Temptation of her Flame ✔️

chapter thirty six

"Oh, no," I murmured. The heaps of flesh scattered across the pavement towards the entrance mildly resembled sprinkles on cupcakes, randomly and carelessly dropped. My throat constricted, but I didn't allow myself to ponder too much of my current circumstance. It would overwhelm me.

"My men are aware that they're not allowed to touch a strand of your hair. There are several within the property, so you wouldn't be able to achieve anything you desperately wish," Cole said. During his long pause in speech, the cogs in his brains must have been rotating furiously. He spoke as if the words were memorised. "You can bathe. I will have civil conversations with Vincenzo in the meantime."

They couldn't maim the other without hurting themselves in the process, so I nodded and sauntered without grace towards the door.

Inside, my heart cracked and free-fell to the bottom of my stomach, buried in the contents of undigested material. Bile surged up my oesophagus, and I had to slap a hand over my mouth in an attempt not to puke.

Bodies everywhere. Thick maroon liquid seeped into the cracks on the ground, painting an intricate image of pure monstrosity. A masterpiece of limbs and wide eyes and lives with unfinished narratives cut short.

People were standing around, glancing at me first with a warning before turning to exchange mutters with others. They were Cole's workers. I had to give him credit for being able to get this far.

I ventured further into the room, spotting a man lounging on a couch and another toasting a piece of bread for himself. They looked too comfortable to be a team of gangsters.

I had a plan, but it required a life. I wasn't keen on being a murderer; very few people were. Five minutes ago, contained by the car and separated from the outside world, I decided. I thought, fuck it. For Emma and Damon, I am willing to live with the guilt.

Now, I wasn't so sure.

However, shooting Vincenzo's uncle wasn't a difficult feat, and he might have already bled to death.

Time had liquified and dripped from the space between my fingers, bracing themselves for the impact against the ground. I had no more left, and I had to choose.

Panic tore at my skin. I needed someone as a sacrifice. I'd lead them downstairs to the library, where a bomb would detonate. The entire mansion would feel the impact, and Vincenzo's emergency precautions would snap in place. He'd advised me about it all before, but my mind was a fog of too many overpowering memories.

Amid alarm, I might have a better chance of intercepting Emma and Damon. As long as they were out of harm's way, Cole would lose his tools for success.

I didn't know how to proceed. If the plan worked, I'd become a killer. I'd be labelling myself an awful person, even worse than my father.

What was morally right in my situation?

For Damon and Emma's safety, a stranger must die.

A stranger must die.

It became a chant in my head as I searched around the area. My eyes darted from one place to another—a woman on her phone, a man dozing off while on his feet. My feet moved mechanically without a sense of direction despite the agony.