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ADRIK
“Adrik, is that—Oh, God… Adrik, what’s happening?”
Emery’s voice is teetering on the verge of coming completely undone. But now is not the right moment for that.
“We don’t have time for this shit,” I snarl. I prick up my ears. The sirens are getting closer. No more than five minutes out.
It’s not a complex answer by any means. Yasha dumped a missing man’s body in the middle of my foyer and called the cops. A plus B equals C, and no amount of bribery can keep a homicide detective from pointing at me as suspect number one. Open and shut case, really.
I unlock the door that leads down to the dungeon and fling it open. Emery hesitates next to me, no doubt remembering the last time we were here together. But when I flip on the light switch and take the stairs two at a time, Emery follows me down into the dim, dank air.
“So he’s framing you,” she says cautiously. I can practically hear the gears in her head churning as she tries to make sense of it all. “But… but… Pietro was bad, right? He was a Volandri! And a predator! You—I mean, if anything, you helped the police out, right? Shouldn’t they thank you?”
I laugh bitterly. “If only the rest of the world had your rose-colored glasses.”
“This isn’t the time to make me feel stupid,” she snaps. “Tell me what is going on so I can help.”
I stop walking so suddenly that Emery smashes into my back. I grab her shoulders and force her eyes up to mine. “You can help me by getting the fuck out of here, Emery.”
She shakes her head immediately, as stubborn as ever. “Not a chance, Adrik. I’m sticking with you.”
“Listen to me,” I growl. “The police in this city eat out of the hand of whoever pays them the most. Yasha knows down to a cent what I pay those corrupt motherfuckers, so it’s simple business for him to get the Volandris to offer more. That leaves me fucked for the time being. But I’ll be cold and dead before I let them lay so much as a finger on you or Isabella. Do you understand?”
“No!” she cries out. “I don’t understand anything! Why would Yasha do that? He just wants to take over the Bratva?”
“Either that, or destroy it so no one else can have it.” I grimace. “I’m starting to think he just wants to set the world on fire so he can dance in the heat.”
With that, the time for explanations—not there was time to begin with—is over. I turn around and rip open the cabinet built into the wall. Inside is a mess of torture equipment. Pietro was extremely familiar with all of it.
I reach in and pull out a can of gasoline and a book of matches.
“A fire?” Emery gasps. “But… the house—”
“Will be empty if I get sent to prison for murder,” I finish. “Now, you need to go so I can take care of this.”
Emery grabs my arm. “No. I can’t leave you. Let me help. Please.”
“No. Stay out of the way.”
“Adrik, please—”
“Isabella needs a parent,” I tell her as I start splashing gasoline inside Pietro’s old cell. He didn’t have many belongings to begin with, but I want the thin blanket and roll of toilet paper to burn. Along with all of the DNA evidence.
She’s still going. “We’ll do this together, and then—”
“I told you already: no one is touching you. They can come at me. I’m built for this. But I swore an oath to keep you safe. This is what that looks like.”
She whimpers. “I can’t… I can’t leave you here alone. I can’t—”
“You’re playing into Yasha’s hands right now,” I snarl. “You’re doing what he wants. For once in your whole goddamn life, just fucking listen to me. Leave."
The acrid stench of gasoline is thick, unpleasant. My nostrils burn. I turn around and yank the collar of Emery’s shirt up over her nose and mouth.
“You shouldn’t be here. It isn’t safe.”
She sighs. "Okay. Where do I go?"
I quickly give her instructions on how to get to Stefan's house from here. It’s close enough to walk—or run, rather.
"Stick to the trees," I warn her. "And if you get caught, tell the police you escaped from my dungeon. Tell them you fought me off and escaped.”
She gasps. "No!"
"Yes," I insist. "Save yourself, Emery. If I do a good enough job here, there won't be any evidence to convict. And you can refuse to testify. But if they catch you—"
"Tell them you tortured me," she says, fighting back a sob. "I'll tell them you held me hostage."
I shrug. "It's not so far from the truth, right?"
Suddenly, Emery throws herself at me. It's a brief kiss, but she puts everything she has into it. Her hands curl into my hair, her mouth opens, her tongue slides past mine. When she pulls away, tears are streaming down her cheeks.
“It’s not the truth,” she murmurs. “Not at all.”
I kiss her forehead. “I know.”
She looks at me once more, her green eyes glassy in the dim light. Then she takes off down the hallway at a run. My heart aches as she disappears into the shadows.
I trail a line of gasoline down the hallway and then head back up to the entryway. The sirens are even louder now. I have precious little time left.
“Fuck you, Yasha,” I growl to myself as if he can hear me.
I drag Pietro to the edge of the rug he’s on and start rolling him up in it until he’s bundled tightly. Then I haul the whole assembly down the corridor.
The rug makes moving Pietro a lot easier, but a dead body is always a heavy son of a bitch. It takes me longer than I’d like to get him to the top of the stairs. But once I do, I shove the rug down them.
The fire won’t completely destroy his body, but it will make things complicated for the police. Plus, a mutilated body makes it easier for someone on the inside to help me out. Pietro has been missing for years. No one is looking for him. Slip some money to the coroner and the detectives and suddenly, I’ve got a dead drifter in my dungeon. Maybe he’s on drugs. Maybe he broke in and burned the place down.
There will be more options. I just have to survive long enough to reach them.
I follow Pietro’s mangled corpse to the foot of the stairs, unroll the rug, and pour gasoline all over it. One thought runs through my mind.
I should’ve done this ten years ago.
The sirens are loud enough that I can hear them even through the thick, sound-proofed walls of the dungeon. This will have to suffice.
Well, this and one more thing.
Stefan told me I was batshit crazy when I explained what I’d had inserted into the walls of the house. “You can’t rig your fuckin’ house with latent explosives,” he bleated.
“Then how come I already did?”
“What if they go off accidentally?”
“Then I’ll either get a refund,” I said. “Or I’ll be too dead to care.”
It’s a simple concept: a self-destruct button. Wipe the slate clean. Erase all tracks. Men in my position know the value of such a tool.
I run to the end of the hallway and open the hidden door set into the stone wall. I leave my shoes behind since they’re soaked in gasoline and step through the door into the stairwell.
The sirens sound like they are just outside the front door when I pull the matches out of my back pocket.
“It’s now or fucking never,” I say as I strike the match and toss it into a puddle of gasoline.
A fireball erupts instantaneously.
The heat of it sears my skin like a cattle brand. I stumble back but I don’t retreat just yet. I want to ensure the fire is going to make it to the rug.
I can’t hear anything over the sound of the flames crackling, so I have no clue where the police are, if they are inside, if they are almost on top of me. But it’s too late to care.
The flame flashes down the hallway and then encircles the rug, surrounding it in walls of heat. It eats away at the edges but refuses to go further. Every second I stand here waiting, the inferno in front of me grows hotter.
“Burn, motherfucker, burn,” I growl under my breath.
Finally, just as my eyebrows are beginning to singe, the flames begin to devour the rug and its contents, chewing up the fabric, the blood, the flesh, the bones.
That’ll have to do.
I turn and sprint up the rear stairs. The door to the outside is solid metal and stuck from disuse. When I first shove on it, it doesn’t budge. For a brief second, I think I’ve sealed myself in my own fiery tomb.
And for one second after that, I wonder if it’s the right way to go. Fitting, in a morbid sense. Done in by my own paranoia, my own ego.
But then I remember what’s waiting for me out there.
