La Casa Que Arde De Noche Novels & Stories

**Chapter 98: Flames of Revenge** The guest house burned like a funeral pyre against the Miami night. I stood at the reinforced window of the safe wing, Julian tucked against my chest in a carrier while Hope slept fitfully in Lucian’s arms. Orange flames devoured the west wing where Chuck had been staying, roaring high into the sky. Black smoke billowed upward, carrying with it the acrid smell of scorched wood, fabric, and secrets.

"I'll dig another chamber nearby, bigger than this one. We'll plant crops underground. With the sunlight we channel in and the water supply, the heat during the apocalypse will actually help things grow. We just need a month of food stored up until the crops start coming in." We divided up the work and got everything ready just in time. Tomorrow, the heatwave apocalypse would arrive. That night, I curled up on the big bed in the cellar, holding Blazewing close while waiting for the apocalypse to begin. When I woke up the next morning, I could already feel the difference. The cellar was warmer than yesterday, rising from damp and cold to a cozy, comfortable temperature. Blazewing stretched on

He’d thought it was just business. He hadn’t realized it involved Maria. But Luca didn’t care. His family had died in front of him. And Maria was still gone. Luca left the man tied to the chair, facing his dead wife. He poured gasoline through every hallway. Soaked velvet drapes and mahogany furniture. The match flared bright. And the mansion burned. He stood in the garden, watching the flames kiss the night sky. The screams inside were guttural. Human. Luca didn’t blink.

" We notch our bows and wait for the morrow Cold is the night and nary a tear for on the morn we head into shadow There is no room for our fear His eyes are cruel, his evil is endless Black is soul and ne'ver he'll rest till all the world lies covered in darkness and none who'd fight him are left. Zhanere Zelezial"

My brows are first scrunched with confusion, then I blanch as realization sets in, the smoke, the urgency in Adrrik's step and the suffocation hanging in the air. This can only mean one thing. The house. It's on fire! ~P-Lia~

Scarlett nodded, feeling uncertainty grow inside her. The next morning, as everyone woke up and the sun barely lit the camp, Alex had already made a decision: he had to protect Scarlett no matter what. What happened the night before hadn’t been an accident. The gorgon who had almost drowned Scarlett was a princess of the lake, and although Alex still didn’t understand why she had attacked her, he knew there had to be a reason—and he had to find out. And that meant that, at last, he would have to tell Scarlett the truth about the supernatural world… and about who had attacked her the night before. Scarlett stepped out of her tent with Leslie, feeling the morning chill on her skin. At that ver

"Sorry you got in trouble. He is just so infuriating. He promised he would stay away as long as I was on my best behavior and he already broke that promise." "Well technically he isn't here and besides what did you expect? This place is supposed to be a safe house so of course it has cameras. However I didn't expect the intercom. Besides I can take care of myself. We didn't do anything wrong we were just horsing around." He did make some good points but I was still mad at Damion. I decided it was no use to keep being upset though. I went back into the kitchen and finished making us dinner and then sat in the living room and turned on some horror movie. Heth finished eating and then took off

Then demonic. “We love you, Daddy…” He roared. “FUCK YOU!” He swung. CLANG. The glass spider-webbed. Shards fell like hard rain. Lightning forked. White ate the room. Silence. A heartbeat. Then— The house went up. Flame ran the halls. Gas bloomed fire through walls. Windows burst; timber screamed. The copper frame flew like a crown thrown by a dying king. From the hills, the moon slipped the cloud and watched rain hiss on flame.

This was hell, and it would be played by his rules now. The crackle of fire devoured the silence of night. Flames licked the cold marble walls of the once-pristine estate nestled in the hills of Tuscany. Giovanni’s ancestral mansion—steeped in centuries of secrets, cruelty, and decadence—now danced in orange and crimson ruin, a cathedral of legacy reduced to embers by vengeance. Smoke spiraled into the night sky, black and ruthless, choking the stars themselves. Lorenzo stood outside the burning wreckage, the fire reflecting in his eyes—flames mirrored in flames. He didn’t flinch as the screams echoed inside.

The flame flares to life, I hold it for a second, just long enough for him to see it. “No…no! You can’t do this!” Reynolds roars, struggling, panic bleeding into every word. I glance back at him, my smirk sharp. “Watch me.” Then I toss it. The flame lands, catches the trail of gasoline, and a hiss breaks the silence. Then a roar. Fire races across the ground like a beast unleashed, devouring everything in its path until the entire house is ablaze. Orange light dances in the night air, casting shadows across Reynolds’ face as he screams.