Page 96 of The Reckoning
“Lilian,” she hisses. “What an ungrateful little bitch you turned out to be, huh?” I open my mouth to speak, but she’s not finished. “I did all of this for you. To give you the best life possible. A beautiful home, a last name that would open doors for you, and an endless future. I wanted you to have the perfect life, and this is how you repay me?”
Each word is a slap, stinging and sharp. My throat tightens, emotion threatening to choke me. Despite everything—despite the lies, the manipulation, the drugging—some childish part of me still craves her approval. Still wants her to be the mother I thought she was. The betrayal cuts deeper than I thought possible, reopening wounds I didn’t even know I had.
I swallow hard, forcing the words past the lump in my throat. “Repay you? How can you act like the victim in all of this? For years, you drugged me and used fabricated medical conditions to keep me in a box, your box. You made me believe I was broken. That I was weak.” My voice comes out stronger than I expected, steadier.
The truth gives me strength I didn’t know I possessed.
“I made you better,” she snaps. “Improved you. Without me, you’d be nothing. Just another timid girl trying to make her way in the world.”
I recoil as if she’s struck me. The casual cruelty, the dismissal of my entire existence outside of her control—it’s breathtaking in its totality. This is the truth of how she sees me—not as a daughter, not as a person, but as a possession. A project. A means to an end.
Time seems to freeze as she raises the gun higher, her aim steadying. Her finger tightens on the trigger, her eyes cold and empty. “None of that matters now, though. If I’m going down, I’m taking my little whore of a daughter with me.”
The words hang in the air for a heartbeat, two. I can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t think. I’m frozen, a rabbit caught in headlights, as I stare down the barrel of the gun. My own mother’s gun, aimed at my heart. I don’t see Aries move, but he does.
One moment, he’s at the edge of the room, and the next, he’s launching himself at my mother like a force of nature, all coiled muscle and barely contained rage. Everything happens so fast—a blur of motion, a cry of surprise from my mother, the gun swinging wildly, then one, two, gunshots that split the sound in the room with a deafening crack.
What happens next seems to unfold in slow motion.
A massive explosion of flames shoots upward from the fireplace, the force of it knocking everyone backward. The acrid smell of accelerant fills the air—that bullet hit something it shouldn’t have. Heat blasts across my face, singeing my eyebrows, as flames race across the carpet with unnatural speed.
And then there’s screaming.God, the screaming.
My mother is engulfed in flames, her perfect silk blouse transformed into a shroud of fire. Aries, too—his arm, his side, patches of flame eating away at his clothes, at his skin.
I lunge forward instinctively, reaching for him, but Arson is there first, grabbing a throw blanket from the couch and beating at the flames on his brother’s body, dragging him toward the door.
“Help her!” I scream, turning toward my mother, but strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me back.
“No!” Hector shouts in my ear. “It’s too late! We need to get out!”
It’s only then I notice Richard on the floor, no one moving to save him either. Did he get knocked out with the blast?
“But Richard!” I scream, trying to get someone’s attention. But everyone is too busy trying to save themselves.
The room is rapidly filling with thick black smoke as flames climb the curtains and engulf the bookshelves. Everyone races toward the door—Drew, Lee, Sebastian,, Hector’s men. No one moves to help my mother. No one moves to help Richard. No one looks back.
Outside, on the porch, the cold air hits my lungs like a hammer from the inside out after the searing heat inside. I gasp, choking on smoke, tears streaming down my face. My throat feels raw, whether from screaming or from the smoke, I can’t tell. My skin prickles with heat, too close to the flames for too long.
Aries breaks away from Arson, his shirt half burned away, angry red welts already forming on his skin. The burns look painful—blistering, weeping—but he moves as if he doesn’t feel them, driven by some purpose greater than pain. He turns back toward the door, his face a mask of determination.
“Is anyone else in there?” he demands, looking at Lee.
His voice is hoarse, roughened by smoke, but still commanding. Even injured, even in chaos, something about him demands attention and exudes control.
Lee shakes his head, hair falling into his eyes, face streaked with soot. “No, I cleared it out last night when things got hot. Made sure everyone stayed with friends.”
Relief flashes across Aries’s face, so brief I almost miss it.
“Richard,” I gasp out.
“Good,” he says grimly, closing the door firmly as he deliberately meets my eyes.
The screaming inside intensifies, rising to an inhuman pitch that makes my stomach turn. It doesn’t even sound like mymother anymore—just pure agony given voice. A sound that will haunt my nightmares for years to come. I sob, lunging for the door, unable to process what’s happening. She’s a monster, yes. A murderer. But she’s still—she’s still?—
“Mom!” I cry, fingers scrabbling at the doorknob. The metal is hot, burning my skin, but I don’t care. “MOM!”
It’s pure instinct, this need to save her despite everything. The rational part of my brain knows it’s too late, knows she’s beyond help, knows what she’s done—but the child in me, the part that still remembers bedtime stories and Band-Aids on scraped knees, can’t accept what’s happening.
