Branded

by Wild, Clarissa

And I can’t have it knowing Brandon is still out there scheming his way through life. There’s just something about him that I can’t let go. He spun a fucking web around my heart and kept it in his clutches all this time. Even when he went away, he never really left.

  Him coming back to this town proves it.

  He’s still here, in the shadows, constantly hovering over me.

  All I need to do is reach out, and I’d probably be able to talk to him again.

  But do I want to? Am I ready for the consequences of seeing him again?

  A part of me wants to run away, hide in my farmhouse, and pretend life is all fine and dandy. But it’s not. On some days, I still feel empty, and I can’t help but think that’s partly due to missing Brandon.

  As strange as that sounds.

  I need to know if there’s more. More to him … more to us.

  I need to know what it is that I feel.

  As I step into my car, I’ve decided.

  Whatever it takes, I’m going to find him.

  * * *

  Brandon

  I’ve finally gotten rid of the final name on my list. The final piece of the puzzle that is my life. I can finally breathe and feel the calmness flowing through my veins. Instead of grinding my teeth with rage, I can relax my muscles and walk away with a smile.

  It’s a bittersweet one but a smile, nonetheless.

  My life has been one jumbled mess. An inescapable train of pain that has reached its final stop.

  My papa’s shop.

  God, how long has it been since I was last here? Years, probably. I couldn’t stomach coming here with everything that went down … but it was time.

  It honestly hasn’t changed a single bit.

  Dust settled on all the shelves, the items probably far beyond the expiration date or current popular themes. Nothing on these shelves can be sold anymore, yet they’re of irreplaceable value to me.

  When my papa died, he left the entire place to me through his will. He had it put up before his death and never told me. I didn’t find out until after he passed when they handed the ownership to me.

  But what’s a guy to do with a shop that he never built from the ground up? A shop he doesn’t know how to run? A shop that has too many memories and emotions stuck between its walls like the mortar that keeps the bricks together?

  Nothing. You do absolutely nothing.

  I’ve sat on this shop for years, letting it slowly decay as time passed. It’s taking longer than I anticipated.

  It was stupid to think this place would crumble without a little help.

  But first, I have a final task to complete.

  I go upstairs to our old living room. All the furniture is still in the same place, covered in the dust of time. In the light of the sun breaking through the window, I blow some off the seat in front of the fireplace and watch the specks flutter through the air.

  Taking a deep breath, I pick up a few chunks of wood and throw them into the fireplace, lighting them with my Zippo. Then I grab the iron and place it between the fire.

  I sit down on the chair and wait.

  It seems to take forever, but I’ve got the time.

  There’s nothing else for me to do, no place else to go. This is it. The final stop. The epic ending to my miserable tale.

  When the iron turns red, I take off my clothes layer by layer until I’m only wearing pants. I pick up the iron and take a deep breath. I go to my knees in front of the fire and close my eyes. Then I put the iron against my back.

  I yowl in pain. The iron drops to the floor. I brace myself against the floor, digging my nails into the wood. A burning pain shoots through my veins. My skin is on fire. Literally.

  Fuck. It hurts.

  But it’s a necessary pain. A pain I had to endure as punishment. A branding that leaves a permanent seal on my body as proof of my crimes.

  It’s almost over now. Almost all the names on my list have been erased from existence.

  There’s only one left now … mine.

  The final name I put on my back. A final sin to abolish and crucify.

  Me.

  I’m the single cause of all the pain and suffering in my own life and that of the ones I love. Now that I’ve finished everything I needed to do, I’m finally ready to call it quits.

  So I pick up a burning log from the pile and bring it with me downstairs, where I place it on the shelves. I snatch a canister of oil from the shelves and light it on fire somewhere in the corner of the shop. That way, I’m sure it’ll all go down fast.

  Fetching a chair from the back, I sit down in the middle of the aisle, watching it all go down.

  Fire has always fascinated me. It’s what’s pushed me along all my life, the urge to burn everything in my path. Destruction. Death. Me.

  They come hand in hand.

  I’ve never known anything but pain, and so pain will be my end.

  I blink a couple of times while coming to terms with my own decided fate.

  I stare up at the blood-painted ceiling of the Stop & Shop. The place I used to call my home. Its wooden floors are stained with soot as the wallpaper and everything in between burned to a crisp.

  What went down here, in this town, never should have happened.

  Immense pain and unrelenting suffering.

  Death might have been quick, but the mark it left on this place … on me … is permanent.

  And it’s all because of me.

  My actions. Every misstep. Every obsession and every desire.

  It all led to this moment.

  None of it should have ever happened. Not me, not my fiery rage. None of it … But especially not her.

  Dixie Burrell. The one girl I always wanted but could never have. Not truly. Not fully. Never completely mine even though I tried so fucking hard.

  Damn … I even killed for her.

  And it fucking ruined us both.

  I should’ve never set my eyes on her. Should’ve never let her get close and witness the real me. The dark monster hiding within.

  She should’ve never stepped foot in this shop all those years ago. Should’ve never opened her pretty mouth in front of me and spoken a single word with that sweet, sinful voice of hers.

  Because with her sassy stubbornness, that gorgeous body, and fascinating mind, she left her mark on my heart and tainted my very essence … Blackened my soul until nothing but fire and ash were left.

  And now she’ll be my undoing.

  I sit down on a chair and witness the decimation around me, the beautiful chaos of the smoke filling the air, and the flames licking the windows. I don’t intend to move even an inch.

  I’ve set my memories on fire.

  And with them, I’ll burn too.

  * * *

  Dixie

  In the middle of the night, I’m listening to the radio while working on my latest gadget. The reporters are talking about the local news. Their voices usually calm me but not tonight.

  “Breaking news, everyone! A local resident has reported a building in the middle of town is on fire. We don’t know the validity of this report, but we’ll make sure to alert the fire department. It appears to be a local Stop & Shop.”

  My eyes widen.

  Brandon.

  My stool tumbles to the floor as I jump up and run out the door, hastily grabbing my coat on the way. I rush to my truck and chase it off the property. With screeching tires, I manage to enter the town, going faster than the speed limit. But right now, none of that matters.

  It’s him. It has to be him.

  There’s no one left alive who would care enough about that Stop & Shop to set it on fire.

  Except one man … Brandon Locklear.

  So I park my car across the street and jump out, barely remembering to lock it before running to the other end of the street. My lungs can’t carry me fast enough across the pavement, and my legs almost give out as I try to skip the steps leading up to the shop. When I burst into the door, I’m greeted by smoke and fire.
The flames lick the door and windows, the smoke darkening the room. Coughing, I make my way inside.

  I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m out of my mind to go straight into a building on fire. It could collapse at any moment, crushing me underneath it. But it’s not just me I’m worried about here.

  He’s inside.

  I’m sure of it.

  So I wade through the soot and avoid the flames as best as I can. With a piece of my shirt, I protect my mouth and nose while trying to breathe. It’s almost impossible to see anything, but one thing lights up the area.

  A tiny flame in the middle of the ravaged shop.

  Like a moth being drawn to the light, I move toward it.

  And in this scorching heat, I find the only person on this planet who has managed to defrost my ice-cold heart.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Brandon

  This is my final ode to my papa. A beautiful annihilation of the wounds that should’ve never existed. Wounds I caused. Wounds I carry until this very day. And I will take them to my grave.

  My time on this earth is over. I’ve had enough.

  No one needs to hurt anymore. Not because of me.

  I close my eyes and let it all happen. I know it’ll be an agonizing death, but I deserve every single inch of the excruciating pain to come. It’s a small price to pay for all the suffering I’ve caused. The stinging on my back isn’t so bad when I compare it to the heat of the fire that’s about to engulf me.

  Suddenly, something wraps around my neck, ensnaring me from behind.

  I open my eyes as someone whispers into my ear, “Don’t do this. Please. You gotta live. For me.”

  My heart almost beats out of my chest. Dixie. Is she really here? Or are the flames messing with my head.

  The grip grows tighter as it turns and shifts to the front, and I feel a pressure on my legs. Something … or someone … sits down on my lap.

  Only when the smoke disappears for just a moment do I realize it’s really her.

  “Dixie,” I mumble.

  She’s really here in the flesh.

  “Yes, it’s me,” she says, cupping my face. Her eyes tear up. “I’m here.”

  “Dixie, I thought I’d never see you again,” I mutter, coughing from the smoke surrounding us.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asks, her voice straining.

  “I …” I can’t even answer that question without feeling incredibly humbled. “The world is better off without me and without this shop.”

  She leans back, staring at me while tears run down her face.

  SLAP.

  I touch my face where it stings. Ouch. That hurt. But not as much as the look on her face.

  “Brandon Locklear, stop this fucking bullshit right now,” she says, shaking me by the shoulders.

  Damn, she truly is a potty mouth for sure.

  “You’re better than this,” she says. “Don’t fucking do this.”

  It hurts me to say this. “I have to.”

  “Why?” she asks.

  “There’s too much pain here,” I reply, lowering my head.

  With a single finger, she tips my chin up. “There are better ways to deal with pain.”

  “Not mine.” I take her hand and push it down. “Others.”

  “You wanna die because you made other people suffer? Bullshit,” she snaps, then coughs from the smoke. She gets up from my lap and attempts to grab my hands, but I won’t budge.

  “Leave me, Dixie,” I say. “Go. I don’t want you to die too.”

  “No!” she yells, still tugging as hard as she can.

  I don’t understand why she doesn’t just give up.

  What’s there to save? I’ve done nothing but horrible things. I don’t deserve the life my papa gave me. All I’ve caused is ruin. It should end with me.

  “No, you do not give up. Do you hear me? Do not fucking give up!” she yells, despite the fact her voice is crippled by the smoke entering her lungs. “Not after everything we’ve been through!”

  But that’s just it. It’s all because of what I did.

  I ruined her life. Why won’t she just give up on me?

  She won’t stop until it’s too late, until even she can’t escape the fire anymore. I won’t let it happen. I love her too much.

  “Dixie! Get out of here before it’s too late,” I say, looking her directly in the eyes. “Please.” I’m begging her right now. Pleading with her heart and soul to run away from the fire I started so she won’t burn down with it.

  “I need you,” she says.

  The sudden admission makes my heart stop and my breath falter.

  What did she just say?

  “Please … don’t abandon me,” she says, grabbing my hands while sinking to her knees in front of me. “If you go, I have no one left.”

  “I caused all your misery. All your suffering and loneliness.”

  “I don’t care,” she says, shaking her head.

  How can she so easily forget about it and pretend it doesn’t exist?

  “You should,” I reply, still trying to cling to that single emotion that has kept me going all my life. Guilt.

  Her lips part, and with three words, my entire existence up until now caves in. “I forgive you.”

  Her words undo me. Strip me of everything I thought I knew about myself.

  In disbelief, I stare at her. The moment seems to last to infinity.

  But I heard her words. I sucked them in along with the smoke and flames until they pushed out the shame and replaced it with something else.

  Responsibility.

  Because after all we’ve been through, all the time we spent together in solitary hardship, we’ve connected in a way that transcends relationships.

  We’re no longer just killer and victim, enemies and lovers.

  We’re one and the same.

  Wounded people in search of a bigger meaning.

  And in her, I’ve finally found mine.

  As the flames engulf the shelves surrounding us, I stand tall and proud, and I pick up her body from the floor. She gasps and then chokes on her own breath, the smoke getting too thick.

  In a feat of strength, I shove the chair aside and barge through the aisles, straight through the fire, and walk out the door.

  The dark of night blinds me as I step away from the fire, watching the flames lick the outer rims of the shop. But I made it. I’m alive.

  And so is she.

  The only woman who could chain my heart to hers forever.

  I bring her to an alley across the street, safe from the smoke and the fire, and then put her down against the wall.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, checking her for serious injuries.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she replies, a smile forming on her lips. “You’re still alive.”

  Her worry humbles me and makes me smile too. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

  “But I do, though. While you were gone, I did every single day.” She swallows away the lump in her throat. “I tried so damn hard not to … but …”

  I place a finger on her lips, and say, “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I understand.”

  And I press a kiss to her lips, claiming her as mine once again.

  She was right. After all the struggling, the pushing, the tugging, us being together was inevitable. Despite our differences and the misery we caused each other, we belong together. There’s no way I can breathe without her … and she’s not going to let me go either.

  If I can’t die with dignity, at least I can use whatever time I have left to make it up to her. And I’ll try my very best until my last dying breath, dammit.

  She’s worth it all.

  Right then, the firemen have arrived to douse the flames and bravely fight the fire. I turn my back toward her and gaze at my papa’s shop going up in flames. I’m as much sad as I am excited. The flames light a fire inside my soul that ignites a frenzy in me. Fire has always had this effect on me, and I’ve usually take
n it out by either lashing out at someone … or by jerking off.

  It’s the first time I’ve shared my passion with someone. And for that someone to be Dixie Burrell makes it even harder for me to turn away from her. But I don’t wanna take advantage of her. Not when she’s this vulnerable.

  However, her hand touching my back alerts all my senses and makes me tense up.

  She’s touching the burn scars that I just created. The scorched off names of the men who killed her brothers. She must think I’m a monster for doing this, but I had to. The pain is my way of dealing with my guilt for being a murderer. But these men deserved nothing less.

  “Did you do this to yourself?” she asks with a soft voice. “Who are these people?”

  “They’re the men who killed your brothers that night.” I clear my throat. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

  I can’t face her when I say this because I am one of those men too.

  I should’ve died with that fire right there.

  “You don’t have to die for me,” she says, her fingers softly grazing over the tattoo that carries my name. “I want you to live.”

  I nod, trying to keep that in mind while I watch the blazing fire, wondering what it would’ve felt like. If I really deserve to stay alive.

  I will do everything in my power to make myself worthy of this second chance she’s given me. She deserves that much.

  * * *

  Dixie

  “You … erased my name,” I murmur, touching his back right where my name used to be.

  “You didn’t deserve to be on there,” he replies.

  My hand slides up his shoulder and wraps around his neck as I hug him and squeeze tight.

  “Thank you. That means a lot to me.”

  “Don’t say that, please,” he says, turning around to face me.

  I don’t understand why he keeps rejecting the idea that I can like him. I’ve already come to terms with it, so he should too.

  “I can’t thank you for taking my name off your hit list?” My brows draw together.

  “I’ve given you nothing but pain. I’ve done nothing good for you. Nothing.”

  Even now, he still thinks of himself as the worst of the worst. As if he’s some kind of animal who’s not allowed to even get close to me. But he put his life on the line to protect me back when his uncle tried to kill me. He even went after the guys who murdered my brothers. If that isn’t a show of goodwill, I don’t know what is.