Page 148 of Roaring Flames

“And how does that make you feel?”

He doesn’t answer, seemingly content to stare out over the horizon with a pensive expression on his face. I really, really want to punch him. He has a super punchable face.

“I met Tiffany two years ago.” Ashton’s quiet voice drags my attention—albeit unwillingly—back to him. His eyes swarm with emotions I can’t read. “Not a lot of girls take an interest in me when around the other guys. Why would they? Emery’s the funny one, Ethan the smart one, and Reid the hot one, at least back then. I was just the asshole with OCD who hates ninety-nine percent of people.

“But Tiffany was different. She talked to me, got to know me, made me feel special. I didn’t love her—I’m honestly not certain I’m capable of such an emotion—but she became important to me. I cared about her.” Darkness rearranges his features into something unrecognizable. “But one day, when I was taking her home after football practice, she left her phone in my car. I know I shouldn’t have peeked, but when I glanced at it, I saw a message from someone named Gregor. I thought, ‘Surely, this couldn’t be my father?’

“There were hundreds, if not thousands, of messages between Tiffany and Gregor. She told him every little detail about my life—who I hung out with, what I ate, how often I shifted into my wolf, any special abilities I may have.” Raw rage causes his lip to curl before he forces his mask back into place. “I confronted her about the messages, and do you want to know what she said?” He laughs dryly and rubs a hand over his head. “She said, ‘Sorry, Ashton. It wasn’t personal. Just business.’ That was the last time I heard from her.”

Chills careen down my spine. “What happened to her?”

“She wasn’t murdered or anything like that. We’re not the goddamn mafia. She just…left town. Saw no reason to stay around now that she wasn’t getting paid. I thought she was my friend, but apparently, I was nothing but a job to her. And that’s when I realized that everyone in this world is out to get you. You can’t truly trust anyone.”

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest. “That’s… That’s sad, Ashton.”

He seems surprised by my response, physically stumbling back a step. “What?”

“One person hurts you, and you decide to spend the rest of your life alone?”

“I’m not alone,” he snaps, his skin flushing red. “I have my pack.”

“But for how long?” Every word I speak feels like ash on my tongue, bitter and chalky. I don’t want to say this to him, but I know he needs to hear it. “There’s only so many times they can forgive you.”

Ashton sucks in a ragged breath but doesn’t respond.

I open my mouth—to say what, I’m not entirely certain—when a loud boom ricochets through the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a building explodes outwards, tiny pieces of debris blotting out the sky.

Ashton rushes towards me. “What the fuck?”

A gun goes off.

And that’s when the screaming begins.

Fifty-Three

IZZY

“Stay with me,” I hiss at Ashton as I move through the trees towards the party.

For once, he doesn’t argue.

The two of us stealthily weave between trunks of trees until we’re at the very edge of the forest, hidden behind foliage.

For a long moment, I don’t understand what I’m seeing. Then everything comes into focus, accompanied by bone-chilling terror.

The largest house—the one that had the buffet on its front lawn—has been reduced to nothing but rubble and flames. The sight of it causes my heart to clench. How many people were in that house when it…exploded? Were my mates? Desiree? Their families? Oh god.

I force myself to look away, to focus my attention on the shifters.

“My god,” Ashton breathes in horror, his hand tightening around my upper arm.

I don’t know when he grabbed me, but I don’t have the heart or strength to push him away.

Dozens of shifters have been corralled to the center of the street where six masked gunmen surround them. All of them are tall, broad, and bedecked from head to toe in black.

“Hunters?” I whisper, making sure to keep my voice soft so the word doesn’t carry.

Ashton doesn’t answer, keeping his attention fixed on the gruesome sight below us.

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