Don't touch the Fire

“Ava.”

Evan’s voice was firm this time.

Grounding.

Controlled.

But Ava could barely hear him over the roaring in her head.

Smoke.

She could smell smoke.

The archive walls suddenly felt like they were closing around her, the air too hot, too tight, too familiar.

Her pulse spiraled violently.

Not here.

Please not here—

“Ava, look at me.”

She stepped backward again too quickly and hit the edge of a desk.

Her breathing shattered into panic.

Sophia’s smile disappeared instantly now. “Evan…”

He already understood.

This was not ordinary fear.

This was trauma.

Evan moved toward Ava slowly, carefully, like approaching something wounded enough to run.

“There’s no fire in here,” he said evenly.

But Ava’s eyes were unfocused now.

Gone somewhere else entirely.

“I can’t—”

Her voice broke.

Evan glanced toward the upper vents where faint smoke drifted through.

Probably the east wing chimneys.

Harmless.

Yet the girl standing before him looked genuinely terrified.

Interesting things usually fascinated Evan.

But this?

This disturbed him.

“Ava.” His tone lowered slightly. “Breathe.”

She shook her head immediately.

Tears burned behind her eyes from pure panic and humiliation.

Not here.

Not in front of him.

Anyone but him.

“I need—”

Air.

Light.

Safety.

The room tilted slightly.

And suddenly Evan grabbed her wrist.

Not harshly.

Strongly.

The contact shocked her enough to interrupt the spiral for half a second.

“Come with me.”

Before she could protest, he guided her quickly out of the archives.

Sophia stayed behind silently, concern replacing amusement completely.

Evan walked fast through long corridors while Ava struggled to breathe beside him.

“Look at me.”

She couldn’t.

Her chest hurt too badly.

“Ava.”

His voice carried command naturally.

Against her own panic, her eyes lifted toward him.

“Good,” he said immediately. “Keep looking at me.”

Rain thundered against mansion windows as he pushed open large glass doors leading outside toward a covered stone terrace.

Cold air hit her instantly.

Rain scent.

Wind.

No smoke.

Ava bent forward sharply, trying to steady her breathing.

Evan stayed beside her.

Not touching now.

Watching.

Calculating.

“You’re safe,” he said.

Simple words.

Yet something about the certainty in his tone reached through the panic.

Ava closed her eyes tightly.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Again.

Again.

Several painful minutes passed before her breathing slowly stabilized.

Humiliation arrived immediately afterward.

Of course it did.

Ava straightened quietly, avoiding his eyes.

“I’m fine now.”

“You were having a panic attack.”

“I said I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.”

That only irritated her more because he was right.

Ava wrapped her arms around herself tightly against the cold.

“I don’t need analysis, Mr. Ashford.”

“Evan.”

“I don’t care.”

The sharpness in her voice surprised even herself.

But embarrassment always made her defensive.

Especially around men like him.

Powerful men.

Men who looked at weakness like something distasteful.

Evan studied her silently for a moment.

“You’re afraid of fire.”

Not a question.

Ava’s jaw tightened.

“I said I’m fine.”

“And I said you’re afraid.”

Rainwater blew lightly across the terrace between them.

Finally she spoke quietly.

“My parents died in a house fire.”

Silence.

Even the storm outside suddenly felt quieter.

Evan’s expression changed almost invisibly.

Not pity.

Something heavier.

“How old were you?”

“Sixteen.”

The answer landed harder than expected.

Too young.

Far too young.

Ava looked away toward the rain-covered estate grounds.

“I couldn’t save them.”

There it was.

The real wound.

Guilt.

Evan understood guilt better than most people thought.

Not the same kind.

But enough to recognize it.

“You were a child,” he said flatly.

Ava laughed softly then.

Broken sound.

“You say that like trauma listens to logic.”

That sentence stayed with him.

Because it sounded practiced.

Like something she had repeated to herself many nights alone.

A strange tension settled between them now.

Not hostile this time.

Something quieter.

Rawer.

Then Ava realized something suddenly.

“You brought me outside.”

Evan frowned slightly. “Obviously.”

“You noticed I needed air.”

“You were seconds from collapsing.”

Most people during her panic attacks became loud.

Overwhelming.

Chaotic.

But Evan had stayed calm the entire time.

Controlled.

Steady.

Oddly safe.

That realization unsettled her deeply.

Because dangerous men were not supposed to feel safe.

“You don’t seem like the comforting type,” she admitted before thinking.

One corner of his mouth moved faintly.

Not quite a smile.

“I’m not.”

For some reason, that almost made her smile too.

Almost.

Then the terrace doors opened again.

Sophia walked out carrying two mugs carefully.

“Oh good,” she sighed dramatically. “Neither of you murdered each other.”

Ava blinked.

Evan looked annoyed already.

Sophia handed Ava a mug first.

Hot coffee.

The smell alone grounded her further.

“You looked pale enough to haunt the mansion,” Sophia said gently.

Ava accepted the cup quietly. “Thank you.”

Sophia glanced suspiciously between them.

“You know,” she said slowly, “this is the longest Evan has voluntarily spent helping another human being.”

“I was preventing workplace injury,” Evan replied coldly.

“Sure.”

“Stop talking.”

Sophia ignored him beautifully.

Then her eyes suddenly widened with fake realization.

“Oh my God.”

Evan narrowed his gaze. “What now?”

“You care.”

“I absolutely do not.”

“You brought her outside in the rain.”

“She couldn’t breathe.”

“You hate inconvenience.”

“She was panicking.”

Sophia looked delighted now.

“This is historic.”

Evan’s jaw tightened visibly.

Ava lowered her coffee slowly, trying very hard not to smile.

Because watching the terrifying Evan Ashford lose arguments to his younger sister was unexpectedly entertaining.

And unfortunately—

For the first time since arriving at Ashford Estate—

Ava felt something dangerous begin to shift between them.

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