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Michael held the gun and paced back and forth, his eyes wild with intensity. “You both shut up! This is happening whether you like it or not!”
As Turk and Jackson struggled against their bonds, Michael's actions became more erratic, his grip on reality slipping farther away.
Jackson swallowed hard. “Michael, please, you don't have to do this.”
“Yeah, whatever it is, we can talk it out.” Turk’s eyes darted around the room.
Ignoring their pleas, Michael's desperation reached a breaking point.He confronted Sinclair with damning evidence uncovered during his investigation. As they stood face to face, Michael's voice dripped with accusation, “I figure I’d give you a gift before you leave this earth.” His tone was cold, his eyes burning with fury. “The fire that killed them all—Silas was behind it.”
Sinclair's expression twisted with shock and disbelief as Michael revealed the truth. “How... how could you know?” he stammered, his voice trembling with fear.
“I talked to the old town council before I took care of them,” Michael spat, his words laced with venom. “They confessed Silas ordered the fire. Christopher wasn't supposed to be home. It was supposed to kill the grifter and her kid.”
With a single gunshot, Sinclair Waverly fell to the ground, his lifeless body sprawled out on the floor. Michael set the house ablaze, his white phosphorous bombs igniting a deadly inferno.
* * *
As the fire roared downstairs, Liv awoke to the scent of smoke, her heart pounding as she raced downstairs, the heat intensifying with each step. Flames danced hungrily around her as she entered the inferno.
In the center of the blaze, she heard Michael's voice, distorted by anger and madness, as he unleashed a deranged rant upon Jackson. Liv's blood ran cold as she realized the true extent of Michael's instability.
“Jackson, now you need to die, just like your father,” Michael sneered. “And Turk will die as collateral damage, just like Chuck Everhart did. Yes, Lamply killed your father and Liv's dad to preserve the council’s evil deeds. When you're dead, I'll blame the fire on you, Jackson. A broken mind because of your dead father.”
Liv's breath caught in her throat. Her Uncle Fred, the man who was there for her when she grew up. The man who must have felt he needed to be there for her and her sisters out of guilt. She had no time to think about that. They were in danger.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she scanned the room, her eyes darting from one face to another in search of a way to intervene. Panic clawed at her insides, threatening to consume her as she realized she was running out of time.
Her gaze fell on Michael, his eyes alight with psychosis as he ranted and raved, oblivious to the insanity he was causing. But then, just as she was about to act, her eyes met Jackson's across the room.
In that moment, a silent understanding passed between them. They would stop Michael before it was too late. With a tiny nod from Jackson, Liv knew what she had to do.
But as she moved to intervene, she realized with a sinking feeling that Michael was positioned in front of Turk, his body shielding him from her line of fire. With her mind racing and adrenaline coursing through her veins, Liv had to act quickly. She couldn't let Michael continue unchecked.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she steeled herself as she formulated a plan.
She made a split-second decision and tackled Michael to the ground, the force of their collision sending them sprawling amidst the flames.
They grappled for control. Liv's hands closed around the gun, her strength bolstered by adrenaline as she fought to wrestle it from Michael's grip.
“Michael, please. This isn't you. You don't have to do this,” she begged.
“Stay out of this, Liv. You don't understand what I've been through.”
“I know, Michael. I know you've been through a lot, but this isn't the answer. Let's talk about this.”
Michael's eyes flashed with anger as he struggled against Liv's grip, his fingers tightening around the gun. “There's nothing to talk about. You don't know what it's like to feel so lost, so alone. My whole life has been a lie.”
“I know it's been tough, but hurting others won't fix anything. We can help you, but you have to let us.” She coughed hard.
Michael's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of doubt crossing his features as he met Liv's watering eyes. “You really think you can help me?”
“Yes, I do. You have to let me try.” She held on to the gun.
For a moment, Michael hesitated, his grip on the gun loosening slightly. In that moment, Liv saw a glimmer of a chance to reach the man she once knew.
But before she could say another word, Michael's resolve hardened again, his eyes filled with pain. “I'm sorry, Liv. But I can't go back now. It's too late.”
With a sudden burst of strength, Michael pushed Liv away, sending her sprawling to the ground as he raised the gun again. She found her feet and grabbed the crystal ashtray that had previously held Sinclair Waverly’s cigar butt. When her eyes met Michael’s, she swung. The ashtray struck his head with a thud, and he collapsed to the ground.
