We walk out together.
The night air hits hard, cold against skin that still feels hot. Beau strikes the match without ceremony and tosses it back through the open doorway. The flames catch instantly.
Whoosh.
The sound is violent and greedy. Fire races along the gasoline trails like it has been waiting for permission. The mansion lights up behind us.
As we walk back to the car, neither of us speaks. There is nothing left to say.
I am not proud of what I did. But I don't regret it either. There is no coming back from this.
The old Brooke would have felt fear, remorse, and guilt. She would have shaken apart under the weight of what she had done. She would have questioned herself until nothing of her remained.
That version of me died at the hands of their sons.
I glance back once.
The fire has already taken hold of the house. Flames climb the walls and burst through the windows as glass shatters and heat rolls outward in violent waves. The Grants are gone along with their walls, their money, their power, and their bloodline.
Everything they built ends here.
I turn away from the fire and walk into the dark, leaving nothing behind but ashes and the promise that Colin Grant is next.
Chapter 62
Seth
Ikill the engine before I step out of the car.
The door slams behind me as I move toward the house, my focus already locked in. I take the steps fast, clear the entry in seconds, and shove the front door open.
I scan the room without breaking stride, clearing corners, checking the hallways, clocking anything that could be a threat.
A gun snaps up.
“Holy shit,” Travis blurts, lowering it a second later. “Dude. We thought you went off the rails. We weren’t sure if you were gonna come back.”
“I needed space,” I snap.
Travis lets out a breath and drags a hand over his face. “Well, you could’ve gave us a heads up, man, before going all rogue. Tell me you didn’t just walk into that gala blind.”
“I handled it.”
“Handled how?”
“I killed Victor and everyone there.”
Travis freezes for half a second, then blinks like his brain needs to catch up.
“Jesus Christ… Okay.”
A beat. Travis exhales through his nose, already pivoting.
“Fine. You said you had something.”
I reach into my jacket and toss the drive across the room. It slides across the table and stops near his laptop.
“That’s Victor’s,” I say. “Everything he had on the Collective is in there. Find Grant.”
