Page 129 of Pucked Around and Found Out

I stand on shaky legs, my entire body trembling and screaming in pain.

Two bodies lay in my kitchen now.

Masen… dead.

Fiona unconscious.

Both of them tried to kill my baby.

I know I should feel something—anything—for what I just did but I don’t.

Looking around at this house, this place was built on corruption, lies and the blood of others.

This fucking mansion wasn’t built from an honest dollar. Steven Kellar built his empire on the backs of innocent people. Their blood paid for the life we led and I didn’t even know it. I was raised to believe that the town across the tracks was where evil was bred and lived. Somerset was made out to be one of the greatest places in the country, everyone here walking around with an air of purity and looking down their noses at anyone who doesn’t match their wealth. I expected the worst of the people from Stormsend, until I went to SU. Each of them had a right to hate me after everything they thought I did, but some showed kindness when they didn’t need to.

I was too fucking naive to see that my father was the worst monster and my own brother was a pathological liar. They both tried to use me for their own gain, sheltered me and molded me into the image they wanted, only to throw me away when their plans changed. I became expendable.

I have no one left.

Nothing left to give.

Everything about me and my life is a lie.

I’m all out of fairy dust.

I place a hand on my small bump and make a silent vow to my unborn child.

You will never not matter.

I’m sorry I wasn’t what you needed me to be.

I know what I need to do.

I know how to end this once and for all.

Once I do this, I’ll dismantle the cartel. There will never be a war. Xaden will have no one to fight, Fiona will rot in this crypt of a mansion like she fucking deserves.

I walk to the study and find Dad's expensive lighter.

Then I move through the house systematically.

Opening gas lines.

Turning on stoves without lighting them.

Gathering papers near heat sources.

I'm calm about it.

Methodical.

When I'm done, I drag Fiona's unconscious body into the living room, away from the immediate blast zone but still trapped. She weighs more than she looks, I look down and sneer at the bitch.

Let her burn if the fire takes her.

Let her wake up surrounded by flames.

She deserves a preview of hell before she finally gets there.