Then came the night when everything changed irrevocably. She woke to the sharp creak of the back door swinging open and saw Vale carrying a red gasoline can toward the old shed, moving with a strange, determined pace that felt all wrong. The flickering light from the kitchen window played across his face, making his features look hard and twisted. In that chilling moment, she knew something terrible was about to happen, and she was certain Max knew it, too.
She described for Manny how the first flames leapt to life behind the house, a sudden, glowing orange against the black tapestry of trees and night sky. The firelight flickered wildly, alive and hungry, throwing long, dancing shadows across the overgrown yard. She remembered standing frozen at the window, her breath fogging the cold glass, watching something she didn’t fully understand transform into something she instinctively knew was monstrous and dangerous.
Max had tried desperately to drag her away from the window, telling her not to look, but it was too late. She had already seen Vale’s shadow twisting through the rising flames, his movements frantic and furious. The fire cast him as a dark, distorted figure, a silhouette of pure menace. Even through the thick pane of glass, she sensed he wasn’t simply angry; he was completely unhinged, unpredictable, and more terrifying than he had ever been.
When Max risked another peek, Vale spotted him watching. He stormed back toward the house, a force of pure violence. He burst inside and struck Max across the face so hard the sound of the impact made Mia gasp aloud. She clamped her small hands over her ears, trying to block out the torrent of shouting and the sickening thuds, but it was useless. Everything shook inside her—a tempest of fear, confusion, and the devastating realization that Max had been sacrificing himself to protect her all along.
The girl’s voice broke as she finished, the memory of that final, desperate flight still chilling her more than the winter air ever had. She had run until her legs gave out, collapsing with the dog in a frozen alley, its warm body her only shield against the cold and her terror. She had waited, as instructed, for Max who never came.
Manny felt his chest tighten painfully. She hadn’t been wandering aimlessly through freezing streets; she’d been following the only plan Max could create under fire and violence. Max had trusted the dog to lead her to safety, hoping someone, anyone, would find her before Vale did. Manny felt the weight of that trust, a sacred charge passed from a bleeding boy to a loyal animal and now, irrevocably, to him.