WHAT THE FIRE LEFT BEHIND

HIS TOUCH, HER FIRE🔥

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Chapter Six — “What the Fire Left Behind”

The door clicked shut, and Evelyn stood frozen on the other side, her hand still gripping the handle like it might turn back time. Her breath left in shallow bursts, eyes stinging as the weight of what she'd just done pressed down on her chest. She hadn’t just shut him out. She had carved a line in fire between them—and for once, it didn’t make her feel powerful.

Outside, she heard nothing.

Not the engine.

Not his footsteps.

Not even the wind.

But she knew he was still there. She could feel it, a presence lingering like the scent of burnt sugar and gasoline. Dangerous. Bitter. Sweet.

She pressed her back against the door, slid down to the floor, and stared at the ceiling like it held answers. But all it held was silence. And she hated silence. It made space for thoughts. And tonight, hers were spiraling.

When the quiet grew too thick, she rose to her feet, marched to the back porch, and stared into the darkness.

Sure enough, Damien’s car still sat at the edge of the property.

Not moving.

Not leaving.

Just waiting.

She didn’t know whether to scream or run to him.

Instead, she went inside, grabbed a hammer, and fixed the sagging gate at the back fence until her arms burned and her knuckles bled.

---

Morning light crept over the hills, golden and unwanted. Evelyn barely noticed. She’d been up since before dawn, cleaning the stables like a woman possessed. Her hands were raw. Her throat tight. Her phone buzzed, again and again, but she ignored it.

She didn’t want anyone’s voice but her own right now.

Especially not his.

Marla arrived just after eight, holding a paper bag of scones and a side-eye that could kill.

“You look like hell,” she said.

“Feel worse.”

“You and Damien explode or implode?”

“Both.”

Marla sighed and sat on the feed bin. “You know the town’s still foaming at the mouth, right? F******k’s on fire. Half the women think you’re a gold-digger, and the other half want to be you.”

Evelyn shrugged. “They can have him.”

Marla leaned in. “But do you want him?”

Silence.

“I want... to not want him.”

And that was the truth.

---

By noon, a long black SUV rolled up the gravel path, slow and deliberate. The same one that had come before.

Evelyn dropped her rake, heart skipping.

But it wasn’t Damien’s father this time.

It was Dante.

He stepped out in jeans and a charcoal hoodie, hair slightly windblown, a bag of takeout in one hand.

“I come in peace,” he said before she could speak.

She raised a brow. “And I care... why?”

“You need to eat. And you need to know something.”

She hesitated, then waved him toward the porch. They ate in silence, the kind that said too much without speaking. Finally, Dante leaned forward.

“Damien hasn’t left the road.”

She didn’t look up. “Stupid of him.”

“Maybe. Or maybe he's just trying to prove he won’t run.”

She exhaled through her nose. “Why are you here?”

“Because whether you like it or not, this isn’t just between you and Damien anymore. The whole damn city is watching now. And if you’re not careful, they’ll tear you apart for sport.”

“I didn’t ask for any of this.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But now that it’s here, you have to decide what you’re going to do.”

She shook her head. “I already did. I shut the door.”

Dante smiled faintly. “Yeah, well... Damien’s not the type to wait forever.”

He left without pressing further. And Evelyn sat there long after, wondering why it hurt so much to keep doing what she swore she had to.

---

Night fell like a threat.

The air was warm, heavy with that sticky pressure that comes before a storm. Evelyn sat out back again, just like the night before, watching the fire pit flicker but not lighting it.

She wanted stillness.

Peace.

Control.

Instead, she got headlights.

This time she didn’t move.

Damien got out of the car. No suit. No smirk. Just jeans and a black t-shirt that made him look like a bruise barely held together by skin. His hair was tousled. His face shadowed.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said.

“Yeah, I’m starting to get that.”

She turned slightly. “Then why are you still coming?”

He took a slow step closer. “Because something about this place... about you... keeps pulling me back.”

She scoffed. “That sounds romantic.”

“It’s not,” he said. “It’s maddening.”

“Then walk away.”

“I’ve tried.”

He stopped a few feet from her. Close enough to see the circles under his eyes. The tightness in his jaw.

“I didn’t know my father was going to show up,” he said. “And if I had, I would’ve stopped him.”

She didn’t reply.

“He thinks I’m weak for not taking what I want.”

Evelyn looked at him then, sharp and tired. “That’s because he’s used to power. And men like him don’t know what to do with women who don’t flinch.”

He stared at her like he wanted to say something else. Something heavier. But he didn’t.

Instead, he said, “I didn’t come for a fight. I just came to say that I’m not leaving the company. Or the land project. But I’m not going to bulldoze you, either.”

She blinked. “So what—now we’re business rivals again?”

“If that’s safer for you.”

She stood slowly. “There’s nothing safe about you, Damien.”

“Then why do you keep letting me get close?”

Her fists clenched. “Because you’re something I shouldn’t want.”

The air between them pulsed.

Neither of them moved.

Then her phone buzzed.

Unknown number.

One photo.

Surveillance footage.

Her. Him. Locked at the fence in a kiss.

A second message followed:

“Told you. Now you’ll pay for playing with fire.”

Evelyn’s blood chilled.

She handed the phone to Damien.

He stared at it, jaw flexing. “What the hell is this?”

“I don’t know,” she said, backing up.

Then the gunshot came.

Loud.

Close.

Followed by another.

They both dropped to the ground, instinct moving faster than thought. Glass shattered behind them. The window near the kitchen exploded inward.

“Get down!” Damien shouted, covering her body with his, shielding her head.

She could barely hear him. The ringing in her ears was louder than her thoughts. The wind smelled like smoke and gunpowder.

Then—tires screeched in the distance.

Whoever it was, they were gone.

For now.

Damien rolled off her, checking her face, her arms. “Are you hit?”

She shook her head.

He looked around the porch, then pulled her upright. “We need to move. Whoever did this wasn’t aiming to scare you.”

Her voice finally came back. “They know where I live.”

“They’ve been watching.”

Evelyn’s heart slammed against her ribs. “This is because of you.”

“No,” he said, voice low and deadly. “This is because someone doesn’t like what you’ve become to me.”

“And what is that?” she demanded.

His silence burned.

Then he said it—raw, not romantic.

“A threat.”

Evelyn stared at him, heart pounding for a different reason now.

And for the first time since this all began, she realized:

This wasn’t just about them anymore.

This was war.

And she was the battlefield.

—