The flames spread faster than Ayla had ever imagined. One moment they licked at the curtains, the next they roared up the walls like living things hungry for air. The heat pressed in on her skin, stinging her eyes and drying her throat until every breath felt like swallowing smoke.
She coughed violently, stumbling toward the kitchen where she had seen a fire extinguisher earlier. Her fingers fumbled around the cabinet until she found it, yanking it free.
"Come on, come on," she muttered, aiming at the nearest blaze. The white cloud hissed out, smothering one small section—but the rest of the fire surged back twice as strong, swallowing the furniture, the ceiling, the floor.
The heat became unbearable. Every breath felt like it was burning her lungs from the inside. Panic clawed at her chest.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Damien, standing in the center of the living room like some deranged conductor of chaos. But then—his smirk twisted into a scream. The flames had caught his sleeve, racing up his arm, igniting his shoulder.
"Ayla!" he shouted, stumbling back, slapping at his burning clothes. "Help me!"
She froze for only a second. Then she turned toward the wide villa windows.
Her heart pounded at the sight. Below was nothing but a sheer drop into the ocean. Jagged rocks jutted out in patches, the waves smashing into them with deadly force. If she jumped and missed the water, it would be over instantly.
But if she stayed… she'd burn.
She made her choice.
Ayla sprinted for the window, Damien's screams growing louder behind her as the fire wrapped him in its hungry arms. She didn't look back.
The glass shattered around her as she hurled herself through it, the cold salt air slapping her face an instant before she plunged into the churning water below.
The impact knocked the breath from her lungs, icy currents dragging at her limbs. Above, the villa exploded with a deafening roar, shards of flaming wood raining down onto the waves.
Her head broke the surface just in time to see the last of the fire consume the cliffside home. She was shaking, coughing, but she was alive.
Miles away, Leon's plane tore through the night sky. His phone was gripped tight in his hand, his mind locked on one thought: Just hold on.
But by the time he reached the coordinates, the villa would be nothing but smoldering ruin—and Ayla, somewhere in the vast, dark ocean.