Page 24 of Kane's Kingdom

I crouch beneath the smoke and force myself toward the front door while something crashes behind me. The screen refuses to move, and panic surges before I manage to get it open.

My fingers slip twice. Then the latch turns and I fall outside, coughing so hard I can barely drag myself from the building.

People run toward me from across the road. When I turn, flames are punching through the kitchen windows and black smoke is coiling over the roof.

Sirens get louder, followed by the sound of bikes. One engine is ahead of the others, coming hard enough that I recognize Kane before I see him. He tears into the parking lot, brakes so violently the back tire spits gravel, and is off the bike before the engine has completely died.

His eyes find me, and the expression on his face steals what little breath I've managed to recover. He crosses the space between us in a few long strides and drops in front of me, his hands closing around my arms.

"Bella."

"I'm okay."

He checks me over as if he can't trust his eyes to tell him I'm whole. "Kane, I'm all right."

"Breathe for me."

I drag in a deeper breath, but it turns into a harsh cough and drains the color from his face.

He leans in, breath still ragged, for a moment. When he pulls back, the president is returning to the surface, but the fear remains in his eyes.

The prospect's bike screams into the parking lot behind the fire engine. He barely manages to lower the stand before Kane rises, and every part of him changes. The prospect looks at the cafe, then at me, and finally at Kane.

"Prez, I--"

Kane hits him once. The punch drops him to his knees in the dirt.

Every firefighter, brother, and bystander sees it happen. Kane stands over him without raising his voice, which somehow makes the scene more frightening than shouting ever could.

"Where were you?"

Blood runs from the prospect's lip. "I had to…I had an errand to run. I needed to pick something up."

"You were told to stay on her."

"I was gone twenty minutes."

"She was inside that building."

The prospect looks toward me. Kane grabs the front of his shirt and hauls him upright. "You don't look at her. You look at me."

The young man's face drains of color.

"I'm sorry, Prez."

"You left your post."

"I thought--"

"That was your second mistake."

Kane releases him with a shove. "You'll never wear this club's patch." The sentence flat and final.

The prospect's mouth opens. "Prez--"

"You're done. Get out of here, and don't let one of my brothers see you after dark.”

Kane doesn't shout the order, but the prospect scrambles for his bike as if he has. Nobody tries to stop him as he rides away. When Kane turns back to me, his fury doesn't vanish. It simply changes direction, folding itself around the need to get me somewhere safe.