Warm Up (Villains, #0.5)

by V.E. Schwab

It had been 297 days since David died. And 297 since he’d come back, gasped and sat up in a base camp hospital tent covered in warming pads, the defibrillator still buzzing in the medic’s hands, his teeth chattering with cold.

It didn’t catch fire. Nothing ever actually caught fire. No, it all simply burned.