Page 3 of Ignite

“No. He went into self-destruction, Hallie. That’s why I want you to do the opposite.”

The lump in my throat threatens to suffocate me.

“Okay. I think I know what I’ll do.”

He straightens his tie, lips curving.

“Let yourself grieve and then find happiness.”

I sink back into the cushions, a little lighter somehow.

“You’re not a bad boss, you know that, right?” I say, then pause. “And friend.”

He chuckles, running his hand through his dark brown hair, slicking it back.

“Don’t you dare tell anyone that. I reserve being nice for family and friends. No one else.”

I believe him.

“Your secrets are safe with me. Now, would you like a wine? I need something stronger than coffee.”

Yes. God, yes. I want to forget today ever happened. And Finn is right. I don’t want to be alone.

After a glass of Dad’s finest red, Finn leaves. I find myself in his bed, cocooned in the blankets that still smell like my dad. I press my face into the pillow and cry like I’m drowning.

Tears fall until I’ve got nothing left. Until my skull aches and my throat’s raw.

This house, it was never just a house. It was our home. Because he was here.

He was my constant. My compass. My everything.

And now it’s just walls and silence.

All I have left are the memories. And a garage with the cars we spent our lives fixing together.

Maybe that’s where I’ll find him again.

Maybe that’s where I’ll start to heal.

Maybe that’s where I’ll find a little piece of happy.

For both of us.

Chapter 1

CONAN

2 years later…

Jesus fucking fuck.

I’ve been punched in the head more times than I can count. Stabbed, too. But this shard of glass in my thigh? It burns like hell, worse than any knife I’ve taken.

If it weren’t embedded in my flesh, I’d already be chasing down the assholes who ran me off the road, grinding their skulls into the tarmac until the rage bleeding through my veins finally quieted.

Smoke pours from the Bugatti’s hood, the thick stench of it clawing at my throat. My jaw ticks.

“You hanging in there, Con?” Finn’s voice cuts through the speaker—tight, clipped.

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