Page 265 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“It was me. I accidentally caused the fire, and it killed my parents.”

I blink. My mind is blank. “I don’t understand.”

Briar ducks her head as if she’s ashamed. “I was hungry, and it was late at night, so I didn't want to wake my parents or Chef Greene. I went to the kitchen and tried to make scrambled eggs because that's what I knew how to make when I was young. There was food residue stuck under the coil, and it caught on fire. I didn't know what to do, so I knocked on my parents' door, but they didn't respond. The fire started to grow, and I panicked and left them there. I was caught in the middle, and one of the staff who had woken up grabbed me and helped me escape. Your stepdad was already outside with others when I made it out.”

“Fuck,” I have no other words.

“I cut my scars because I thought it would be less obvious,” She explains. “I know my parents' death was an accident. But that doesn’t mean I’m not to blame for other deaths.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Amaura.”

My heart stops. “Amaura? Wait… Your nanny. Your friend who showed you the angel?” I frown, shaking my head. “But you said that we’ll meet her someday. I don’t understand.”

“We will,” She nods before forcing a teasing grin. “When we die.”

I could feel my face darkening with anger. “Don’t.”

“I told you she’s not here. She’s not,” Briar looks away. “She’s dead. I killed her.”

I stare at her, waiting for her to continue because I refuse to believe Briar murdered someone who meant a lot to her.

“She died the same day we saw that angel. She bought me this little angel figurine the church was selling,” She sighs. “She warned me to hide it from my parents, but I didn’t listen. I wanted to show them because I thought they would be happy. Instead, they got super pissed and killed Amaura.”

I never tore my eyes away from hers. “I’m so fucking sorry they did that, baby. But I’m not understanding why you’re saying you killed her.”

“Because,” She shrugs as if it was fucking obvious. “If I listened to her, my dad wouldn’t have killed her. I killed her, Rurik. I killed her. And that’s why I freaked out when you almost died on me too because that would have been my fault and—”

“Stop,” I place my hand on her lips. “Don’t. I know what you’re about to say, but I need you to stop talking. I will not let you talk shit about the love of my life like that.”

Her eyes widen as she stares up at me.

“Amaura died because your parents killed her. They chose to kill her. You were an innocent kid excited about a gift, right? That’s not your fault. And again, what happened to me was because of your stupidass uncle and Philip. Oh, and my heart. Again, none of those are your fault.”

I let go of her lips, raising my brow when her lips parted.

“Not your fault,” I say. “Repeat after me, Briar.”

She purses her lips, her brows furrowing together.

“Briar.”

“Not my fault.” She mumbles.

“Again.”

“Not my fault.”

“Again.”

“Rurik, come on—”

“Again.”

“Not my fault.”

“What’s not your fault?”

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