Page 131 of His Eternal Claim

I lunge forward, throwing my entire weight as my fingertips stretch through the empty air, trying to catch the hem of her white gown.

The impact is instantaneous.

The car slams into her, and the sheer force throws her body through the air like a broken doll, tossing her yards down the highway before she hits the cold asphalt.

“NO!” A scream tears from my throat.

Before I can even scramble to my feet, the swerving vehicle loses complete control, crashing violently into the fuel barrier at the edge of the road. The fuel tank ruptures, flooding the rain-slicked pavement.

A single spark ignites the dark.

BOOM.

The massive wall of violent orange fire erupts into the sky, expanding across the lanes in a fraction of a second. The heat is sudden, and the flames dance merrily, taking her into their embrace.

“Selene! Selene!”

I drag my bleeding knees, desperately trying to throw myself into the blinding wall of fire to pull her out, to burn with her if I have to.

“No! Hold him!”

Multiple pairs of arms wrap around my torso from behind.

Massimo and three guards tackle me to the ground.

“Let me go! Let me go, damn you! She’s in there! She’s in there!” I roar, my fists striking blindly at the asphalt, my fingers clawing at the stone until my nails crack and bleed.

They hold me tight, dragging me backward as the intense heat singes my skin. I am forced to watch the orange flames swallow the road, swallow the rain, and cremate the only beautiful thing I have ever truly possessed.

I stop fighting. My arms go limp against the wet asphalt. I stare into the bright, dancing inferno, the reflection of the fire burning in my deadened eyes. The ghost has finally escaped the cage.

The inferno paints the night red, a beautiful, screaming hell that grants her final wish.

We will never meet again.

Phase Three

III

The Ghost

Chapter 50

Aftermath

THE MAESTRO | Present

The second I step into the corridor, all hell breaks loose.

Gunfire erupts from the west wing. Glass explodes somewhere overhead. Smoke pours through the marble hallway while men scream orders in Italian and Russian over one another.

“Vitale!” Kyle’s voice snaps in my earpiece.

“Status.” I slam my shoulder into the first man charging the stairwell and drive my knife straight through his throat, his blood coating my hand.

Hot blood sprays across my face. He collapses, choking. I am loving it.

“Where is she?” I ask.