Chapter 7 - Rising From the Ashes
Thick gray smoke poured into the room through the air vents.
Martha rushed to the door and pulled on the handle.
It was jammed tightly from the outside.
"She barricaded us in!" Martha coughed, waving the smoke away.
Flames licked the bottom of the wooden door frame.
Maxwell wheeled himself toward the windows.
"They are reinforced glass, designed to withstand bullets," he said grimly.
"We cannot break them without heavy tools."
The heat in the room was rising rapidly.
Martha looked around frantically for anything to use as a battering ram.
She grabbed a heavy brass floor lamp and swung it at the door.
The wood barely dented.
She swung again and again until her arms went numb.
"It's no use," Martha cried, falling to her knees as smoke filled her lungs.
She looked up at Maxwell, expecting to see defeat in his eyes.
Instead, she saw absolute fury.
Maxwell gripped the armrests of his wheelchair.
His knuckles turned white.
He let out a guttural roar of sheer willpower.
For the first time in fourteen months, Maxwell Rourke stood up.
His legs shook violently, but they held his massive weight.
Martha watched in awe as he took one agonizing step forward.
Then another.
He reached the heavy oak door.
He didn't need the brass lamp.
Maxwell threw his entire body weight against the weakened, burning wood.
The door splintered and crashed outward into the hallway.
He turned back to Martha and held out his hand.
May you like
"Let's go," he commanded.
But as they stepped into the fiery corridor, three of Delaney's armed men blocked the staircase.
