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CHAPTER 1
KYLE
HHittingrockbottomgot a whole new meaning once Kyle started hiding in rat infested warehouses. Expensive cars, mansions, and servants tending to his every need seemed like a thing of the past.
The Remingtons flew higher than Icarus, but as long as Kyle was alive, the wax kept on holding. With every ounce of blood his father and twin brother lost, Kyle’s was filled with the need for revenge. His purpose in life was redefined and focused only on one person – his new wife.
Sienna Ryder or Lockwood or whatever name she fancied herself using; Kyle was sure about one thing, she would never be a Carrington. He chuckled darkly, satisfied that he took that option away from the fucking usurpers.
He was lucky to be able to grab the wedding papers before the Carringtons and their goons were on top of him. The memory of stepping over his dearest twin brother’s dead body, then prying the papers out of his father’s clutching hands would never leave him.
Kyle threw a dart at the wall, hitting one of the eight pictures he set up as targets. Tina’s face grinned back at him with the addition of the dart sticking out of her forehead, and even though it was a bullseye, it didn’t make him feel better. That satisfaction would come when they were all dead and the Remingtons would rise again. His eyes took in the people in the pictures, and he muttered their names under his breath as if he was cursing them to a fate worse than death.
“Tina whore Remington. Carrington bastard. Lockwood fucker. Saint Jensen Carrington. Almighty Aiden Carrington. Geeky Xavier Carrington. Man-slut Jaxon Carrington…” he paused, his eyes narrowing, his words holding on to more hate than for any other person before. “My wife, Sienna Remington.”
Kyle grabbed the half-empty bottle of whiskey from the table and chugged it from the top. Closing his eyes, he welcomed the familiar burning in his throat. Drinking helped with numbing the hurt of loss and further fueling his need for revenge.
“Jim,” he barked, calling for his henchman.
A big bulky guy shuffled around the corner, coming into view. His dark eyes were void of emotion, which was exactly the way Kyle liked it. Jim wasn’t the smartest of the bunch, but he was a zealous follower. His family had worked for the Remingtons since Jim’s great-great-grandfather immigrated to the USA from Ireland.
“You called, Sir,” Jim said with the raspy voice of a smoker.
Smoking was the only thing Jim loved more than killing, which was why he figured out a way to combine them. His favorite method of killing was burning people, preferably alive and with a cigarette butt. His thirst for screams was one of the reasons Kyle picked him as his right-hand now that everyone was dead.
“I want an update,” Kyle said without looking at him and instead, focusing on the targets on the wall.
“Everyone’s walled up on the Carrington compound,” Jim told him after Kyle let the dart fly, landing just below Aiden’s left eye. “Tina had been there at the beginning as well, but it’s been reported that she moved into the Aghayan mansion. There’s some story out about her being the Aghayan widow’s niece, but it hasn’t been confirmed yet.”
Kyle’s brows furrowed as he took in the new piece of information. Through her, his twin brother Lyle would inherit that fortune, but now it was too late because he was dead.
“What about my wife?” he asked, putting as much venom as he could into the last word.
“Mrs. Remington is said to be staying in the new Carrington suite with the heirs themselves,” Jim replied, then added, “They leveled up on their security protocols, which makes any talk of infiltration useless. The only way to get to her is outside the walls.”
Kyle scratched his chin thoughtfully and nodded to himself. “It would certainly be the easiest way, but I wouldn’t count out the other possibility just yet.”
He went to the table and wrote down a number in his drunken scribble. After he confirmed it was the right one, he handed it to Jim, who waited for instructions.
“Call this number and arrange a meeting,” Kyle told him. His lips turned up into a wicked smile as he continued, “Be as persuasive as you have to, but make sure that they help us.”
Jim pocketed the piece of paper and nodded. “Yes, Sir. Anything else?”
“Tell me my favorite story,” Kyle said as he sat on the sofa, grabbed the bottle of whiskey, and chugged.
Jim pulled out a pack of cigarettes, removed one, and put it in his mouth. He wasn’t the kind of guy to use a lighter and preferred the feel of the matches between his fingers as he rubbed one against the rough surface, the heat from it ignited the red phosphorus. When he brought it to his face to light up his cig, his empty eyes glowed with every puff he took, until a satisfying amount of smoke made its way up.
“We have them gathered up, tied on wooden chairs in a circle,” Jim started setting the scene, his raspy voice eerie and sinister. “You don’t even need to lift a finger or say a word. I’m waiting on the side, ready for your signal. I know it’s coming soon because I’m already halfway through my smoke. I grab the can of fuel as soon as I saw you stepping away from them.”
Kyle took the opportunity to chug another mouthful when Jim stopped long enough to take in his poison. He kept his eyes closed, bringing the pictures to life.
“The can of fuel is big enough to thoroughly soak them all, which is what I do. I blow smoke at Tina, enjoying the way she flinches when my cigarette comes closer. Her dilated pupils aren’t enough to settle the counts for what she did to Mr. Remington. I want it blown. I want all of them to blow up and burn in hell for what they did to the grand Remington name,” Jim barked with barely restrained anger. “Once the can is empty, I step away, waiting for your signal. You look at me and what you say next is the music to my ears, ‘Make them sing’ and that’s what I do. My cigarette has one more puff in it, but I decide to be kind and not extend their suffering, even though they deserve it. I take the cigarette and throw it at your wife, knowing that you’d want to see her go up in flames first. It was her who started everything. If it weren’t for her, the Remingtons would still stand as strong and proud as ever. They scream and sing the song of the flames.”
“The song of the flames,” Kyle repeated in a whisper. His head turned toward Jim, his lips a ghost of a smile and his eyes blurred over due to the daze of alcohol. “Bring me the girl.”
Wordlessly, Jim nodded and left, returning ten minutes later with a girl on his heels. He didn’t need to wait for the next order and exited the room, giving them privacy. Even before the Remingtons had fallen, Kyle developed an unhealthy obsession, one that he was about to satisfy now.
“Hi, baby,” the cheap hooker crooned but didn’t continue when Kyle narrowed his eyes at her.
