Page 117 of Burning For You

He’d pressed his boots into the tracks already left behind by workers so nothing stood out.

It was so easy to walk inside with no doors or windows. Like an open invitation for some fun.

He’d barely been able to contain his laughter as he struck that match and held it to the rag. The heavy bottle full of gasoline arched in the air as he tossed it against the wall and watched it shatter, spread, and climb.

The fire was greedy. Just like him.

Alive, the way he felt in that moment.

He should have run. That was the smart move.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

He stood there, framed in the doorway, watching it sizzle, listening to the crackle deepen, feeling the heat lick at his skin like never before.

Only when it felt complete did he step back, retrace his path, and stroll down the street like any other passerby.

The rush stayed with him, the heat, the closeness, the power. Then came the aftermath. The Lancasters standing together, helpless, watching everything they’d built burn.

And Skye. Her arms wrapped around Ash, trying to hold him after he’d battled the blaze. That was the finishing touch.

All of them clinging to each other, scrambling, searching for answers that would never come.

What a perfect night it had been.

29

CROSSED A LINE

“That’s a hell of a story,” Kyle said the next morning, her editor’s voice almost giddy with excitement. “And the house your brother’s working on. Do you think it’s connected?”

Skye blew out a breath. She’d already decided she was done staying quiet.

It was time to push back.

Whoever this was hadn’t just crossed a line, they’d stepped straight into her life. Into her family. This wasn’t a vague threat anymore. It was personal.

And she wasn’t backing down. Not now. Not after last night.

“Here’s the thing,” she said. “I’ve got another story I want you to read first. Before we talk. That’s why I called you.”

Kyle hesitated. “Another story?”

“Read it. I just sent it. Then I’ll explain.”

She waited while the editor—who’d bought most of her work over the past few weeks—read the truth this time.

About the arsonist. About the messages.

About how he wasn’t just committing crimes, he was almost performing for her. Feeding her details. Waiting for her reaction. Waiting for his scene to make it onto the page.

Waiting for the big one. Like he was the main attraction and she was his audience.

The bastard got his attention last night.

But he’d made a mistake. He’d touched her family.

And that meant the game had changed.