The sound of the storm dulled for a moment, as if the world had gone mute. My ears rang, my heartbeat a frantic rhythm against the silence. For a split second, I couldn't tell if I was alive or dreaming. Then came a breath. His breath.
I opened my eyes. Tyler was beneath me — soaked, eyes wide and dazed, his chest rising and falling in uneven bursts. Relief crashed through me so sharply it almost hurt. I'd pushed him. The memory came flooding back: the shadow in the storm, the deafening crack, the splintering sound that swallowed everything. I didn't think. I just moved.
The rain poured down on us, cold and merciless. My palms stung from the fall, my knee throbbed, but none of that mattered. He was alive. That was all that mattered.
"Tyler," I breathed, barely hearing myself over the wind. "You—are you hurt?"
He blinked, exhaling hard as he tried to sit up. "I'm fine," he said, though his voice was rough, shaken. His hand found my arm and gave it a small squeeze. "You're insane, you know that?"
A breathless laugh escaped me before I could stop it. "Maybe," I said softly. "But you're welcome."
He shook his head, half exasperated, half relieved. "You could've been killed."
"So could you," I countered. The words came out steadier than I felt.
The rain continued to hammer down, drowning the rest of the world. He stood and offered me his hand. When I took it, his grip was firm and warm despite the cold. For a moment, it felt like the storm wasn't even there like all the noise and fear had faded into nothing.
We made our way back inside, dripping and shivering but alive. Tyler secured the door behind us, the click of the latch cutting through the roar of the wind. My lungs burned, my body trembling from the cold, but my mind wouldn't stop spinning.
What if I hadn't seen it in time?
What if he hadn't moved fast enough?
I shook my head hard, forcing the thought away.
Tyler exhaled, running a hand through his soaked hair. "I need to shut off the main breaker," he said quickly, already moving toward the hallway. "Stay here."
I nodded, but my body wasn't listening. The moment he disappeared from sight, the adrenaline that had been keeping me upright began to fade. And when it did, everything hit at once.
My knees trembled uncontrollably. The dull throb in my leg pulsed in rhythm with my heartbeat, sharper with every breath. I pressed my palm over it, wincing at the heat spreading from the wound.
The world tilted slightly. The air grew heavy, thinner. I blinked, trying to steady my vision, but black spots danced at the edges.
Tyler rushed back moments later, breathless, his flashlight beam cutting through the dark. "Breaker's off," he said, but his voice faltered when he saw me. "Kz! Hey! what's wrong?"
He was beside me in an instant, kneeling in front of me, hands hovering uncertainly. "Kz, are you okay? For real this time?"
I tried to answer, but the words caught somewhere between my chest and throat. My lips moved, but no sound came out. I was shaking too hard.
He cursed under his breath and grabbed the blanket from the couch, wrapping it around me. "You're freezing," he murmured, voice tight with worry. His hand brushed against my forehead, his skin warm against mine. His eyes flickered, alarmed. "You're burning up."
He started to rise. "Stay here. I'll get something for your fever and some supplies."
But before he could move, the room seemed to lurch sideways.
"Tyler..."
My voice came out faint, slurred. His head snapped toward me, but it was already too late. The edges of my vision darkened, sound pulling away like a receding tide. The last thing I felt was his arms catching me before everything went black.
When I came to, warmth coursed through my fingers, faint at first, then steady, pulsing with life. Through the haze, I saw a hand clasped around mine, firm and gentle, the other cupping it close to his mouth, his breath warm against my cold skin.
I blinked slowly, the world swimming back into focus. The faint flicker of the emergency light painted the room in gold and shadow. Rain still battered the windows, but softer now, a steady rhythm that almost sounded like breathing.
A small cough escaped me, my throat dry and aching. The motion made him stir.
"Hey," Tyler said softly, setting my hand down to press his palm against my forehead. His skin was warm, almost feverish against mine. "You're awake."
His voice carried a mix of relief and exhaustion. He must've been sitting there the whole time.
"You scared the hell out of me," he murmured, exhaling as if he'd been holding his breath for hours.
I managed a weak smile, my lips trembling. "Sorry... I didn't mean to."
He shook his head, brushing damp strands of hair away from my face. "You don't have to apologize for almost passing out from exhaustion, Kz."
I tried to sit up, but he immediately placed a steady hand on my shoulder. "Hey. Don't. Just stay still. You've got a fever. You've been out for almost half an hour."
Half an hour?
I glanced around. A small towel rested beside me, damp from use. A mug of steaming water sat on the table, and a first-aid kit lay open, supplies scattered but used.
"You did all this?" I asked quietly.
He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but his eyes betrayed him still flickering with worry. "Didn't really have much else to do while waiting for you to wake up."
The corners of my mouth lifted, faint but genuine. "You're terrible at pretending not to care."
That earned a soft huff of laughter from him brief, but real. "Guess I'm not as good at hiding things as I thought."
A silence fell between us then, the kind that wasn't heavy this time — just soft, lingering.
The rain outside had eased to a steady drizzle, the wind still humming through the cracks, but quieter now.
Tyler's thumb brushed unconsciously over the back of my hand, still holding it, his gaze distant. "You really shouldn't have come with me," he said quietly. "If you hadn't been there, maybe I—"
"Don't," I whispered.
He looked at me.
"Don't finish that sentence," I said. "You'd have done the same for me."
Something flickered in his eyes then — something raw and unspoken. He didn't argue. Didn't have to.
For the first time that night, the storm didn't feel so loud.
Then, through the wind, came another sound.
Faint at first, like a thread carried by the rain.
Then louder.
A voice.
"H-Help! Somebody, please!"
The voice was faint, almost drowned by the storm, but it was there — desperate, cracking.
Tyler froze, straining to hear.
A chill ran through me. I knew that tone. Fear.
He met my gaze, and in his eyes I saw it, not fear for himself, but recognition.
Someone was out there.
"I'll check it out," he said immediately, grabbing his flashlight.
"Wait." I pushed myself up, ignoring the sting in my knee. "If someone's in trouble, I'm coming with you."
He frowned, shaking his head. "Kz, no. You're hurt. It's not safe out there!"
"If someone's out there, we can't just pretend we didn't hear," I said firmly.
Before he could argue, another desperate shout ripped through the storm. My heart lurched. That voice. It wasn't far, maybe the next floor down.
He sighed, frustration flashing across his face, but he didn't waste time. "Fine," he muttered. "Stay behind me. Don't fall."
The hallway was darker now, the power long gone, the emergency light flickering weakly near the stairwell. Water pooled at the bottom of the steps, murky and cold against our ankles. The wind howled through the cracks in the building, carrying faint echoes of the storm's rage.
Then came a sound.
A bark.
Sharp. Desperate. Echoing somewhere below us. Another followed, frantic, high-pitched, echoing up the stairwell like a cry for help.
I froze mid-step. "Did you hear that?"
Tyler turned, his flashlight cutting through the shadows. "Yeah. Someone's dog."
The barking didn't stop. It only grew louder, mixed now with something else. A faint, trembling voice barely audible above the storm.
"Help! Somebody, please—!"
My pulse spiked. The voice was muffled by walls and rain, but there was no mistaking the panic in it.
We exchanged a quick glance. No hesitation. We both ran.
The water was waist-deep now, swirling with debris — floating bits of paper, an overturned pail bumping against my knee. The smell of rain and dirt filled the corridor.
The barking grew sharper, closer.
"There!" Tyler shouted, pointing his flashlight at a door hanging half-open, floodwater sloshing in and out.
He pushed it open with his shoulder, and the beam of light swept across the room. My stomach dropped.
A woman was trapped — half-submerged, her back pressed against the wall, one arm pinned beneath a toppled cabinet that had been lifted and twisted by the rising water. The dog barked beside her, trying to claw the heavy wood off her arm.
"Help me!" she cried, her voice breaking.
"Hang on!" Tyler shouted back, wading through the chest-deep water. He shoved debris aside and crouched next to the cabinet, straining to lift it, but it barely moved. "Kz! Get her arm!"
I pushed through the freezing water, reaching for her. Her skin was cold, slick with rain and sweat. Her eyes flickered between us, terrified, but holding on.
"On three!" Tyler said, gritting his teeth. "One... two... Now!"
He heaved against the cabinet, muscles trembling with the effort. The wood lifted just enough for me to pull. The woman cried out, gasping as I yanked her free. She slumped against me, coughing, as the cabinet crashed back into the water with a heavy splash.
Tyler caught her by the shoulders before she slipped under again, steadying her. "You're okay," he said quickly, voice low but sure. "You're safe now."
Her breathing came in short, ragged bursts. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused but they locked on him.
She blinked hard, as if trying to make sense of what she was seeing. "You..." Her voice cracked. "You're—"
He frowned, confused, but didn't respond. "We need to get you upstairs," he said, his tone all business.
The dog barked again, tail wagging weakly, pressing itself against her side as if urging her to move.
"Easy," Tyler said, looping an arm around her shoulders and helping her stand. "Can you walk?"
She nodded shakily, clutching his arm for balance.
"Come on," I said, my voice quieter than I meant it to be. "Before the water gets higher."
The three of us waded out of the room, the dog following close behind. My pulse was still hammering from the rescue, but as we climbed the stairs, I couldn't shake one thought —
The way she looked at him.
Like she already knew him.