The air stank of charred flesh and burning wood. Flames licked the ceiling like hungry tongues, and the floorboards groaned under the weight of collapsing beams.
Ren's eyes burned from the smoke, but he forced them open. Daichi lay half-buried under a toppled table, the left side of his body blackened and blistered. Molotov cocktails had shattered through the window moments ago, turning the brothel into a furnace.
"Daichi!" Ren shouted, voice hoarse. He dropped to his knees, ignoring the heat that seared his palms.
A shadow fell over him. Luxy crouched, her single remaining wing unfurling like a shield of white gold. The feathers shimmered, untouched by the fire crawling across the walls. "Stay with me," she said, voice steady despite the chaos. "My wing will protect you. Fire can't touch it."
Ren glanced at Daichi's trembling form. The man's lips moved soundlessly, eyes wide with agony. "We're not leaving him," Ren said. "I can heal him."
