48. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

Liam

My chest feels like it’s been hollowed out. The space between my ribs has been emptied.

It’s a pit so deep that I can’t tell where it ends. So dark that I’m sure that if anyone will open me up right now, all they’ll see is black.

That worries me. What lurks at the bottom.

A closet door being slammed in my face. An uncontrolled fire.

Why? No fucking idea. I’m just…blank.

My Zippo rests on my office desk. Gold and heavy.

I should reach for it. A flick of my thumb, the familiar flame. I’ll be fine then.

Nothing’s wrong. Nothing’s out of place.

Quinlan’s resting, which is the best thing I could’ve hoped for. After years of being treated like a cash cow, slash the help. Finally, she’s been taking some much-needed time for herself. We get to spoil her.

While I miss stalking her from the camera on her laptop, she never misses a single call. Answers every text.

There’s no reason to worry. I called her about an hour ago just to hear her voice. She was fine. She was waiting for us to be back home.

Our precious woman is fine.

I leave my Zippo untouched, spinning my chair to look at the outside world. At the view from my office. She could be doing the same thing. Staring outside, imagining us here.

Only…I can do more than imagine her.

The cameras I had installed in our home while she was sleeping last week would give me a direct view of her, if she’s in the living room. We won’t be discussing our revenge plans anymore, so we’re not worried about anyone hacking them.

I haven’t used it before. Haven’t felt this empty before, either.

Quinlan will forgive me for the invasion of her privacy. She’ll call me a stalker, maybe even yell at me. I’ll fuck accusations out of her.

End of story.

A few clicks, and I’ll see her. Except…Fuck. I can’t lie to her.

My eyes slam shut. I visualize her instead. Smell her sweet scent. Feel her skin bending. Watch my friends around us, taking turns in kissing her. In living our perfectly normal lives. Our almost happily ever after.

Visualizing it should’ve filled the black hole in my heart.

Nothing. Maybe calling her would fix this.

“Liam.” Damien’s here, his voice urgent.

This has to be something to do with work. Has to be.

Of course it doesn’t.

The bottomless pit in my chest. This endless tumble.

Quinlan.

I’m up on my feet, shoving my chair back. It cracks against the edge of the desk at the force. I spin to find both my friends in my office, their expressions harsh and horrified and what the fuck.

“Where. Is. She.” I don’t recognize my own voice.

“We have to move.” Rome’s knuckles shine brighter than I’ve ever seen them, his fists clenched tight. “Rex and Aria managed to lose our investigators less than an hour ago.”

Can’t move. Can’t do anything.

The Zippo.

Fuck the Zippo. I swipe it off my desk. Bash the damn thing on the furthest wall. “Don’t care. Where. Is. She?”

“They reappeared. Outside our building.”

Mistake . Mistake . Mistake .

The word pushes itself over and over again against my ribs. Quinlan has no idea what Aria looks like.

Mistake .

When we took Quinlan to ourselves, I tore Aria’s photo out of our notebook. Quinlan didn’t need to see this shit if she ever got her hands on it.

A beautiful, pure thing like her shouldn’t be tainted by filth.

Our hands and teeth mark her flesh. Her cunt stretches for us. Her womb is soaked with our cum.

She bears our scars on her stomach. We have hers on our fingers.

She has the signs of our love all over her.

There was no way I’d have let her see Aria. Nothing should’ve stained Quinlan.

Something is doing that.

Aria could be torturing her. Rex could.

And we’re useless fucks standing here . Because of me. Because I’m paralyzed with terror and rage.

My thumb goes to the ring finger on my right hand.

We swore no one would hurt her, and I broke that vow as soon as the words left my mouth. Had she had seen Aria’s face, Damien and Rome wouldn’t have been standing here.

There wouldn’t be this suffocating, sheer terror.

Fuck. This.

“Out.” The damned word I’m too familiar with.

Let me out , Aria, this isn’t funny. It’s been hours. Let me go. Let me go. Please, let me out . Let me out of here.

I won’t be begging her this time. I’ll fucking gut her. I’ll sink my hand into her stomach and pull out her organs one by one. Whatever she did to Quinlan, she’ll pay for it. Tenfold.

A millionfold.

Damien fills me in on the way to his SUV.

“We have people on them,” Damien summarizes when he tells me the whole story.

The investigators found Rex and Aria too late. Failed their job. They couldn’t even catch her when they ran over the fake taxi to stop Quinlan from getting in.

“She’ll be fine,” he grits as he’s driving as fast as he can, cutting off cars while tracking the signal from the investigator’s car.

Nothing slows him down. Not the light turning red. Not the people crossing the road. He blows the horn of his SUV, explaining in so many words that he’ll run over them if he must.

Rome and I don’t say a word. If other people must die so Quinlan can live, then so be it.

Our investigators, as trained in combat as they are, wouldn’t be able to save her. No one would. We’re the only ones who’d take a bullet, a knife for her, anything for her. A fire could consume me, and I’ll die wearing a smile on my face.

As long as she lives.

Damien takes sharp turns in the dwindling traffic, going over the speed limit.

I’m in the seat next to him, too wired to fill in the silence. My nerves are shot. My scars burn, but for the first time, the one on my cheek doesn’t sting the most.

It’s the one on my ring finger. A fitting punishment for failing to prepare Quinlan for this. For failing to transport myself to wherever she is and save her.

We’ll get to her. We’ll get to her, and she’ll be safe and unscathed. Nothing’s happened. Nothing. Has. Happened.

We’ll have her in our arms in no time.

We’ll slaughter Aria and Rex a second after. By the morning, there’ll be nothing left of them. Not even ashes. That’s a motherfucking promise.

Damien takes a shortcut as we’re getting closer to the beeping red dot on his screen.

I want to reach inside the console and grab it. Pull the car that has Quinlan in here, and I. Can’t.

My head pounds.

Rome’s phone rings. Could be either Ace or Gavin, the investigators who are two steps ahead of us. I tune into his conversation without averting my gaze from the screen. That goddamn dot is slowing. What are they doing?

“Talk.”

Waiting for Rome has Damien’s knuckles whitening around the wheel. He’s growling, the sound blending with the feral sound coming out of me.

“The car what ?”

Stopped.

That’s what the dot on the screen does.

They’ve stopped. But she’s okay. Has to be.

“No…” Rome again.

Adrenaline surges into my blood, and I rip the metaphorical door open. I won’t be locked in a closet for this. My panic won’t stop me from saving her.

Nothing will.

“No,” he repeats, throwing a punch at the SUV’s door. “They didn’t crash. You are not telling me their car crashed. Where’s Quinlan? Is she with you?”

“Fuck this,” Damien hisses, pressing the gas paddle for all he’s worth.

A woman runs out of the road when he does. I barely acknowledge her existence.

They might’ve crashed the car to kill her. They might’ve killed Quinlan and then—

“She’s what ?”

“Stop,” I shout before Damien has a chance to turn into the alley where our private investigators are. “Stop the car.”

We’re still moving when I wrench the door open and throw myself out onto the road. Stumble. Stagger.

Break into a run.

Gavin and Ace hover near what must be Aria’s taxi. The car crashed ten feet into the alley, the front is mashed into the wall.

How did it get there?

Don’t care. Don’t care. I do. Not. Care.

“Leave.” With a finger pointed toward the road, I start pulling the door handle. I run faster. I don’t need them there. Don’t want them there.

No one’s going to see Quinlan first. No one’s going to deliver us the bad news. No one’s going to save her but us.

Faintly, I hear footsteps behind me in the dark street.

Could’ve been elephants stomping the street for all I care.

I see her .

I’m at the rear door and my goddamn heart is in my throat. A dull thud comes from there. A shoe beats against the window.

Her shoe.

I’d recognize her sneakers anywhere. I memorized every item in her closet. Every detail about her has been ingrained in my mind.

Into my heart.

Again, again, again. She’s alive. She’s fighting.

With them inside there next to her.

They might be conscious. They might be touching her. Hurting her. Trying to kill her while she’s trapped inside.

“We’re here,” I say. I whisper. I shout. Who knows.

What matters is that I grab the door handle.

“Quinlan.” Damien’s at my side, punching the window with his bare fist while I yank on the handle over and over and over.

Rome’s at the front side, landing his own set of furious blows to the passenger window after the handle gets him nowhere. The glass cracks faster for him.

Good. Good. Thank God for Rome. It’s as though he’s been anticipating this. Like he’s practiced his entire life anticipating this moment.

He won’t hurt himself in his attempts to get to Quinlan. He won’t, because he was made for this. He’ll do it before Damien will break a bone trying. She’ll be fine.

“Quinlan,” he shouts. The glass fractures first. I hear it crack, then bash in. Rome pushes his head in, reaches his arm inside. “Sweetheart. There you are. Come here. Can you take my hand?”

I throw the side of my body on the door. The damned thing is scrunched. With enough force, it could relent. I could help her if she can’t get to Rome.

“Rome,” Quinlan screams. Laughs. She fucking laughs . “I did it. I knocked them out. They’re out cold. Ha!”

The logical thing would’ve been to let Rome come over and break this window for us.

We’re past logic. Past common sense. The three of us.

And she’s laughing .

“Good girl. My good girl. I’m coming for you.” The upper half of Rome’s body disappears into the car, his suit jacket tearing on the broken window.

“I have you.” His fingers wrap around her shin; I see it from my place in the street. “I have you, sweetheart. Come on, we’re getting you out of here.”

He wouldn’t be able to pull her out like that. Any other day, he’d be aware of that. Not today. Not with panic and adrenaline taking over him. Over the three of us.

“I’m trying.”

“Are you getting the door?” Maybe he does see reason. Some. His hand doesn’t leave Quinlan, though.

“Yes.” The damn window cracks for Damien.

“The door’s locked from the inside.” She keeps kicking with her other foot near the spot Damien has splintered.

I don’t tell her it’s jammed from the outside. I don’t because— thank fuck —it relents. It opens for me.

“Damien, out of the way.” A second is all I have in me to offer him. Offer them.

He moves. Rome can’t. Won’t, I think. He can’t take the blow.

I yank on the handle hard anyway, and the door hits Rome when I hurl it as far as it’d go.

He doesn’t waver, his hand squeezing Quinlan’s shin harder.

“Darling.” The name out of Damien’s mouth is relief. The strangled type, barely pushed out of his throat.

I get it. I feel the same. Breathing is a challenge when I see her on top of that bastard, Rex. She was right. His eyes are closed, head slumped to the side. His cheek is on his shoulder and his arms aren’t folded around Quinlan.

But he’s there with her. And Aria’s passed out in the front seat.

They wouldn’t stay that way forever.

Damien moves first. He bats Rome’s hand away from her. A gentle slap, and Rome’s out of the way, pulling himself out of the car.

A heartbeat later, Damien’s inside instead. Hands gripping Quinlan’s hips, his strong muscles yanking her out of there.

“Damien,” she screams, and this, too, sounds a lot like relief. Her gray eyes are frantic, and I know they’re searching for mine. She finds me and her grin has never been wider. “Liam. You’ve found me. I knew you would.”

“Always,” I breathe out the word.

It sends a spiral of warmth through me to watch her alive. In his arms. Damien pins her cheek to his chest, cups the back of her head and presses his lips to the top of her head. Inhales her scent like he needs it to survive. Has to touch her everywhere and make sure she’s okay. That she’s really here.

We all do, but we give him space. And that’s fine. He’s an extension of us and she’s okay, he’s making sure of that.

“Darling. We’ll always find you. Always.” When he draws back, he kisses her so thoroughly, she moans into his mouth. “I’d lose my fucking heart, my goddamn life , before I lose you. Fuck, I love you. Fuck, you’re safe. Fuck, fuck, fuck . Thank God for you.”

“Little flame.” Damien squeezes her one more time, and I have her.

One arm around her back, a hand on her cheek. She’s exquisite, but this isn’t why I can’t look away. Why my eyes roam over her features. The slope of her neck. The outline of her collarbone.

I’m searching for bruises in case Damien was too lost to see them.

“Motherfucker.” There’s one. Her cheek swells. A touch of purple paints her heart tattoo. Ruins it.

Ruins me.

“He didn’t do this.” Quinlan strokes the scar on my cheek, burrowing her body into mine. Comforting me. I can’t stop grinding my teeth. “No one did.”

“The impact.”

“Yes.”

I can’t stop looking at her. Can’t stop myself from brushing my lips to the wound. Kissing it. Licking it. I don’t have an ice pack to make it better for her. Don’t have anything but my heart in my throat and my lips and tongue.

I’m useless. But then she whimpers, and I’m her hero all over again. I’m hard, groaning as I suck and kiss her cheek.

“I love you.” I trail kisses down to her mouth, tilting her face up. Nuzzling her nose.

“I love you too.” Her gray eyes sparkle, pupils wide. “They tricked me. Rex sent me a letter saying my parents were going to kill themselves. When I figured it out…” A bright smile. An unhinged one. “I showed them. I kicked ass.”

Wrath spikes up my spine to the base of my skull. I’m hot and murderous. They used Quinlan’s love against her. Her kindness. Her giant heart and the fear that’s been sown into her life ever since she was five.

Quinlan’s thumbs are soft on my skin. Her reverent touch is sweet.

I fucking love her hands. I love covering her wrists and feeling her pulse.

She’s alive.

There’ll be time and place for my wrath.

Soon.

“Yes, you did, little flame.” I put my forehead to hers. “I’m so proud of you.”

Rome would want to hold her. He already does. I have words to say, though, and so I push them out there.

“I’ve come to terms with the scar on my face. With how it’s changed me. Why it’s there in the first place, it’s all done now. Today…” The breath I draw is hot, but the air doesn’t burn my throat. The corners of my eyes don’t sting. “I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for each painful second. For every time I was mocked and ridiculed—”

“Liam.”

“Shh. Let me finish. It’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Quinlan.” My fingers dig deeper into her wrists. Desperate for her pulse. Ta-dum. Ta-dum. Ta-dum. So fucking strong. “I have you. I have us. I would have my entire body covered in scars if it meant I get to have this”—I crush my lips to hers for one last bruising kiss—“for all goddamn eternity.”

“You wouldn’t need to,” she breathes. “I’m yours. Forever.”

“Ours.” Rome is all violence. It’s pulsing from him. He’s had enough waiting, and he’s right. I release her for him to whirl her into his embrace. His fingers are in her hair, inspecting her. Inspecting the swelling. “You’re ours. Always.”

He growls at the wound. Glowers at it.

“My trophy.” Quinlan raises her fingertips to it, and I hate how it must hurt. I hate how she smiles through the pain. She’ll never hurt again unless it’s us administering it. “For fucking them up. Our boxing classes were worth it.”

“You…” He shakes his head while Damien and I split our attention between them and the worthless pieces of shit who dared kidnapping her. “ You’re worth it, sweetheart. I’d been so lost. So angry. A ticking time bomb, ready to detonate. Until I saw you. Until I had you.”

“I don’t want you to change.” She sounds confused. “Don’t change for me.”

“I won’t.” His rough laugh is the happiest he’s ever sounded. “I’m different, though. You’re a balm to my soul. The tar, the poison, the hurt. They’re gone. Quinlan, you take away the pain. You put love in there. I don’t want to kill people as much when you’re around. I just want you .”

“Rome, I—”

There’s rustling coming from the car.

“What—what is this?” A man’s groan. Rex’s.

“That bitch.” Aria’s anger is muffled.

They’re up.

Rome shoves Quinlan behind his back in an instant. He’s a shield between her and the threat.

Damien reaches for Rex. I squeeze in through the passenger door to get to Aria.

I’m more than happy to watch the horror and indignance in her black eyes and how they flutter shut when I knock her out with one blow to her cheek.

“Hey there, Rex.”

“Get the fuck off me.”

Damien laughs, the sound humorless. Abrasive.

“Lights out, motherfucker.”

Waterboarding is illegal.

No one’s ever said anything about gasolineboarding.

Ha. A joke coming from me instead of Damien.

Revenge turns me into this funny person. My sanity is kind of frayed around the edges, I think.

Do I care?

Fuck. No.

A cruel, unfamiliar laugh bursts out of me. Must be a direct response to Aria’s screams.

Or is it from Quinlan’s smile? From her hand rubbing my shoulder and her sweet voice in my ear?

She says, “Don’t stop. Don’t stop. Don’t stop,” and that’s funny for no other reason than just because.

I do what she says. I don’t stop, dousing Aria’s mouth and nose with gasoline.

Damien presses the cloth to her face. She struggles and I spill more gasoline. He’s laughing for a few seconds, and when he’s done, his smile lingers on his face.

Rome smiles too. He’s done fastening the rope around the naked Rex’s wrists and ankles. The man won’t be able to get off the chair Rome has bound him to. Ever.

The tank is empty by the time Rome joins us, hovering over Aria from Damien’s side.

There’s more where that came from. Gas, I mean. Not people. There are no more people. Only us.

Quinlan and her giant smile, the three of us with our sleeves rolled up to our forearms. With resolve in our hearts.

My family.

That has to be the reason for all this…happiness. For why I can’t seem to control my smile.

That, and that Quinlan’s okay. She didn’t just make it out alive. She took care of these bastards. Did what she had to—and did it fucking well—until we showed up.

Other than her cheek, she’s not injured. We checked her, of course we did, stripping her, there in the dark alley, to make sure there were no bruises. There were none. She didn’t flinch when we ran our hands over her body. Everything was intact.

Then we had to come up with a new plan. And fast.

The zip ties Damien had been keeping in the trunk of his SUV came first. Those were for emergencies, AKA for Jagger.

His clients could get aggressive, though he hadn’t asked Damien for help more than once. Jagger had to lock up an unpaying, violent fuck in his bathroom this one time. That’s when he called Damien. That one incident was enough for Damien. He’s always prepared.

Quinlan heard that story while Damien dug them out. She aw ed at how considerate he was before demanding to meet Jagger when he came back.

By some dumb luck, no car pulled into the alley. One person crossed the street, minding his own business. Thank fuck for cellphones.

The rest—wiping Aria’s taxi and calling the crew we’d hired on retainer for this exact moment—wasn’t luck. Years of planning had brought us to that moment. We hadn’t anticipated this particular mess. Having people and money to deal with the unexpected, though, that helped.

Now, here we are, at a remote warehouse on the outskirts of Chicago. We left the scene squeaky clean and, more importantly, again…

Quinlan is okay.

So, while being happy is fine, drowning in it is not. Losing my mind will have to wait.

“All done.” I bark another laugh, hurtling the orange container to the other side of the warehouse.

It clicks and clacks on the cement floor. Click and Clack.

Well, I guess my temporary insanity won’t go away. Maybe I should just try to tamp it down.

“You got some on you.” Quinlan looks at my arm. At the drop of gasoline that’s missed Aria’s mouth and landed on my forearm.

“That bothers you?”

Her eyes are wide as she gazes at me. Smiling. “No.”

“Me either.” I tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

Then I watch the drop of gas trickling down my forearm and onto the floor. All while Aria gurgles and coughs. Chokes and sputters.

Unpleasant noises from an unpleasant person.

“Quinlan, please, talk to them,” Rex, who hears Aria struggling for air, shouts. “Kid, I didn’t do anything. Tell them to let me go. Dad needs me.”

Quinlan turns her head to him. Slow. Not because she can’t stand the sight of him. Not because she’s scared of him.

The movement reminds me of a predator. Her eyes squint in Rex’s direction, despite him being hidden by Rome’s large frame.

“Rome.”

“No.” My friend stands tall, refusing to get out of the way. He’s protecting her.

“But our little flame doesn’t need protecting.” I bend to kiss her temple. “Does she?”

“I’m good.” Without averting her gaze, she squeezes my filthy forearm. Growls.

“Quinlan.” A threat. Coming from Rex.

Now it’s my turn to gaze past Rome’s shoulder. I look at Rex. And I’m furious.

So is Damien. He keeps the cloth on Aria’s face, shouting over his shoulder. “Don’t you dare say her name again.”

“Fuck you.”

“I can handle that.” Damien winks at Quinlan. “I will indeed fuck her by the end of the day.”

She blushes, her eyelids fluttering at Damien while Rex curses. Her brow furrows when her half-brother won’t shut up, her head snapping in his direction. Fuck, her fury is hot. It even sends a chill up my spin. Damien’s expression grows solemn at the sight, his eyes darkening.

“What would it be, sweetheart?” Rome hasn’t moved, shielding her whether she likes it or not. “You want us to let him go?”

A smirk quirks on Quinlan’s lips. A wicked one. When Rex screams another, “Please,” it’s obvious he senses the shift in her.

Unlike me, she can be as unhinged as much as she’d like. Let loose. Nothing will happen to her when she’s losing it while we’re around.

Before she answers, her attention shifts to Rome’s face. “Never.”

Rome nods. “I’ll handle him, then.”

He spins on his heel, still blocking Rex from Quinlan’s view. I take her face in my hands while Aria squeals and screams. I do that because I have to kiss her. I do it so she won’t have to look at her half-brother while Rome shuts him up with a duct-tape from the metal table.

As she kisses me back, I give her everything I have. Damien leans in, one of his hands curling around the back of her neck, pushing her to me. Together, we spare her from looking at that fuckface. Together, we coax pleasured sounds out of her.

Until I hear the duct tape tear and Rex’s screams are silenced. Until Rome is back.

Damien releases her at the same time I do, the three of us breathing hard. My cock throbs for her swollen lips to wrap around it.

But two people who should be dead are still alive. I can fuck her face later.

I will fuck her face later.

“I hate his voice.” Rome’s lip curls in a derisive smirk. “How’d you stand it?”

“I didn’t.” Damien tugs on one end of the cloth, pulling it toward the floor, then the other, then back again. Wiping Aria’s face like one would a bowling ball, rubbing the gasoline into her pores. Grinning as he keeps talking. “Some days I wonder what was worse, listening to him or having him cut me. Hmm.” He gazes up, wondering while he’s wiping, wiping, wiping Aria’s face. Back to Rome. “The voice. That was worse.”

“Was never a fan of it, either.” Quinlan’s grin widens. She fishes the Zippo we bought in a rest stop on the drive over, flicks it open. We got one for each of us, and they’re heavy in my pants pocket.

I don’t miss the one I left on my office floor. Don’t miss it at all. I’m getting my revenge with or without it.

“So, what’s the plan?” She snaps the Zippo shut, taking a step toward me. Our chests brush. I can practically feel her heart beating. “Are you going to drown her some more, or is it time to light a fire?”

Aria yells, “Noooo,” choking and coughing as the gasoline burns through her throat.

“Fire.” I grab a lock of Aria’s hair, raise it in the air between the four of us, much like I did to Ginnie all those years ago.

It disgusts me now, to touch another woman. To touch her . I do it anyway. One last time. Making sure she dies a slow, agonizing death is what we’re here for.

“Help!” Aria thrashes, doing her very best to free herself.

It’s a wasted breath, telling her it’s impossible. We tied a rope around her neck, tied the other side of it to one of the legs of the chair. What’s more, we’re in the middle of nowhere. Her strangled cries for help will be heard by no one.

There’ll be no getting out of this.

She’s trapped.

Just like she trapped me.

I pull my rest stop Zippo out of my pocket and flick . “Who’s in the dark closet now, bitch?”

“You were always a bastard,” Aria grumbles. Her body straining against the restraints, and I can see the rope digging into her neck. Wonderful. “You burned your own goddamn self. You’re a joke. Let me go, you freak. I don’t deserve this.”

“I have to disagree.” The flame catches her gasoline doused hair. “You deserve nothing.”

I release the soaked strand before it reaches my fingers. Damien releases the cloth to keep himself out of the racing flame’s path. It sneaks higher and higher toward her scalp.

She screams and yanks her body left and right. Pushing against the restraints. A futile fucking attempt.

The heat must scorch her. The pain of fire meeting flesh is agony.

I should know.

I felt it once, what I put Aria through now. Flames lick her cheeks. Her ears. Her mouth.

In a sick sort of way, the sight of her being eaten alive by the fire doesn’t trigger me. Doesn’t take me back to that day.

The smoke. The smell of my burnt flesh.

That’s closure.

Besides, I couldn’t get upset when Quinlan oooh s and ahhh s at the sight. The flames eat up Aria’s hair, her face, and my little flame pulls at my arm, sneaking smiles my way.

My monster still has some area on her body where the flames haven’t reached yet.

My finger tilts Quinlan’s face up to me. “You want to play?”

“Please. I need it.” Embers flicker in Quinlan’s eyes. She told me once she saw embers in my eyes, and I didn’t get it. Looking into her hungry eyes, I finally do. “Can the three of us go?”

Adorable, how she’s asking for my permission. Especially when the answer is obvious.

“Of course.”

A kiss to her forehead and Quinlan’s off. She twists to Aria, doing what she’s been yearning to do over the last couple of weeks.

Flick . Quinlan Spins the Zippo’s wheel. Snaps it close.

“What’s wrong?” I wrap a hand around her nape.

The flames will swallow Aria alive, whether Quinlan adds to them or not. I don’t care about that. I care about what’s going on in her head.

Chin up, smile wide. She looks around at the three of us, returning to meet my eyes. “Together.”

“Together.” Easiest answer I’ve ever had to give.

Four Zippos flick over Aria’s burning head. Four sets of eyes meeting.

This isn’t what I imagined it to be. Me and three other people— my people—setting flames to Aria’s skin. I imagined Rome and Damien watching over me. I imagined hatred followed by detachment.

This, how we stand here as one, far surpasses anything I had in mind.

Words like home , family , peace of mind and revenge are all inadequate.

I’m whole.

Or more like I will be.

Once we’re finished with Rex.

Once I make sure Aria is well and truly gone. I have to make sure she’s dead.

Have to.