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“Yes,Hawk,” Prophet Andrew drawled, stepping into view. “You better get out. Don’t worry. I will look after Missy in the afterlife.”
That was it.
“Get everyone out of the house,” I told Bishop before pulling my club cut up over my head and running directly at the flames. The heat lapped at my body, like hands reaching out, grabbing for me.
I didn’t stop on the other side and slammed full force into the prophet. The cane flew from his hand, and his feeble fucking body hit the floor a few feet away. I swear I heard bones crunch, and it felt fucking good.
Missy ran at me, and I wrapped her tight in my arms and buried my face in her neck. “Thank fuck you’re okay.”
She pulled away, her hands gripping my arms. “Hawk, we’re never going to be able to get out that door and down the stairs without getting seriously burned.”
I looked back, the entire wall and door were consumed with fire, and it’d crawled out into the rest of the house, making its way toward the staircase. The thick layer of smoke was building, and the ceiling was barely visible as it filled the room from the top down.
I spun, turning twice before I grabbed hold of the bed in the center of the room and began to push it toward the wall. There was a small window, too high for us to reach from the floor, but the bed had a sturdy wooden frame we could use to get up and out.
I slammed the bed hard against the wall and climbed onto it, pressing my face to the glass.
There was a small roof outside, about four feet wide. Taking off my club cut, I wrapped it around my fist, pulling it back before driving it hard into the glass. The window cracked but didn’t shatter, so I hit it again. This time glass went flying. I quickly popped out as much of the glass as possible before covering the bottom of the window with my leather and climbing off the bed.
“Go! Climb out and yell for help.”
Missy coughed, shaking her head, but before she could protest, I grabbed her by the hips and lifted her onto the bed.
“Go, dammit. I’ll follow you out.”
She was struggling. Coughs wracked her body so intensely that she fought for even a small breath. The smoke was growing thicker and thicker by the second, and the heat from the growing flames was beginning to scorch my skin as they swallowed up the walls.
“Go!” I hissed. “Please. Get out.”
Tears were sitting on her bottom lashes. She blinked, and they dripped onto her cheek. My heart felt like it was tearing in two as she finally turned away, climbed onto the bed frame and pushed her body through the small window.
I would follow her out.
But there was one last thing I needed to do.
One thing I knew would change things.
Important things.
I pulled my shirt up over my mouth to protect my lungs, at least a little. Then, I turned and stomped across the room, trying not to pause to simply enjoy the way Prophet Andrew was dragging his body across the floor, his hand stretched out, reaching for his cane. Maybe I should have felt something other than pure joy as I watched this frail old man desperately fight for his life.
But then I remembered all the pain he’d caused.
To me.
To the people I loved.
Grace, Missy, Kadey, Bishop.
The hell he had put all the people who trusted him to lead them to a place of peace and eternal happiness. They gave their lives and were ready and prepared to give their futures to this man who had only ever looked out for himself and his damn ego.
I snatched the cane off the ground just as his fingertips brushed the polished wood.
“Help me!” he rasped, scratching at the floor with his nails and looking up at me.
He looked so weak.
So helpless.
