Page 77 of Pyre

Ruby didn’t let him finish. She tilted the can, letting the fluid soak his clothes and the planks beneath him. The sharp chemical scent filled the air as she worked silently, methodically.

Edward chuckled, watching her with that same twisted amusement. “You’re really going to do it, huh? Burn me alive. Poetic.”

She ignored him, flicking the lighter and holding the small flame steady.

“Just think,” Edward said, his tone turning darker, more insidious. “All those people you’ve killed—every single one, including your boyfriend’s sister—they could’ve been cured. If only you hadn’t been so naive.”

Ruby froze, the flame hovering close to the drenched planks. Her breathing quickened, and she fought the urge to slam her hands over her ears, to block out his voice.

“It’s not true,” she muttered under her breath, pressing her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “The TCA would know. I would know. They wouldn’t just…”

She trailed off, her grip tightening on the lighter.

Edward’s eyes lit up with a flicker of hope as he caught the doubt flickering in hers. “That’s it,” he cheered, “Start thinking. Start wondering.”

Ruby shook her head, steeling herself. “Do you think my girls will forgive me for being so late?” Edward asked, his tone softening for the first time.

Her lips curled into a bitter scoff. “You won’t be going to the same place as your family.”

“Perhaps not,” he conceded, his voice suddenly resolute. “But I did what needed to be done. And you? You’re just like me.” His eyes burned with certainty as he delivered his final words. “You and I will meet again.”

Ruby didn’t hesitate this time. She touched the flame to the soaked fabric, and the fire caught instantly, roaring to life with a sharp hiss. She stepped back, watching as the flames crept upward, consuming the wood and his clothing with relentless speed.

Edward didn’t flinch at first, staring at her with a twisted smile that soon faltered into a wince as the fire reached his bare feet. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, acrid and suffocating.

“Guess we’re not that different after all,” he croaked through raspy laughter, choking as the smoke invaded his lungs.

Ruby didn’t respond. She turned on her heel, walking away as his screams rose to a crescendo, echoing through the aisles of the deserted Target.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

SIX MONTHS LATER

“How far are you?” Jonah’s voice echoed through the speaker of Ruby’s phone, warm and steady.

She glanced down at the mapping app she had open, careful to keep the U-Haul from swerving into the next lane. The weight of the vehicle seemed amplified by her unease, its tires groaning against the asphalt. “Five minutes,” she said. “Just about to take the exit toward your place.”

The words sounded too light, too ordinary for what they truly meant. Jonah’s place. Soon to be their place. Her grip tightened on the steering wheel.

Six months had passed since she had killed Edward. She had expected to feel relieved, free to move on with her life. And she had. Mostly. She and Jonah were happy—truly, stupidly happy in ways that both comforted and unnerved her. They talked. A lot. To each other. To a therapist assigned by the TCA. To a couples’ counselor they found on the internet.

They went on dates, simple and wonderful. Ruby discovered she loved hockey—the cold, the roar of the crowd, the electricity in the air. Slowly, Jonah’s apartment had become her home. Her toothbrush sat next to his in the bathroom. Her books had colonized a corner of his shelves.

Jonah had been reinstated by the TCA, and they were partners again. The Denver office, still scarred by the explosion, was being rebuilt. They never discovered what caused theexplosion or even how. Somehow, the cameras had been shut off prior to the explosion. Together, they tracked down thermophiles and explored new cities. Kavya and her wife had adopted a rambunctious two-year-old with a passion for shoving bananas into video game consoles. Ruby found herself looking forward to their chaotic family dinners. She had agreed to mentor Ellie, the young thermophile who lost her parents, though that wouldn’t start for a few more months as the TCA detoxed her from the human phlogiston.

For the first time in years—maybe ever—she lived. She cherished the small moments, finding joy in the routine.

Late at night though, long after Jonah’s steady breathing signaled his sleep, the darkness would settle into her chest. She paced hotel hallways, wandered unfamiliar streets, and grappled with the quiet echo of Edward’s words.

“A cure.”

The idea slithered into her thoughts, uninvited and unwelcome. An end to her sleepless nights. To her infinite, endless lifetime. The chance to eat again, to age, to dream, to feel human in ways she had forgotten.

But if a cure existed, why wasn’t it known? Why wasn’t it used? And if it didn’t, why had she never heard whispers of trials or research within the TCA?

Her stomach churned with the questions as she turned into a Sinclair gas station. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, a sickly yellow glow making the shadows too sharp, the dark edges of the lot too black.

She parked by the pump and killed the engine. For a moment, she sat still, her hands slack on the steering wheel. The faint scent of gasoline wafted through the cracked window, sharp and metallic.

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