The first thing Julian felt was cold.
Not the searing heat of the fire, but a biting, wet cold. He was lying on something hard. Grass? Gravel?
He forced his eyes open. The sky above him was grey, swirling with smoke. Rain was falling, mixing with the soot on his face.
He tried to sit up, but a hand on his chest pushed him back down.
"Don't move," a voice said. It wasn't Elena. It was cold. Professional.
Julian turned his head. A man in a tactical vest was kneeling beside him. Agent Thorne.
"Elena," Julian rasped, trying to twist around. "Where is she?"
"She’s right here," Thorne said, nodding to his left.
Julian forced himself to look. Elena was lying a few feet away, wrapped in a shock blanket. She was unconscious, her face smeared with soot and blood, but her chest was rising and
