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She scoffs, and I add, “Or I can help Detective Lee convict you for attempted murder and fraud when he finds out you’ve stolen nearly half a million dollars from university students.”
Something in my chest tightens when her face drops.
“I helped you,” she cries, “I gave—”
My hands are in her hair before I realize I’ve tipped her head up, my lips hovering over hers. “You gave me nothing but a conviction. Those innocent eyes might have fooled me before, but they don’t anymore.”
Her lips quiver as she squeezes her eyes shut, blessedly saving us both from any more lies.
I step back and inhale, unclenching my hands and calming the rage burning under my skin. Van Gogh would set everything she loved on fire, but Alistair Cain would make her pay for the life she took in a more boring way—legally.
All who wrong me pay for their actions—even those I once loved.
Calmer, I level my gaze with her now-tearless eyes. If we were still friends, I would be proud that she’s standing here, facing down the devil as if she alone can defeat him.
My determined little sunflower, always fighting for the pinhole of light in her dark world. We made the perfect duo: her goodness, a soothing balm to my darkness.
But like everyone else, she feared the hungry demon inside me—the one who was scarred and broken. Her salve never stood a chance with him. So, she did what everyone else did—she saved herself at my expense.
And for that, I will punish her as they did me.
She’ll have to choose: save the life she knew and face the consequences of her crime or serve her time by my hand and let everything she gained by her betrayal burn.
I only offer two options: run or burn.
Fortunately for Reese, she knows the truth. Wherever she runs, I will find her, and my fire will grow bigger each time until I’ve burned entire cities in her name. It’s a simple decision for those who care about the lives of others—even fuckers like Blake.
“What’s it going to be, love? Should Blake and those idiot friends of his burn tonight? Detective Moron would love a jelly doughnut in the morning for solving a case.”
I grin and make a tsking noise as I reach for a wayward strand of her golden hair. “After all, most crimes are born from passion.”
She slaps my hand away, glaring defiantly. “They will know it wasn’t me.”
Her faith in humanity is adorable.
“I think you’re giving Detective Dumbass too much credit. When he finds proof that you’ve been scamming Blake and his friends, he’ll have no problem accepting the theory that after you failed to kill Blake in the woods, you went home, grabbed a can of gasoline, and came back to finish the job. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.”
I shrug and slip my hands into my pockets. “No one would blame you, you know? Detective Lee would do the same if he were in your position. After all, humans are notorious for valuing their lives above others. Setting fire to Blake’s frat house would save you. No evidence. No Blake. No witnesses.
“The question is, Flower, will you sacrifice Blake’s future for yours?” Like you did mine? “Or will you own your crimes and pay the price?”
I didn’t expect the sting to my cheek that followed my question, but I appreciated it as much as my cock did.
“Did that make you feel better, love?”
I don’t bother touching the heat where her palm landed. “If not, I’ll turn the other cheek, and you can have one more go, but let me remind you, those strikes come at a price.”
The mouth that used to captivate me for hours tips at the corner mockingly. “Let me spare your brain from thinking up these threats.” Like earlier in the interrogation room, she leans in, eliminating any space between us, knowing it makes me uncomfortable. “You didn’t scare me before, and you certainly don’t scare me now”—she presses her lips chastely against mine and chuckles—“Husband, or is it guard?”
It’s this behavior, this fearless spirit, that I’ve always admired. Too bad I’ll have to break it.
Reaching into my back pocket, I pull out a match—something she’s seen me do many times—and hold it between us.
“Speaking won’t be necessary,” I say, flipping the match between my tattooed fingers. “Forbidden even.”
She jerks back at the rule. “And if I disobey?”
Faster than her gaze can track, I strike the match against my belt buckle and hold it to her face. She doesn’t even flinch at the heat licking her skin.
