The large table they’d just been sitting at was overturned. It’s top lying at an angle against the same wall Trace was currently propped up on.
With his ears buzzing from the force of the blast, he did a quick assessment of his physical state.
His head throbbed—probably from when it slammed into the fucking wall—but when he felt around his skull and face, the worst he found was a small amount of blood on his left cheek. Nothing felt broken, and aside from the smoke, his lungs seemed to be working fine.
Glancing down, he noticed a few cuts on his hands and forearms, and his skin was smeared with dust and ash. But other than that, he felt okay.
Picking himself off the floor, Trace swiped at a singed spot on the cuff of his jeans. A burning piece of wood was close enough to his left foot, the heat from its flames licked at the sole of his boot.
Standing on a pair of shaky legs, he immediately checked on the others.
“Everyone okay?” he called out, kicking the board near his foot to the side.
Even his own voice was hard to hear for the incessant ringing filling his head.
“Not sure how, but yeah.” Derek stumbled to his feet, the ever-growing smoke making him cough.
The man’s sleeve was ripped along his shoulder, and there was a trickle of blood running down his damp bicep. But other than that and his disheveled, ashy look, the computer genius was fine.
“What the fuck...just...happened?” Grant asked between coughs as he and Trevor both got to their feet at the far corner of the room.
Coop—who was on the floor near where Trace was standing—began hollering for his fiancée as he pushed a chair off his legs.
“Mac!” Fighting off a coughing fit, the sniper frantically shot up. Tripping and nearly falling, he began sweeping the room with his worried gaze.
At first glance, they all seemed to be okay. Dripping wet and a bit banged up, but otherwise okay.
Like him, they had a few visible cuts and abrasions. But miraculously, they were all upright and moving with relative ease.
All except for one.
“Mac!”Coop’s head swiveled back and forth in a panic. “Where the fuck is she? She was sittingrightnext to me!”
Trace could almost feel the terror running through the other man’s veins.
Derek started to yell for Mac, too, but Trace put a hand up and shouted, “Quiet!” Because he was sure he’d just heard something.
Everyone froze where they stood. A half a beat later, he heard it again.
It was hard to decipher over the sound of crackling fire and the water showering down over them. But there was no mistaking what it was.
A low, feminine moan reached Trace’s ears—reachedalltheir ears—once more.
“There!” He pointed to the overturned table. “She’s under there!”
Everyone moved simultaneously, climbing over rubble to get to her. Grabbing a chair blocking his way, Trace tossed it aside to make a clear path.
With tight grips on the table’s legs, the group began pulling it away from the wall.
Made of solid wood, the fucker was heavy as hell. The fact that it was wet didn’t help matters, either. But between the five of them, they managed to lift the cumbersome piece of furniture away from the wall.
“Mac?” Coop was at her side in an instant.
Lying on her back, the woman’s eyes were closed. Water mixed with the blood covered her forehead and right cheek, along with the same black soot that marked everyone else’s skin.
“Baby, can you hear me?” Coop tried rousing her with a gentle shake. When she didn’t respond, his face fell with despair. “Ah, God.”
“She’s still breathing.” Trevor put a hand on Coop’s shoulder as he squatted down to check on the unconscious woman. “Let’s focus on that, yeah?”