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Prologue
Gage
I jumpout of my car, the menacing downpour coming at me sideways, and sprint into a home I frequent more than my own.
Her door is unlocked.
No shocker.
She’s expecting me.
My shoes squeak against the wood floor as I charge down the hall and find her in the bedroom. She’s parked on the edge of the bed, her frail body motionless, while a dangerous storm brews in her ice-cold blue eyes.
Eyes pointed in my direction.
“Where is he?” I scream. My voice cracks at her detached facade.
“Gage.” Her tone is calm. Controlled. Not what any sane person would have in this situation. “Let me explain.”
“What did you do, Missy?” My voice grows louder, angrier, more venom flowing with every sharp, nervous word spit out. “What the fuck did you do?”
“It’s all your fault, you know,” she fires back. “If you had loved me right, none of this would’ve happened!”
“You did this out of spite for me?”
I move closer at the sound of sirens in the background. Determination thrums through me to get to her before they do, and I drop to my knees, prepared to plead if need be.
“Where is he?” I stress, tears biting at my eyes.
Her smile is wicked. “You’ll never know.” Those four words kill me yet satisfy her as she sings them out.
Seconds later, footsteps grow louder, and the police start filing in.
“Be prepared to rot in a cell for the rest of your life,” are the final words I say before they haul her away.
One
Lauren
Four MonthsLater
“I didn’t setmy apartment on fire!”
At least, I don’t think I did.
My nails press into my palm, an attempt to stop myself from smacking the smirk off my asshole of a landlord’s arrogant face.
Ronnie—said asshole—widens his grin. “Tell that to the police.”
“The police?” I shriek. “You called the cops?”
“Sure did.”
He gestures toward what’s left of the burned-down complex I’d called home this morning. Thankfully, the firefighters extinguished the flames and are loading their supplies back into the truck while my neighbors watch. My apartment has been reduced to rubble and ashes, my belongings scorched, and Ronnie the Dick found it necessary to point the blame at me.
He chuckles. “Perfect timing. They’ve arrived.”
His threat doesn’t alarm me as much as it should, and I force a smile before swinging around. This will be cake. Flirting has saved me from countless speeding tickets. They’ll take one look at me and know I’m not some pyromaniac.
