Page 146 of Reckless Vengeance

Once inside, I searched my mom’s name on the internet, finding photos of her laying on a fucking yacht. Her new boyfriend was with her, boasting about their new beachside home.

She’d left town like I’d wanted, but it stung that she hadn’t even told me herself.

Why did I care?

“Fuck!” I shouted, grabbing a chair and throwing it across the kitchen. I grabbed another before starting to grab anything else to throw, letting out all my anger as I destroyed the kitchen.

Once I started, I couldn’t stop, storming through the house in my rage.

They never cared about me, I knew that, but they weren’t just causing trouble for me, they were causing trouble for everyone else around me too.

This house was never a home, and it never fucking would be.

Something inside me really snapped in that moment, tossing blankets and furniture into the middle of the living room. My hands shook as I shouted and threw things, my crash out continuing until the familiar smell of smoke filled my senses and my body instantly calmed from it.

My lighter clicked in my hand as I flicked it absently, watching as the orange glow ignited the room. For a second, I considered standing still and letting the whole place burn around me, knowing if I was gone that they’d eventually leave Rory and the guys alone, but what would that do to her?

Would she ever get over me? Would I haunt her every thought? It was possible she’d blame herself, and that was what made my feet start moving from the room. The lack of sleep and the comedown I was riding was definitely not helping me think clearly, and I thought I was hallucinating when I entered the kitchen to find Rory running inside.

“Hey, baby. Did you bring marshmallows?” I cackled, my voice sounding funny. No, I was just coughing a lot.

How long had I been in here with the fire?

I glanced around to see the fire had spread into the kitchen and was working its way along the hallway to the rest of the house, the sound of glass breaking and wood crackling getting more quiet.

There was peace in the flames, and it made me wonder if hell was as bad as everyone made it out to be, or if maybe it would soothe me. I didn’t want the bouncy clouds and the old dude with a beard meeting me at pearly gates, I wanted the tattooed guy with slicked back hair waiting with a bottle of whiskey, telling me to join the party.

“Up you get,” someone sighed, sounding annoyed with me. Why was I on the floor? Where was Rory?

I’d probably imagined that.

I was tossed over a shoulder as I choked, trying to blink harder to focus properly. The fire was beautiful, burning down the empty mansion that had given me nothing but loneliness.

I didn’t realize how hot the fire had been until I was carried outside, the air seeming freezing in comparison.

“Hey, you still with me? Don’t die, man. She’ll fucking kill me.”

“Put me down,” I wheezed, making him scoff. It wasn’t Caden, so who the hell had come after me?

“Do you want to burn to death or get arrested?”

“I want to watch it fucking burn.” I choked some more, the person opening a door and sitting me down on something.

Then Rory was in front of me, cupping my face with panic in her pretty eyes.

“What the hell were you doing? Jesus Christ.”

“Fuck them, and fuck this stupid house,” I spat, my lungs burning from all the smoke.

“You need a hospital. You inhaled a lot of smoke,” a gruff voice said, making me look up to find Hunter watching me with his arms crossed.

“I want⁠—”

“I heard you the first time, you fucking pyromaniac. You can’t just sit here and watch it burn though, the cops and firetrucks are on the way, and you can’t breathe properly. We need to go.”

I glanced around to find I was sitting in the back of a van, a pissed off looking Marco glaring at me from the driver’s seat.

“Hey, you’re an idiot,” he exclaimed, starting the engine and turning to face the front again. “Get him in.”