Page 28 of Whispers of Fire

“Don’t remember shit, he just talked about a chick, the one he’s marrying.” A strange feeling pulses through my veins, making me notice that I’ve held my breath for a few seconds.

“What about her?” I ask as casually as I can, hiding my worries behind an unbothered mask.

“He just said she’s got a nice piece of ass and also,” the guy says, spitting blood at the same time.

“Also WHAT?” I yell, losing my patience over him for talking so fuckin’ slowly.

“That he picked one who’s fuckin’ disabled so he could get his way with her easily. He took a mute chick, that’s all he said. He just laughed after,” Novac says, out of breath while the world around me seems to blur, the weight of his words hitting me like a sledgehammer.

Alexander Skarn. The leader of the Faithful Lambs.

I fuckin’ knew it.

And they were talking about Rose, like they had any right to.

My angel.

Wasn’t sure at first that he was talking about her, but deep down I knew it. Too many emotions rise in me, between fear and anger, and I don’t know how to fuckin’ process them. I haven't felt like this since I lost my family.

Fuck.

The idea of her being forced to be with someone else, or even just the idea of her being with anyone, makes me see red. But knowing that she has to tie herself to this old fucking piece of shit is the worst.

I take my Glock in my back strap and raise it to Novac’s head. He doesn’t say anything, perhaps relieved of knowing he’s gonna get a clean death, well as clean as you can go after being bled out like an animal.

I shoot him between his eyes, his head falling backward. Didn’t even give me any satisfaction. My mind is already focused on what he said.

My angel is getting married and I don’t like it one bit.

Rose

I’m lying in bed after what seemed like a never-ending day. Between the classes, prayers and the people murmuring about me, I’m exhausted. Thankfully I didn’t have my last class at the end of the day. Mr Collins called in sick.

That was the highlight of my day.

My nightgown itches and I wish I could just remove it and wear a t-shirt like the one Vox was wearing the first time I saw him in his garden.

My clock says it’s nine thirty. I want to get up and look at the window, to perhaps take a glance at him, but my body is drained and my eyelids are heavy. Too many feelings make me feel like a storm is coming and I don’t know what to do about it.

Should I accept my fate and obey?

Or should I allow myself to think of… more?

I’m scared and despite trying to reach out to my mother or my friends. I’ve never felt more alone in my life.

The only thought that brings me comfort is him.

So I close my eyes and imagine that he’s here, in my room, holding me in his large, muscular tattooed arms. His leather and manly scent hits my nostrils while I melt into his body and drift myself to sleep.

Suddenly, darkness descends upon my imaginary sanctuary, shattering the illusion of safety I’d found in Vox’s arms. Instead of peaceful dreams, I find myself trapped in a living nightmare.

I’m standing in a grand, sprawling mansion. It looks fancy with high ceilings and golden molding, but the walls are in flames. I try to breathe but all I can do is choke on the smoke filling the house. I try to run to another room, but each door keeps sending me back to the same room I was in. Panic courses through my veins as I realize that I am trapped, the heat of the fire pressing in on all sides, leaving me with nowhere to run. I try to call for my parents, but no sounds come out of my mouth. The flames are getting bigger and hungrier, voices inside them calling my name. I look everywhere around me but there’s no escape, and each second that passes makes my lungs burn with every breath.

Suddenly, I hear the sound of footsteps behind me, making the floor squeak like in a horror movie. “Come here, little lamb,” says a voice with a cold, dark laugh. I dare not look back, for fear of what I might see, but I can feel the presence of someone—or something—lurking just beyond the reach of the flames.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I try to run to the only window in the room, desperation driving me forward as I search for a way out of this hell. But no matter how hard I try to open it, it remains shut.

Panic takes over me, the flames dancing around my feet, the smoke filling in every corner of my lungs while my eyes spot something behind the window.

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