Adriana’s first sensation was heat. Not fire — that had already passed — but the lingering burn in her lungs, as if every breath dragged smoke deeper into her chest. She coughed, body convulsing, the sound muffled by rubble pressing down on her ribs.
Her eyes fluttered open. Darkness. Not complete, but broken by faint, shifting light filtering through cracks in the collapsed ceiling. Ash drifted like snow, settling in her hair, her lashes, her mouth.
For a moment she couldn’t move. Panic clawed at her throat, threatening to choke her more than the smoke. Am I buried alive?
Then she remembered — Damian.
Adriana twisted, ignoring the pain lancing down her side. His weight was sprawled half over her, heavy, protective. His arm still caged her, shielding her body from debris.
“Damian?” He
