Chapter 4

I stood in the flickering firelight, my clothes singed, my skin grimy with soot and something wetter, darker.

The farm was an inferno.

Mark's SUV pulled up as the main barn roof collapsed in a shower of sparks.

He stared at the devastation, then at me, standing amidst the chaos like some avenging angel dipped in hellfire.

His face was a mask of disbelief and dawning horror.

"What... what did you do?" he stammered.

Jessica, beside him, shrieked. "She's a monster! She burned it down! They're all in there!"

I just looked at him, my expression unreadable.

Mark's initial shock gave way to revulsion. He grabbed a jacket from the backseat and threw it at me. "Cover yourself. You're disgusting."

I didn't move.

He yanked the car door open. "Get in. Now."

The ride back to his sprawling villa in the Portland hills was silent, thick with unspoken accusations and the smell of smoke clinging to my clothes.

Jessica kept stealing terrified glances at me, then whispering furiously to Mark.

As we pulled into the pristine driveway, Jessica turned to me, her voice a venomous hiss. "Why weren't you in there with them, you freak? You should have burned too."

Mark got out and opened my door. "You're filthy. Go to the back. Use the pressure washer by the pool house. Don't even think about stepping inside until you're clean."

Two of his regular security goons, the same ones who had manhandled Chloe at the wedding, appeared from the side of the house. They smirked, their eyes cold.

One of them uncoiled the thick hose of the industrial-strength pressure washer.

The late autumn air was bitingly cold.

He aimed the nozzle at me. "Let's get you cleaned up, sweetheart."

The other one laughed.

The icy jet of water slammed into me, stealing my breath, plastering my thin clothes to my skin. It felt like being pelted with needles.

They hooted with laughter, enjoying the show, drenching me deliberately, slowly.

I stood there, shivering, my teeth chattering, but my eyes never left theirs.

The water streamed down my face, washing away some of the soot, revealing the blank canvas beneath.

They didn't see the fire still burning inside me.

They just saw a broken, dirty girl.

They were wrong.

When they finally turned off the water, satisfied with their little game, I was numb with cold.

"Get her some old towels from the garage," Mark called out from the patio, not even looking at me, already on his phone, probably calling his lawyer.

The two goons swaggered towards the garage.

I moved silently behind them.

The heavy wrench from the poolside toolkit felt good in my hand.

The first one went down without a sound, a sickening thud as his head hit the concrete.

The second one turned, his eyes widening in surprise.

He never got to scream.

I dragged their unconscious bodies behind a large stack of patio furniture, covering them with a discarded tarp.

Clean.

I walked towards the main house, dripping water, a small, chilling smile playing on my lips.