Page 190 of Dance With A Devil
“I checked on her. After. When she couldn’t move. I kept it quiet. Patched her up.”
I can’t breathe.
That son of a bitch touched her. Touchedmygirl. And she never told me. Or maybe she did, once. In silence. In the way she flinched when I raised my hand too fast. In the way her body froze before she let me in.
Or maybe he made herforget.
I unscrew a can and dump it across the grass, the gas splashing like blood. The smell is thick, biting, alive. The fire wants out. And I’ll give it what it wants.
Carlos trails beside me, matching pace. “She’d go quiet for days. Then act like nothing happened. Like her mind just... blacked it out.”
Hebrokeher. Or carved out pieces she couldn't carry.
“Appreciate the honesty,” I say, voice dead.
“No problem. I’ll take the east side. Get it ready to burn.”
We move through the house like shadows armed with wrath. Every room is soaked. Every floorboard a coffin. The gasoline glugs out like a heartbeat. The house is breathing its last, and it knows it.
By the time we meet again, the air is heavy with fumes and dread.
I’m in the kitchen, pouring the last can over the polished wood, and I swear to God the sloshing reminds me of her. Of Athens. The sound of her need. The sound of me filling it.
I shake my head.
Not now. Not while this house still stands.
“I need to get back to her,” I murmur. “Like lungs need air. Like sin needs confession.”
I rip open drawers. Find what I’m looking for.
Karter’s lighter. Black. Scratched. Probably stolen. Perfect.
I walk to the front entrance. One last look.
My mother’s laughter used to echo off these walls. But that was another life. Another woman. Now it’s just ash and ghosts and things I’ll never get back.
I tear off a paper scrap, light it. The flame dances, hungry, bright, unrepentant.
I toss it in.
Fireroarsto life. Like it’s been waiting for me. Like it’s been starving.
It races across the floor like a beast finally off leash.
Screams follow. Sharp. Guttural.Delicious.
I turn and head back inside.
Smoke chases me through the hallway like a lover. Fear seeps into the wallpaper. The scent of it clings to the air.
Wells has them all lined up in the foyer, guards, staff, a few left-behind stragglers. Kneeling. Weeping.
Carlos steps forward, calm as sin. Gun raised.
Bang.
One drops.
