My mind reeled. Had Max really come to see me at my place? Or was I naively buying into his lie, and he’d actually been stalking me again?
This wasn’t right. It wasn’t normal for me to feel all warm and tingly at the prospect of him following me without my knowledge. Something was very wrong with me. Or maybe the fiery chemistry we shared had burned up all reason, leaving me craving more of our intense, dangerous connection.
“Fine.” Davis jerked his chin in the direction of the street. “You can leave now. She doesn’t want to see you, okay? So stay away from our Allie, douchebag.”
A shadow ticked along Max’s jaw, and he snapped a short nod. He turned on his heel and started to stride away, his hulking form edging back toward the shadows that would keep him safe from my friends’ judgmental stares.
“Wait, Max,” I called after him, the plea leaving my lips before I could think better of it. All I knew was that my heart ached for him, and I wanted to make his pain go away.
He jerked to a stop, as though I’d bound him with rope. But he didn’t turn to face me. He didn’t expose himself to the angry glares of my friends again.
“Thank you,” I said softly.
He remained utterly still for a long, breathless moment. Then, he released a short, low rumble and stomped away, each step taut with strain. Did he not want to leave me? Or was that tension from the toxic mix of rage and pain that tormented him constantly?
I took a small step, instinctively moving to comfort him. Charlie’s arm firmed around me ever so slightly, grounding me.
“That guy is bad news, Allie,” she said in an undertone. “Let him go.”
“He just looks scary at first.” I defended him. “But he’s not. He’s hurt and angry.”
“Yeah, it’s the anger part that worries me,” Charlie countered. “He’s clearly unstable. It’s good that you broke things off with him.”
“Yeah,” Isabel agreed. “I won’t lie; that scar freaked me out at first when he was all snarly and pissed off. But he’s on edge, Allie. He came to your house looking for you without texting in advance. That’s not good.”
She didn’t have the slightest clue about the extent to which he’d actually stalked me, and she was already worried.
What was wrong with me? My friends could plainly see that Max was dangerous, but I still felt a tug at the center of my chest, urging me to follow him. He’d already melted into the night, and my eyes strained to find his powerful body amongst the shadows.
“I take back everything I ever said about the Beast being hot. We’ve been watching too much Beauty and the Beast,” Davis declared. “I don’t care about Max’s scar, but the imminent violence thing is not hot in real life. You’re way better off without him, Allie.”
“Come on,” Charlie urged. “Let’s get to your place and curl up on the couch. We can all relax and forget the bastard ever bothered you.”
“He really did save me from that man who was taking pictures of me,” I protested. “The guy had his arm around me and was telling me to smile for a selfie. It was really uncomfortable.”
“Aw, babe,” Isabel said, her bronzed features pinching with regret. “I’m sorry that happened. We should’ve come outside with you. But still, that Max guy is bad news. He’s clearly dangerous.”
I bit my lip. I had nothing to say to counter that. Max was dangerous. And if I was being honest with myself, it was part of why I was so drawn to him. He was a danger to anyone who threatened me, and all that raw, masculine power rippling beneath my tender touch made me hot and shivery.
I would’ve fucked you. The blood of your mother’s murderers runs in my veins, and I would’ve taken everything you offered me without saying a word about it. I am a monster, Allie.
I played his cruel words through my head on a loop, allowing the pain he’d inflicted to swallow me whole. The wrenching agony of his betrayal was the only thing that kept me grounded and prevented me from running after him.
My shoulders slumped, and I allowed my friends to steer me back in the direction of safety, of sanity.
I didn’t want Max. I couldn’t.
Smoke burned my lungs, smothering my ability to breathe. The familiar robin’s egg blue wallpaper of my childhood bedroom cracked and curled, burning to wispy embers. They floated around me like glowing snowflakes, falling so thickly that they clouded my vision. I choked on the ash, and terror burst through my entire body.
I flung my covers aside and dropped off the edge of my mattress, huddling close to the floor to get underneath the worst of the smoke that charred the inside of my chest. Blindly, I reached above me, and my fingers scrabbled over my nightstand. They closed around the too-hot gold of my locket. I ignored the way the metal burned my fingertips and clutched my treasure tightly.
The walls of my bedroom suddenly burst into flames, coalescing into an arched inferno that surrounded me. There was only one way forward, one way to escape.
“Allie!” My dad screamed for me, his voice echoing down the tunnel of fire.
My heart slammed against my singed ribs. My parents were somewhere in the house. They could be dying right now, while I huddled and choked in the husk of my bedroom.
Daddy screamed my name, over and over again.
I didn’t hear Mom at all.
My palm blistered beneath my locket, and my fingers pressed the burning metal tighter against my skin, not caring if it branded me. I needed my mom.
I crawled through the fiery tunnel, which had taken on the familiar path of the hallways in my home. All the walls had turned to flame. The fire licked at our family photos on either side of me. They crinkled at the edges, curling inward and crumbling to ash.
Daddy kept yelling for me, his voice growing louder as I neared what had once been our kitchen.
I still didn’t hear Mom.
My stomach twisted, and my burning lungs singed my heart.
Mom! I tried to call out for her, but the smoke had torn away my voice. I coughed on a mouthful of ash, and tears blinded my vision.
I blinked hard, and suddenly, I was huddled at the entrance to our kitchen. The flames were gone, but I still couldn’t breathe.
Mom lay sprawled on the floor, blood covering the white tiles beneath her in a growing crimson pool. Her familiar baby pink pajamas were torn and stained red, her chest a gory mess. Daddy crouched over her, pressing his hands into the deep wounds as though he could somehow keep the blood from flooding out of her body.
She stared at me, her peridot green eyes blank and cold.
Dead.
The distinctive scrape and sizzle of a match being struck grated down my spine. A tiny yellow flame danced between my father’s fingers. Tears glistened on his cheeks, his features twisted with anguish.
“No!” I tried to scream, but my throat had been burned raw by the smoke. I couldn’t make a sound. I couldn’t move.
All I could do was watch as he dropped the match onto my mother’s lifeless body. It burst into flames, immediately consumed by fire.
Gone. She was gone. Burned up to nothing.
Daddy’s hands closed around me, locking me against his chest as the entire kitchen blazed into another tunnel of fire. My dad’s hands were wet and slick against my skin. Horror turned my stomach when I saw the red bloodstains that seeped onto my white nightgown where he clutched me tight.