Page 29 of Maison De Fous

The heat hits me next, creeping closer, searing against my skin as the flames roar higher, crackling like the laughter of some sadistic god. I should be used to this by now—the fire, the destruction—but this... this is something else. It’s wild, faster than I expected, spiraling out of control. The havoc I craved—yeah, it’s here—but it’s teetering on the edge of something even my demons don’t like to fuck with. Fire.

“Lux.” Indie’s voice cuts through the haze, soft but with an edge. I can hear it—the concern creeping into her words as her eyes flick toward the inferno swallowing the tent. Her hand tightens in mine.

A figure lurches past me, the sharp clack of heels echoing against the dirt floor. Beneath the mask, I can’t see her eyes, but the way her lips curl into a maniacal grin tells me everything I need to know. She’s lost in this world we created, feeding off the mayhem, and as I glance to my side, I see her drop to her knees before another masked patron, who pulls her hair back with a cruel laugh. There’s something primal about their interactions, a rawness that ignites a twisted fire in my gut.

They’re reveling in depravity, and a dark part of me can’t help but admire their complete surrender to desire. To us and the freedom we provided them with. They don’t care the world is burning down around them. All they care about is this moment, where they are free to be who they really are.

The crowd swells around me, a mass of black masks bobbing and weaving, their bodies moving in frantic rhythms. Some are lost in the haze of ecstasy, grinding against one another in a frenzy of lust, while others scream in terror, trapped in a cycle of panic and pleasure. The flames lick at the edges of the tent, illuminating their faces in a hellish glow, and I can feel the heat radiating from the fire—inviting, intoxicating, and familiar.

It mirrors my own inner turmoil, tugging at the corners of my mind.

I catch a glimpse of two cirkies—clowns with painted faces that twist into manic expressions. They’re engaged in a brutal game, one holding a man against the ground while the other rips the mask from his face, exposing the raw fear in his eyes. “Look at him!” one of the clowns cackles, laughter mingling with the screams around us. “He’s not so tough without his mask, is he?” Their sadistic joy sends a shiver down my spine.

Fuck, I love this shit.

The heat intensifies, the flames roaring higher as the tent fabric crumbles, shadows shifting and flickering along the canvas like demons emerging from the depths.

“We need to go.” I tug Indie closer, but I can’t tear my eyes away from the madness. People are screaming, bloodied bodies writhing in a dance of violence and lust. Some are still lost in the throes of their pleasures, but others—oh, they’re tearing each other apart. Fists, knives, teeth. Anything they can use to destroy the one beside them.

I should feel victorious. This is what I wanted. Fergus’s world, crumbling under the weight of its own perversion. Thetent collapsing in a storm of fire, blood, and bodies. But… the flames… they’re spreading too fast.

Too fucking close.

A shiver runs through me. The smoke. The smell of burning flesh. It pulls me back, drags me into a memory I thought I’d buried. But it’s clawing its way to the surface, wrapping around my throat like a goddamn noose.

It’s been years, but I can still feel it—the heat of that night. The flames licking at my skin, the smoke choking my lungs as I hid under my bed, hoping the flames would come for me beforehedid. I can still hear her voice—the women who took care of me when I was pulled out of that fire. Who told me that she was gone.

I should’ve felt remorse. She was a bitch, but she was still my mother.

I didn’t want to burn her, but I had no choice. I couldn’t spend another night, waiting for his footsteps outside my door. The fire... it was my way out. But it scarred me. Left me marked, inside and out.

And now... I’m back here again. In the flames.

“Come back to me, Lux. Look at them,” Indie whispers, a grin breaking through the concern. Her eyes glint with excitement, feeding off the havoc like gasoline. “They’re killing each other. Look at their desperation.”

Johnny lets out a low, unhinged laugh beside me that pulls me from the memories. “Didn’t expect this, did you?” There’s a glint of madness in his eye, but there always fucking is with him. This upheaval excites him. He gets off on this shit.

I watch as a woman shrieks, stabbing a man through the gut over and over again. She’s riding him, her hips grinding down with each roll, matching the rhythm of the blade as she drives it deeper. His eyes are wide, terrified. He’s begging her—begging for his life.

But she’s beyond reason now. There’s nothing but ecstasy in her eyes as she rides him to her own climax, his blood splattering her face, and his body jerking under hers with every stab. He’s dead by the time she’s done, but the bitch keeps grinding, her breath ragged as she moans.

Fuck.

It’s depraved. It’s beautiful. But it’s also dangerous. And the fire… it’s getting too close.

I clench Indie’s hand tighter. “We have to go. Now.”

Her eyes flick between me, Johnny, and the flames. She doesn’t want to leave. I can see it on her face—she’s getting a thrill out of watching, and I don’t blame her. This is everything we wanted. Everything we planned for. But the flames are licking at the edges of the tent now, crawling along the fabric, growing higher and more vicious.

“We can’t save them,” I growl, my voice low, but tight. “Anyone that matters is here, with us. The rest... they’re fucking replaceable.”

Indie’s face hardens at my words, but she knows I’m right. I pull her close to me, my hand wrapped tightly around hers as I glance at the flames, their heat biting at my skin.

Fire is the one thing I not only respect, but I fucking fear. Because the last time I faced it, it nearly destroyed me and I’m not taking any chances with it. Not tonight.

Just as I’m about drag Indie through the crowd, Giselle and Bjorn appear, shoving their way through the uproar. Bjorn has his arms wrapped around Giselle, holding her like she’s some sort of feral prize. She’s loving it—her big blue eyes gleam with a manic joy, and her plump lips twisted into a grin as she watches the flames consume everything.

“Well shit. This is what you wanted, Lux,” Bjorn grunts, his voice low, rumbling with approval. “This is the anarchy you promised us all, and fuck, it’s even better than I expected.”

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