"burn Those Who Burned Me!" Novels & Stories

He says, spitting specks of red as he stutters. "That's right... and I bet you have a real good guess as to why." He stays silent. "Every single fucking one of those girls you sold are going to walk free. The girls you abducted and abused. All eight hundred. Your empire falls today Malcom..." She looks at the fireplace and back at him before shoving his head close to the flame. His hair ignites and starts to burn. His ear-piercing scream shakes the room. I can't believe she is doing this. I can't say I'm not proud, but this isn't anything I could have imagined. However, her arms are shaking. I can hear her trembling breath.

Now, I have turned those cinders into a blade. Bennett did not lose hope, desperate to hit back after losing everything. "You think you're the winner?" The email attachment showed my face crudely edited onto explicit images, with the backdrop of our family's hotel, sent to every young member of the prominent families.

My body rocks back and forth as if I've got a limb, when the only thing that has snapped is my sanity. Walking bereft of shoes, laughing to lyself, rocking to my own tune, stopping and glancing over my shoulders before continuing on, singing to myself. Burn Burn Oh such lovely flames Orange and red, screams and wails. Maybe I'm a little out of touch with reality, maybe I'm crazy. But who says their not crazy?

orchestrated by my contacts deep within the port authority. A warehouse containing goods she had personally secured through a complex, multi-layered deal—a deal I knew bore the hallmark of her meticulous mind—was mysteriously engulfed in flames. The fire was contained, but the damage was done, a plume of black smoke rising over the city like a signal fire of my rage. The message was clear, crude, and unmistakable: I see you. And I can still touch you. I can still burn what you build.

DUAA "Then let the world burn, baby. Because on your birthday, you won't just wear the crown. You'll own the fire." His words echoed against the shell of my ear like a curse—dark, destructive, and terrifyingly inevitable. I froze in place, my breath caught somewhere between my lungs and lips. His arms wrapped around me from behind, a slow drag of possessive fingers crawling up my waist as if he was claiming every inch of me with just a touch.

Not to my enemies. Not even to myself. I threw back the last shot and reached for the bottle again. If I was going to burn, I’d burn with her name on my lips. If I was going to burn, I’d burn with her name on my lips. And if war was coming for her… then the devil would have to go through me first. I poured another shot. My hand trembled. Just slightly. Enough for me to notice. I stared at it — the tremor — like it had betrayed me.

About everything he'd taken and everything he'd failed to destroy. *I burned in their spotlight* *Drowned in their fame* *Lost myself completely* *Forgot my own name* *But fire finds oxygen* *Even in the dark* *And I'm still burning, baby* *I'm still that spark* The bridge was softer. About Kai and Elena. About choosing love over destruction. *He gave me kindling when I was just smoke* *She gave me purpose when I was just broke* *Together we're building* *A fire that's true*

I knew we couldn't erase the abuse they'd endured, but I'd be damned if we let it continue. King Cian raised both arms, an arc of fire dancing between his palms. "We will burn the rot from this place." He flung his hands forward, the fire rolling from them in a wave, crashing over the convicted with no mercy. Beta George was the first to be hit; the force of the flames knocked him prone even as his clothes ignited. High-pitched screams pierced the air, finally fading as the fire died and left nothing but ash behind.

It was now or never and the only way to find out. "I love you too," I closed my eyes and waited for the burn searing in my tattoo. There, a slight burn, quite faint but it ended all too quickly, seared on my left chest. Was that a bad sign or a good sign? I casted my eyes downward to my left chest, to where my tattoo was. I checked surreptitiously to see if it glowed and thankfully, my button up shirt was three buttons undone so my chest was still visible. I frowned when it flickered weakly, like a busted light bulb. Was that supposed to happen? Was that supposed to glow like that? Did the curse break that confession?

"Even in death, you're still trying to steal my man? Clearly, skinning you and blowing you up wasn't cruel enough." "Go to hell with your little bastard!" I shut my eyes and calmed myself. Quietly, I preserved every text and waited—for the storm that was sure to come.