“Oh, God, Portia!” came Müller’s voice from the door.
Zane glanced back at him for a second and saw him standing there, hesitating. Pulling his silver blade from his jacket, Zane took one of Portia’s wrists.
“Keep still.”
She pressed her lips together and watched him with fear-filled eyes that now brimmed with unshed tears.
He stuck his knife into the lock of the cuff and twisted. Back and forth he tried, first pushing in the tip of the knife only a fraction, then pressing deeper and trying again. But he found no traction. No clicking sound indicated that the cuffs would spring open. Pain seared through his injured shoulder, making his hand shake and the knife slip from the lock. He tried again.
The heat at his back made pearls of sweat drip from his forehead. He had to try harder. Without taking his eyes off the handcuffs, he wedged the knife’s blade in between a ridge and twisted it. The blade bent.
“I love you, Zane,” Portia whispered, a tear rolling down her cheek. He realized she was saying goodbye.
Her eyes strayed past him, where he knew the fire was encroaching on the bed.
But he couldn’t turn to see how close it was already. And he couldn’t let her believe that he would let her die.
“No, Portia, I won’t leave you here.”
He turned his face back to the door, where Müller still stood in horror, but the flames were about to cut off that route. “The keys!” Zane pleaded. “You must have the keys!”
Casting a cautious look at the flames, Müller answered, “Your life in exchange for hers.”
Zane stared at him in disbelief. There was no time to lose, and her father was bargaining when any second the room would be entirely engulfed in flames?
“What’s your answer?” Müller taunted and pulled the keys from his pants pockets, dangling them in the air.
Zane stood. “Free her first, then kill me.”
“No!” Portia screamed with more force than her weakened state should allow her. “Never! I’d rather die!”
Her gaze collided with Zane’s. “If you’re dead, he’ll use me just like he planned.” Her eyes pleaded with him.
For a moment, time froze, and the wheels in his mind worked. She was right of course, but he couldn’t let her die. Nor could he allow her father to use her for his nefarious plans.
There was one other way of freeing her though, but it was the most desperate one. And the most barbaric. He shuddered at what he had to do.
“Do you trust me?”
Portia nodded.
“If I cut one of your hands with the silver knife, you’re free from the cuffs.” The other handcuff would remain on her other wrist, but he could slip the silver chain connecting them from around the steel beam, freeing her.
A gasp issued from her lips, and her eyes squeezed shut.
“Your body will heal itself and grow you a new hand.”
Her throat worked hard as she parted her lips. “It’s the only way, isn’t it?”
He nodded solemnly. He wished there were another.
“Do it.”
“No!” Müller screamed from the door, suddenly advancing on the flames as if he wanted to burst through them. “You can’t do that!”
Zane paid him no heed. Instead, he pulled another stake from his pocket. “Bite on this.”
He put the wooden piece between her teeth. His brave Portia held onto it and nodded.
“I will make it quick,” he promised, his heart clenching in pain. He couldn’t wait for Thomas and the wire cutters. In a minute, it would be too late.
He set the knife’s blade at her wrist.
“Noooooo!” Müller’s scream broke through his thoughts.
He instinctively jerked his head and saw how Müller rushed through the flames that had now taken over two thirds of the room. Despite his speed, his clothes caught on fire.
“The key! Take it!” he yelled and raised his hand. Flames reflected on the metal as he threw the key.
Purely reacting on instinct, Zane caught the tiny key in his hands. As he rushed to stick it into the lock, Portia’s eyes reflected back at him what was happening behind his back.
The bottom of the bed had caught fire and was now rapidly licking its path toward Portia. Müller, himself engulfed in flames, frantically pulled on the bedclothes to drag them away from his daughter.
As the lock clicked open, Zane ripped the open handcuff from her and released the chain from the steel beam. He lifted her into his arms and glanced over his shoulder.
Müller was a fireball, still moving, but no more sounds came from him. His hands still moved in all directions as if trying to put out the fire, but Zane knew it was too late for him.