My body already buzzes in anticipation, my fist tightening around the glass, but I keep myself relaxed, training my gaze on him.
He shrugs. “I didn’t want it. But he insisted. He promised me a good life if I did as he said. I didn’t think anyone would have survived anyway. Instead, he took me to the heaven. Life there was a bore.”
“He abused you?” It wouldn't make me more sympathetic toward him, but still I'd like to know.
He barks a laugh. “Of course not. The fucker sold asses, but he didn’t touch anyone himself. I think he planned for me to be an heir. But I found money and the way to escape. I knew he wouldn’t be able to do shit for years.” Right, Marcello and the wedding. “All this time, I worked on the building. To bring all the women and kids there.”
Fucking bastard, I don’t have to ask a question to know his answer, but I still do to confirm my suspicions. “You wanted to burn them up.”
Excitement flashes in his eyes and he nods. “Oh yes. Their mothers trying to run away from one hell brought them to another. I figured they are all better off dead, or someone else will be pimping their asses. There is nothing for the kids who are like we used to be. Only pain and suffering.” A tear slides down his cheek, but he wipes it away, slamming his fist on the counter. “I wanted to free kids from such fate. Free you. It’s unbearable to live after the abuse,” he says, staring into space while I study him. “I continue only because I was chosen by the higher powers.”
Placing the glass down, I throw out, “To do what?”
“To bring peace for all the lost souls around who crave to end their suffering. I’m almost like Callista, the fallen angel.”
And that’s the answer to all his problems.
His words are the pieces of information that were missing in my brain all this time, shedding light on certain aspects of the thoughts behind his actions.
Caspian from early childhood displayed signs of a psychopath. He didn’t like to play with other kids, preferring to study animals or sometimes even intentionally kick them; he had no remorse about his actions while he beat the crap out of the boys when they laughed at me or him.
He watched all the sex happening in the whorehouse and always dreamed about imitating the madam. He never knew compassion; he didn't even share food with me.
Maybe if it weren’t for the rape that happened to us, all this pain bottled up inside him from our lifestyle would have transformed into something else; after all, he is a brilliant engineer.
But one action started a chain of events that forever shifted his psyche to the dark side, allowing him to lose touch with reality and build up an image of the savior inside him, when in fact he brings nothing but misery.
I wouldn’t have given two shits about him if he didn’t plan to continue his mass killing. At some point, he wouldn’t even hide it, because narcissists like him crave recognition. He'd want more and more, wanting to achieve bigger highs to feed his desires.
And no more people should die because of his insanity.
Glancing at the clock, I see I have five more minutes, and in these five minutes, I mentally salute Lachlan and thank him for finding me on the streets all that time ago.
Because if it weren’t for him?
I’d probably never see anything wrong with Caspian’s plan and continue to kill everyone in my way as long as it soothed the demons inside me.
I’m a serial killer, yes.
But I’m a serial killer who has morals, and unfortunately for everyone involved, I might as well have signed myself a death warrant.
Chapter Twenty-One
“True madness is born in complete darkness.
Darkness is born in the pain.
Pain is born in the cruelty.
Madness, darkness, pain… they have the power to drive a person insane.
But only if he or she lacks one thing.
Love.
Love that withstands the most difficult times… even death.”
Arson
Callista
I cough for the hundredth time, trying to ignore the fire that slowly envelops me, burning so hot that I’m soaked in sweat and slightly dizzy. “Shouldn’t it burn my skin?” I whisper, wondering why the licks are not touching me. I glance down, watching it burn all around me but never directly on me.
And the lighter that he dropped earlier just lies on the floor, the wood behind me burning, but it doesn’t hurt me.
As if the fire on the wooden stake is… fake?
Frowning, I try to make sense of it through the dizziness from all the smoke when I hear whimpering sounds coming from the distance, and then a door on some far away wall bursts open, and a black creature enters, barking.
Ares?
“Get out, Ares!” I shout, not wanting the poor dog to die as well because of the insanity of his owner.
And where did he come from anyway? Does Arson have secret passages in his basement that he uses in case of fire?
But then this is not so farfetched. I imagine a psycho like him has to be ready for any disaster.
The dog doesn’t listen to me though, and instead comes closer, jumping through the fire gracefully and landing on his paws, the knife in his jaw glistening in the room, fire reflecting in it. “What are you doing?” I ask him when he comes closer, watching the fire warily before jumping once again and landing behind me, the razor-sharp steel grazing my palms as if he tries to put it there. “Do you want me to take it?” I clench my hands around it, crying out in pain when it digs into my skin and no doubt draws blood.
I manage to maneuver it between my hands, and strangely it’s easy to start to rip open the rope. I’m breathing heavily and blinking so I won’t faint under all this heat.
Finally, the rope drops free from me, and Ares barks, jumping from the circle, and I do the same, my bare feet pounding on the rusty floor while I try to see anything around me, but the only thing visible is smoke.
The way to the door is blocked by fire that burns so brightly it’s a wonder Arson passed by it since he left in this direction.
Ares nudges my leg though, tugging on my white dress that I don’t even remember wearing. Arson must have put it on me!
He pulls me and I follow, coughing into my hand while blindly walking in the smoke haze. My source of comfort is the dog who must know the way out if he is so persistent.
We quickly arrive at a door that leads to a dark tunnel. I sigh when the coldness around me brings relief to my heated skin. Ares lets go of me, walking around me to nudge me harder from the back, and I understand he wants me to speed up.
I run with all the strength I have in me, noticing a bright light at the end of the tunnel, and figure it must be the way out. Ares breathes heavily next to me but keeps my pace, not going far away from me, as if protecting me from any danger that might come.
I cry out when I step on something and fall to the ground, hitting my shoulder on the wall, and I grab it, my head spinning. Ares barks, gripping my collar and dragging me toward the opening, and I get up, swaying a little but able to follow him again.
Five more steps and I stop to breathe in the fresh scent of the morning air, placing my hands on my thighs. Ares growls.
“What in the hell is going on here?” I whisper, watching the house in front of me burst into flames as a loud boom comes from the basement, shaking the entire house and rattling the foundation. “Is this why you were hurrying me up?” I ask the dog who keeps his gaze on the house, his back straight like he is ready to pounce at any moment, and uneasiness along with confusion rushes through me, among other things.
This dog listens and loves only Arson, and no way would he have done it if it wasn’t at his owner’s order.
If Arson planned this all along, then what he did to me was a… decoy?
What did he say earlier?
The decoy must die in order for the hunter to catch his prey.
So all of this was to catch Caspian?
When realization of his plan hits me, I whispe
r, “No,” and take a step toward the house, ready to interrupt whatever he has planned, which inevitably will result in his death, when a strong arm wraps around my waist and a hand covers my mouth, stilling my scream for help.
And no matter how much I struggle in this hold, I’m powerless to stop the destruction that’s about to happen inside.
Arson
The floor shakes beneath us, making cups drop from the counters and shatter around us, but we don’t pay attention to that.
Instead, Caspian claps, grinning. “The basement exploded. You are a master of your craft.” He rests his chin on the back of his hand. “Maybe all those years ago, we should have done it together. Then I would have kept you with me, and we’d have been friends forever.” He flicks the lighter between his fingers. “But I couldn’t resist unscrewing the gasoline bottle with the wrench and then spraying it around the doorways while everyone was sleeping. Then all I needed was matches. You know what I was thinking all this time?”
Glancing at the clock one more time, I know I no longer have to withstand this madness in front of me that should have been put down years ago.
Sometimes in the night, I’ve wondered if my resentment was just my imagination and I should let go of Caspian. After all, we were kids, right? Everyone deserves a second chance.
But when I figured out his obsession with the whorehouse, I knew there was no hope, and simply killing him didn’t seem like an elaborate enough plan.
The thing about Caspian is that he is obsessed with everything and everyone that has to do with fire and Callista.
And killing him among the chaos he craves and loves so much is the only way to free her from him.
When I figured out she was his decoy all along, I knew he was watching me all this time and just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. His ego is so big that he loved this whole waiting game, enjoying watching me fall for the angel until he could find a moment to snatch her away from me and burn us both in that fucking building.
The minute Callista saw him though, the rules of the game changed. He could no longer stay in the shadows, because in his eyes he’d look weak. And knowing his desire for mass killings, it was just a matter of when he would strike or try to kidnap my woman.
I could have never allowed that, and I felt his eyes on me the entire evening.
So arranging Callista’s death was the only way to lure him inside without endangering her.
Killing him is an honor.
Caspian’s voice snaps me out of my thoughts. “I wished for my mom to finally fucking die so she’d stop excusing the life she was leading.” He slaps his cheek, biting on his lip before adding, “More than anyone else in this world, I hated her… for subjecting me to that life.”
That’s what happens to a child when nothing but hate is planted in the roots of his soul.
“Your biggest problem, Caspian, is that you blame everyone else for your shortcomings.”
Anger rises in him as he straightens, the flicking stops, and before I can do anything, he drops it on the floor. Instantly, fire ignites around us, spreading rapidly across the surface, the orange color swallowing everything in its wake while leaving only ash behind.
Jumping over the counter in one swift move, I slam my fist into Caspian’s face, and he stumbles back while I continue to talk, so for once this idiot listens. “Your past has no justification for the hideous crimes you’ve committed and want to continue.” I slam another fist, but he catches that one, surprising me with his strength, and delivers his own blow to my stomach, making me bend in two.
“They treated us like dirt. We starved. We begged, and no one listened!” he screams, aiming another punch, but I duck to the side, hitting his back. He cries out but stays standing as we circle one another, with the fire following the path he set for it and blazing wildly. “I cried and cried on that night while the guard stood there doing nothing!”
“That’s them! How about everyone else you killed that night?” I shout and kick him in the gut, making him bend, and then I grab his neck, dragging him to the table and slamming his head against it with full force, the cracking sound echoing through the walls. “You don’t get to decide what the other kids need. They didn’t ask for your help. So let me offer my help instead.” I lift him so he faces me, blood pouring from his nose while his focus is glassy for a second. “I’ll end your eternal suffering, and you send the devil my regards.”
He laughs, blood spilling from his mouth, and he chokes on it before whispering, “What about the fire?” He weakly points at the fire rapidly moving toward us. “You think you can escape it.”
“Unlike you, fire is my best friend and I thrive in it,” I reply, shaking him a little. “I use it for the greater good and don’t tarnish it with innocent lives as you did.”
Caspian fists my shirt and leans closer, barely standing upright. “I always wanted to kill you. Do you think I’d trust fire to do it twice? It failed me the first time.” He waits a bit before adding, “I installed a bomb inside this house that I activated before entering.” He laughs in my ear while my hands around his throat tighten; he starts to struggle for breath but still manages to croak, “You have exactly ten minutes to get the hell out.” I glance at the clock barely visible through the smoke, and in this moment, the curtain falls down. “Will you have time to escape? The clock is ticking.”
“Go fuck yourself, Caspian,” I say right before I throw him into the blazing fire near the stairs. He screams when the licks touch his skin, consuming him easily and burning him alive in front of my eyes.
Yet he still manages to scream, “Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock.” And then he stumbles back, disappearing in the haze of fire while his raspy cries vanish among the flames, cementing once and for all that he is gone.
My payback is done.
Not wasting any time, I dart toward the door, getting the hell out of here and not trusting his information about the bomb. The fucker could have been bluffing for all I know, but I don’t think so.
A ceiling beam falls, hitting the bookshelf on its way down, and just like the domino effect, it follows, crashing to the floor, but I have no time to avoid it as it falls on me, pinning both my legs, and something sharp digs into my right thigh.
Crying out from pain traveling through my entire system, I look around me only to see fire everywhere, my face burning hot while I push at the bookshelf, trying to move it up so I can slide out from underneath it, but it is no use.
My hands are too sweaty from the heat, so they keep on slipping, and I can’t get my body in the proper position. “Come on!” I say, trying again, and use all my strength to move a little to the side, but it’s still not enough to let me out of here.
The fire around me grows relentlessly; it will reach me at any moment, and while before I would have welcomed death by it… in this moment, I despise it.
Taking a deep breath, I grip the underside of the bookshelf, and not paying attention to my burned and bloodied hands, try to lift it again, but then I see another set of hands grabbing it and my gaze travels to a man appearing on my left side.
Santiago.
I’ve never been happier to see him in my life!
He winks at me. “You didn’t think we’d listen and stay out of it, did you?”
We? Who is we?
Then another set of hands appears from the right in front of me as Callum’s voice carries between us. “Lift the fucking thing, Santiago.”
“On the count of three.” Santiago glances in my direction. “Slide him out quickly; this thing is heavy as fuck.” I have no time to turn and check who is he addressing as he begins to count. “Uno, dos, tres.” They lift it up as I place my hands back using my upper body strength to slide out, but then someone pulls me roughly from behind, getting me out from under the thing just as the guys’ hands start to tremble.
I groan when I realize the sharp knife I kept inside the bookshelf nicked my inner thigh right near the artery. My jeans are practically soaked wi
th blood in such a small amount of time, and I feel a little bit dizzy.
Then the man behind me crouches next to me, and I see who it is, a smile appearing on my face.
Lachlan.
I should have known that for me, he will come and will never leave me to rot in hell alone.
But then the smile vanishes from my face when the walls shake a little as something crashes in the distance along with the sound of glass exploding. I didn’t even know I had so many fucking windows in the house, and I shout, “We need to get out of here. There is a bomb inside.”
“Por el amor de Dios!” Santiago exclaims as he helps Lachlan pick me up. I’m hanging both of my arms over their shoulders while Callum scans the environment.
“The path to the main door is blocked. Where is another door?”
“I have a tunnel inside the kitchen.” Everyone’s head swings in the direction of the rapidly growing fire there, noting only one small path left open for us to move through. “Let’s go now.”
Callum walks first, shoving books out of the way so the guys can drag me through, but fuck this shit; it hurts, and the fire is insane.
But I think it’s poetic, sort of.
Fire is what dumped me in this life in the first place where I found Santiago and Callum in the pit of hell. Both of them were the ones to pull me out of captivity, and then when I was down… Lachlan showed up.
Life truly has a way of bringing everything full circle.
“Bet you are grateful now you didn’t kick me out of town, huh?” Santiago asks with humor in his tone, and I shake my head, because only he can joke in such situations.
Ignoring him, Lachlan barks, “How many minutes do we have?”
“If I go by what Caspian said… we have three minutes.”
“Fucking great.” Callum leans down to remove a counter that is fully blazing, and we’re on the go again only for him to mutter, “And how long will it take us to reach the exit?”
“Three minutes,” I reply, and collective chuckles erupt, easing just for a second the tension running through us at the prospect of fucking dying here.
Arson’s Captive Page 36