HE BURNS

CHAPTER 4

He Burns

CYRUS

I left her room.

I planned to teach her a lesson, but I would do it on my own time.

I didn’t slam the door. I didn’t even look back. That was for men who needed an audience. Devils left quietly. The damage screamed.

The latch clicked softly behind me, final.

I still couldn’t believe what had just happened.

My hands were already fists before I reached the hallway. My jaw was clenched so tightly that my teeth hurt. Somehow, that room still clung to me. I could still hear her soft voice.

“Oh, please. Teach me a lesson, Cyrus.”

Christ.

She had said it like she meant it. Like she wanted me to call her bluff. Like she knew exactly what she was doing to me.

And the worst part?

I hated that she was right.

The hallway was long and dark. Portraits of dead Kings lined the walls, all of them staring down at me as if they were watching and judging. My great-grandfather with his war medals. My grandfather with his cold eyes. My father, younger, but already carved from the same stone.

I took the stairs two at a time. I needed distance. I needed air that didn’t have her name written all over it.

My study was on the third floor. It was isolated and locked. No one came up here without permission. That was the rule.

Even Justin had learned it at fourteen when he tried to steal something from my desk. He still walked with a limp that year.

I shoved the door open.

The familiar smell hit me first—leather, whiskey, and old books.

There was nothing soft in here. Nothing that reminded me of white robes, wet hair, or the way her feet had rested on my lap.

I went straight for the wine. I didn’t bother with a glass. The first swallow burned all the way down.

I took another. And another.

But it still wasn’t enough to get her out of my mind.

What the hell was that back there?

A year ago, she would have flinched if someone dropped a fork. Tonight, she had used her leg to brush against my two-thousand-dollar suit and called me brother with a smile that could start wars.

And the worst part?

I liked it.

Not the wine. Not the mess. Just her.

The new version of her.

The one with fire behind her ribs and a dare in her voice. The one who looked at me like I wasn’t a King, a monster, or her husband’s brother. Like I was just a man she could burn.

I hated that I liked it.

I pulled out my phone. My thumb moved before my brain could catch up.

My study. Now.

No explanation. No please. I didn’t beg. I summoned.

Sent.

I locked my phone and placed it face down on the black glass desk like it might explode. Like it already had.

Then I waited. I paced. I drank. I watched the clock, even though I told myself I didn’t care what time it was.

She would come.

Or she wouldn’t.

Either way, I was already ruined.

---

LISA

The door clicked shut, and my knees almost gave out.

Finally.

I kept my back pressed against the wood. It was cold. I wasn’t. My skin felt like it was on fire, and my heart was beating so hard it felt like it might break through my chest.

“Naughty wives need to be taught a lesson.”

God.

I touched my lips. They were trembling.

Not from fear.

I had buried fear six months ago in the garden behind the guest house, right beside the version of me who used to apologize for simply existing.

But Cyrus King…

He did something else to me. Something I didn’t have a name for yet. Something that made me want to run and stay at the same time.

He looked at me like he actually saw me.

Not the second wife. Not Justin’s mistake. Me.

And somehow, that was terrifying.

I pushed myself away from the door. My legs felt strangely unsteady. The robe suddenly felt too thin, too revealing, too honest.

I could still feel the weight of his stare. I could still remember how close he had been. And I could still hear his low, serious voice.

“You don’t fucking know what you’re getting yourself into, Lisa.”

Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I did. Maybe I was done caring.

I needed to think. I needed water. I needed to stop shaking.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. The sound cut through the silence like a knife.

I stared at it.

Justin never texted. He ordered.

Vanessa never texted. She performed.

Beth never texted. She screeched down hallways until someone listened.

So who could it be?

I picked up the phone.

Unknown number. No contact name. Just a string of digits I didn’t recognize.

My thumb hovered over the screen.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have opened it. I would have assumed it was a wrong number and put the phone back down.

But I wasn’t her anymore.

I tapped the screen.

Unknown: I saw what you did at dinner, Lisa. Cute trick with the leg. But you’re playing with fire. He burns people like you for fun. Run while you still can.

The room seemed to tilt.

My breath caught, and my hands went cold.

Someone had seen.

Someone was watching.

Someone knew.

I read the message again. The words hadn’t changed.

My pulse had.

It slammed against my ribs as panic began to creep in.

He burns people like you for fun.

Who was he?

Cyrus?

Justin?

Beth?

My mind raced. The dinner table. The wine. The way I had looked at Cyrus. The way he had looked back.

Had it been that obvious? Did everyone see?

Before I could move, my phone buzzed again.

This time, the name on the screen made my stomach drop.

Cyrus: My study. Now.

Two messages.

Less than a minute apart.

One telling me to run from him.

The other ordering me to him.

My stomach dropped. Then flipped. Then settled into something I couldn’t quite explain.

I looked at the door.

The same door he had just walked through. The door I wasn’t supposed to follow him through.

Run while you still can.

The old Lisa would have.

She would have locked the door, cried into a pillow, and apologized to empty air for being noticed.

But I had spent a year learning how to stop being her. A year learning how to be sharp instead of soft. How to be a weapon instead of a wound.

I placed the phone down. My hands were still shaking, but this time, it wasn’t fear.

It was choice.

I tightened the belt of my robe, then lifted my chin until my neck ached.

I looked at myself in the mirror above the dresser.

My eyes were wild. My cheeks were flushed. I barely recognized the woman staring back at me.

Good.

Maybe that was exactly what I needed.

I walked toward the door.

Opened it.

If he was fire, maybe I was finally done being afraid of the flames.