Nothing More Let Em Burn Novels & Stories

Let them watch as everything they love burns. I would finish what I started. And this time—there would be no survivors.

They forgot—I am the flame. And flames don't die. They just find new ways to burn.

No more praying. No more illusions. I would escape. And when I did— They would all burn.

I am steady enough to burn and still build. Let them throw labels. I’ll throw flame.

Bang! Riddled with bullets, Lucy collapsed into a filthy puddle. Her eyes were wide open, staring blankly at the black sky as the light slowly faded from them. It was a miserable end, identical to my own death in the rain in my past life. But Henry, having killed the traitor, didn’t get his comeback. His reputation for treachery, for slandering a loyal subordinate, and for being so blind he drove his family into the ground, had spread through the entire North American Mafia.

As the music hit its peak, she jumped along, her enthusiasm infectious. The energy of the moment was undeniable, and I could not help but get caught up in the excitement. The sudden intensity hit me so hard that I felt my body react before I could think. I felt like I got my money's worth, being part of that unforgettable experience. She was the kind of beauty money could not buy. The scene turned raw and desperate, the air charged with something dangerous. The thrill of something forbidden, with so many people so close, sent a rush of heat through me.

This outcome was inevitable. As it finished speaking, the temperature spiked. The hail and snow covering the ground melted away, silently marking the end of the old world. The air turned so hot that it was hard to breathe, like the whole world had been sealed inside a furnace, cooking the people trapped inside. Trees erupted into flames, floodwaters surged across the ground beneath them, and steam filled the air. For a moment, the crowd went still, then the panic broke again. The ground groaned and split. "The world's ending! Queen Charlotte, please come back and save us!"

His complexion cycled rapidly from a ghostly white to a deep, burning crimson, and finally to a sickly, suffocating blue. He realized, with absolute certainty, that there was no mercy to be found here. The bridge wasn't just burned; it had been totally vaporized. He couldn't say another word. Crying hysterically, he scrambled backward toward the grand doors, tripped over his own wet shoes, and practically tumbled down the front steps into the roaring storm outside. A few days later, the financial and tech news channels broke the story globally.

I typed one word to the investigator. "Confirmed." Then I set my plan. I would let them have their perfect day. The flowers, the vows, the cheering crowd. I would let her wear the white gown and walk down the aisle believing she had won. And when they stood at the altar, when they were about to exchange marks and seal their bond before the entire territory— I would burn it all down. Not with fire this time. With truth. I lay back on the thin mattress, clutching my still-flat abdomen, and closed my eyes.

I rushed forward, trying desperately to stomp out the fire. But I was already dead. There was nothing I could do. I watched in despair as my three daughters were dragged into death by Ken's madness. Ken sat quietly on the floor, staring at the photo of us on his phone. The fire crept up their bodies. Pain twisted Bianca's face, and the girls' expressions were filled with agony. Ken kept smiling the whole time. The flames grew higher and higher. The three girls lost consciousness first. Soon, only Bianca and Ken were left awake.