approached the edge. The beam of light from the headlamp and the sun overhead revealed a horrific tableau. Burned wreckage. So much soot that it made it hard to make out what was what.

Then I saw him. Silas had fallen awkwardly. His legs were sprawled in a way I knew meant broken bones, and his neck rested at an unnatural angle. His eyes were open wide but completely unseeing. Gone. The Hangman, the demon who’d haunted me, the one who had stolen my sister’s life, was no more. But I felt no relief, had no time to take that in and let it land.

My gaze was instantly searching again. It was the glimpse of one pink-and-teal flower that had me stopping. The toe of one of those damn boots. My heart stopped altogether as I took in the entirety of Rho.

She wasn’t moving. Not even the slightest bit. I couldn’t see from here if she was breathing. But her eyes were closed.

“Fuck.” The word clogged in my throat, tangled with tears and the sob trying to break free. “Going over,” I shouted. “Slack.”

The deputy gave it to me, and I went over the edge. The way down was a painstaking volley of words with my belay. Trying to get to Rho and scared out of my mind she wouldn’t be there when I arrived.

Finally, my feet hit the cement floor, cluttered with debris. “I’m down,” I shouted.

I instantly felt the slack in my tether as Trace landed next to me. But I was already moving, running to Rho, tripping over beams and God knew what else. I fell to my knees as I reached her, not giving a damn about the jarring pain.

Soot covered her beautiful face. I reached out, my hand stopping just shy of her neck. Blood pooled around the wound there, her life force spilling out.

“Do it,” Trace choked out.

I placed my fingers on her neck, closed my eyes, and prayed. The moment they pressed into her flesh, Rho let out a soft moan.

Relief and fear coursed through me in equal measure. “Rho, can you hear me?”

Her eyelids fluttered until they finally opened. “Hurts,” she croaked, trying to shift.

“Don’t move,” I ordered, panic surging. We had no idea what sort of injuries Rho might have, and I wasn’t about to risk her spine.

“Anson.” Her voice was weak, and her eyelids drooped.

I took her hand, squeezing. “Don’t close your eyes. Stay with me. Help’s almost here.”

Rho’s eyelids fluttered again, and I saw her struggle. Felt it.

“Don’t, Reckless. Don’t leave me.” I squeezed her hand harder. A tear slipped free, landing on Rho’s cheek and turning the ash pure black. “I love you.”

But Rho didn’t answer. She didn’t speak at all.