Jace turned his gaze toward the front of the bus. Smoke billowed, thick and black, from the broken window that he, Aggie, and Sed had escaped through not fifteen minutes ago. Flames licked the opening. He was running in that direction before his mind could grasp the severity of the situation.
Jace headed to the front of the bus and peered through the windshield. Dave's unconscious form was suspended from the driver's seat by a seat belt. The interior behind the driver's compartment glowed an ominous orange. Fire. Jace's heart froze. The person he saw in peril was not Dave. He saw his father surrounded by the flames.
"Father!"
Jace pounded on the window, trying to rouse him. "Wake up!" He fisted both hands, and using his one-hit-knockout punch, struck the glass. It broke. A hole burst through the middle of a spiderweb patterned crack. He hit it again, widening the hole. Jace grabbed his father by his pale yellow polo shirt. "Father! Don't die. Don't be dead. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was an accident. I…"
Someone broke out more glass from the windshield. Hands struggled to release the seat belt. The heat of the flames brought Jace back to the moment. Dave, not his father, came free from the seat. Jace took a stuttering breath and followed Sed, who was carrying Dave from the burning wreckage. A safe distance away, Sed laid Dave's limp body on the pavement. There was something unnatural about the angle of Dave's neck.
Eric listened to his chest. "He's not breathing." He started CPR while everyone looked on anxiously.
Jace shook so hard his legs gave out. He dropped to his knees on the asphalt. Aggie appeared before him. His demon in black. No, his angel. His salvation.
Her fingers stroked his hair so tenderly it made his heart swell. He didn't understand it. What had he ever done to deserve this wonderful woman? He wrapped both arms around her waist, buried his face against her belly, and sobbed.
"I've got you, baby," she whispered.
The pain inside was unbearable—worse than anything in his experience. He couldn't breathe. "It hurts," he gasped. "God, it hurts. Mercy," he begged her, rubbing his face against her belly. "Mercy, Aggie. Mercy."
"Let it go now." Aggie's fingers tightened in his hair. "Just… let go, Jace."
Let it go?
Yeah. Let go.
Oblivious to anything but the pain searing his soul, Jace cried. He released fifteen years of torment in a flood of tears and snot and sweat and blood at the feet of the woman he knew he could not live without.