Page 44 of Burning Truth

Severn rocked back in the chair, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t think we have enough to identify him yet. And we don’t want to give out too much information, because then he’ll spook and go underground.”

Addie huffed in frustration. “Then let me respond to his message. We responded to one of the other ones. I want to tell him what an asshole he is.”

Severn stared at her for a long moment, as if assessing her determination. His beautiful eyes flickered, and he nodded. “Fine.”

Addie immediately pulled out her phone and found the message. Her fingers flew over the screen.You’re a spoiled, petulant asshole, she typed.Nelson Flynn never did anything to you, but you killed him. And his mother. You are a monster.

She showed Severn the screen, and he shrugged, a little fatalistically. Addie wondered if she was doing the right thing. Or if she was poking the bear. She hit the send button. Within seconds, the message was read and she could tell he was responding.

Nelson Flynn was in my way. One less obstacle to our being together.

Her mouth dropped open, horrified at his words in black and white.If you think I would ever be with you, you’re delusional. You are sick in the head. Monsters kill innocent people.

They’re not innocent.

For the ten-millionthtime that day, he opened the screen and looked at the message Addison had sent. One sentence beat at him.

You are sick in the head.

He’d been told that before, so it rang especially sharp. It would not deter him, though. Addison Kingston needed to know what an amazing, innovative, forward-thinking man he was.

The shrinks, the cops, the whole system—they couldn’t see the bigger picture, couldn’t grasp the truth staring them in the face. They said he failed the psych test, but that didn’t matter. The test wasn’t designed to find sanity; it was designed to weed out people like him—people who saw the cracks, who understood what needed to be done. They couldn’t label him because they didn’t understand him. He wasn’t a criminal. He wasn’t just some arsonist burning things down for fun. He was cleansing, purging the rot festering in the city. The fire was his weapon, his message, a way to burn through the corruption and lies.

They didn’t hear him. Not yet. Butshedid. And she was beginning to understand.

Addison was the one who mattered. Every time she stood in front of the ashes, reporting with that calm, professional, sexy voice, she had no idea that he was speaking directly to her through every single flame. She talked about the fires like they were just random destruction, just another tragedy. But she was beginning to see the pattern. She knew he was the one guiding the flames, sending a message to the city—to her.

The first fires were practice, stepping stones to something bigger. He never really planned to kill anyone. The people who died in the warehouse fire, well, that wasn’t his fault. They got caught up in something they had no control over. They weren’t his target, not really, but sometimes you had to break a few eggs to make an omelet. He didn’t set out to kill them, but it highlighted a different form of rot. They just shouldn’t have been there. It was their own fault they’d died. It was unfortunate, but necessary. The city needed to wake up.

Nelson Flynn had been in the way, too. The kid had been so earnest and ingratiating, trotting after her like a damn puppy. Thinking she would want his attention.Thathad been sickening.Nelson had bragged that she seemed interested, but he knew otherwise.

And he couldn’t lie. It had given him a thrill to hear Nelson screaming in his house as the fire ate him. If only he hadn’t seen him at the food truck festival. Maybe he would have let him live.

Addison was incredibly polite, and he’d watched her interactions with the public. She never cut them off or made them think she was uninterested. She leaned in toward the person and cocked her head, as if to listen more clearly. Nelson had thought that was interest.

He wanted that attention focused on him. He’d had it for a moment, and it hadn’t been enough. The need to see her and talk to her again was like a drug addiction, growing until it was all he thought about.

If he got rid of the new guy, her focus would be on him completely. He looked down at the phone. Sending her the messages this way was fun, but he wanted more direct contact.

And it was obvious to anyone with a brain in their head she and the new guy, Severn Moran, were just pretending to be in a relationship. Nobody would ever want to be with that scarred abomination, not by choice. It just showed how kind-hearted his Addison was, though.

For a moment, he wondered what Severn thought about the fire. It was obvious the man had an intimate connection with it. Did he remember feeling the flames kiss his fingers and lick across his hands? What secrets had the fire told him before she marked him?

Shaking his head, he looked down at the words on the screen.

No matter what his mother said, no matter what the Columbus Police Department said, no matter what Addison said, he knew he was more solid in his mind than he’d ever been.

And she would wake up soon. She would see how incredible he was. Every time she stood in front of the camera, he couldsense it—her curiosity growing, the gears in her mind turning. Eventually, she’d report on the fires differently, telling the viewers that he was doing the city a service. And when she saw the truth, she’d realize that he wasn’t some lunatic, some madman setting fires just for the thrill of it. No, he was the one trying to fix the system. He was the one trying to get it right.

And when she understood that? That’s when the city would listen. That’s when they’d all finally listen.

But first, he needed to get rid of her shadow. The man had been through a lot, and it only seemed fitting that he would introduce him to fire again. This one would be perfect. It had to be. She would have no choice but to see it, to report on it. And when she did, she’d know he was speaking to her.

Severn’s senseswere on high alert as he escorted Addie from the house. She’d been adamant that she couldn’t take off another day, not if it meant people were going to die.

It made his job incredibly hard, though. She was a public facing personality, and she had a responsibility to report the news. No matter the danger to herself.

Today, she wore one of her cute little dresses that hugged her ass. He’d cupped her ass before they left the house, and she’d grinned at him. The dress was deep maroon with bright silver buttons marching down the front, across her delicious breasts.

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