Chapter 3: Fire and Glass
1125 Words
Chapter 3: Fire and Glass
The first explosion didn’t sound like an explosion.
It sounded like thunder very low, rolling, impossible inside a hospital. Then the lights flickered, the alarms went on , and chaos tookover the calm.
Liyanah was in the trauma wing, checking on a post-surgery patient mr Edward a 54 year old, when the blast shattered the windows into tiny pieces. Pieces of glass rained down like silver knives. Her first instinct wasn’t fear it was motion. She threw herself over the patient, shielding him with her own body.
Smoke filled the corridors of the hospital. The power died.
Screams bled through the haze.
“Fire!” someone yelled. “There’s a fire in the west wing!”
Liyanah’s lungs burned as she grabbed her patient’s IV and dragged the bed toward the exit of the room. Her shoes slid on broken glass, but she didn’t stop. She never stopped.She kept on going.
By the time she reached the emergency stairs, two nurses were crying, one with blood on her hand. Liyanah shoved the bed into their hands. “Get him down. Go now!”
“What about you?” the nurse asked.
“ Don't worry about me ,I’ll make sure everyone else gets out first.”
She ran back into the smoke.
That was when she saw the second explosion smaller, but closer to her.
It tore through the hospital pharmacy corridor, sending debris and flame into the hall. Liyanah was flew backwards, her head hitting the wall hard enough to blur her vision and make her unconscious.
When she blinked, the walls was spinning.
The ceiling groaned above her, cracked, burning.
And then she heard him.
“Liyanah!”
She thought she was hallucinating at first.Through the smoke, a dark man figure emerged black shirt, gun at his belt, blood on his cheeks. Dante Moretti.
He was here.
“What— what are you doing?” she coughed, struggling to sit up.
He grabbed her arm, pulling her to her feet. “Saving you doc.”
“I don’t need—”
“Not now Liyanah. Move!”
He half-dragged, half-carried her down the corridor as fire licked the walls. She tried to fight him, her pride stronger than pain she was in, but his grip was too strong. They reached the stairwell just as a section of ceiling collapsed behind them.
Liyanah stumbled, coughing non stop. Dante pressed her against the wall, shielding her with his body.The heat was unbearable and the scent of burning antiseptic burnt her throat.
“Look at me,” he said sharply. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine,” she said softly.
“You’re bleeding.”
She touched her head, blood. She hadn’t even noticed that she was bleeding.
“Let me,” he said, wiping it gently with his thumb. His hands, calloused and scarred, were unexpectedly careful. “You shouldn’t be in there Liyanah.”
“I’m a doctor. That’s my place. I'm supposed to be there.”
“And I’m a man who destroys everything he touches,” he muttered,to himself. “You shouldn’t be anywhere near me.”
Before she could respond, the stairwell door burst open. Two men in tactical vests stormed in but they were not firefighters nor police. Guns drawn.
Dante’s expression hardened instantly. “Stay behind me.”
Liyanah froze. “Who are they?”
“Not friends.”
Bullets tore through the air. Dante pushed her down, firing back in a blur of motion. The gunfire echoed through the stairwell — deafening, relentless. When it finally stopped, both men were laying on the cold ground. The smell of gunpowder mixed with smoke.
Liyanah stared at him at the pistol still smoking in his hand.
He looked back at her, chest rising and falling.
“Who the hell were they, Dante?”
“People who wanted to send me a message doc,” he said quietly. “And they didn’t care who they killed to do it.”
Her heart pounded. “You brought this drama here? To my hospital?”
He didn’t deny it. “I didn’t know they’d follow me. You weren’t supposed to be—”
He stopped, voice cracking for the first time. “You could have died.”
Something broke in his tone — something raw and unguarded.
She’d seen men bleed, beg, die but she’d never seen one like him sound afraid of anything.
“Why are you even here?” she demanded.
“Because someone told me there’d be an attack at the hospital,” he said, eyes meeting hers. “I came to make sure you were safe.”
Liyanah’s breath caught. “You risked your life… for me?”
He shrugged, as if that didn’t matter. “Guess you’re bad for business.”
Despite the chaos, a faint, broken laugh escaped her.
“i***t,” she softly said.
He smiled — tired, lopsided. “You’re welcome.”
They made their way down the stairwell together. The building shook once more, but they kept moving until they reached the emergency exit and rushed into the cold night. Sirens wailed in a far distance. Firefighters were swarming in, shouting orders.
Dante pulled her aside, shielding her from the chaos surrounding them. His face was streaked with soot, his shirt torn and bloodstained, but his eyes were fixed on her , dark and alive.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “You?”
“I’ve been worse.”
Their eyes locked the air thick with everything unspoken. Gratitude. Fear. Something else neither wanted to name.
“I hate that you brought danger to my door,” she said.
“I know.”
“I hate that you think you can just show up and— and—”
“Save you?” he finished.
“Yes!”
He took a step closer to her. “Then you can hate me for that.”
Her breath caught. The flames behind them reflected in his eyes. He reached up slowly, his hand near her cheek but never touching as if he knew that one touch would break them both.
“You shouldn’t care about someone like me,” he said softly. “But I think you already do.”
She opened her mouth to deny it — but the words never came out.
The world around them was burning, yet somehow all she could feel and think about was him.
Then he stepped back, as if pulling himself away required all his strength in his body.
“Go home, Liyanah,” he said quietly. “Before I make another mistake ,just go.”
She watched him disappear into the smoke as if he was never there.
- Writer
