Page 84 of Seal My Fate
My foot slips in the gasoline, and I stumble, trying not to lose my balance. The sound captures Hugh’s attention; he starts to turn—
“AAAAIIII!” I swing at him with everything I have. The wrench makes contact with his shoulder, and he fires, glass shattering nearby. Wren stumbles free as Hugh whirls to face me; he raises the gun to fire again straight at—
BANG!
Saint dives, pushing me to the ground. I see blood blossom on his shirt, but he doesn’t hesitate: He rolls off and lunges at Hugh, tackling him to the ground and slamming a fearsome punch into his face, over and over again. Hugh gurgles helplessly, releasing his grip on the gun. Saint snatches it away, and stands over his body, levelling it directly at him. “Don’t you fucking move!” he roars.
There’s silence.
I gasp for air, and struggle to my feet again. We’re surrounded by broken glass, and in the corner, I see flames; a fire started by a stray bullet, but it’s the least of my concerns right now. “You’re bleeding!” I cry. Saint barely glances down.
“It’s just my shoulder. I’ll be fine.”
“Wren?” I turn. She’s sagging against one of the cars, gazing at us with wide eyes.
“I’m… I’m fine,” she stutters. I go to her and envelop her in a fierce hug.
“Thank God,” I hold her tightly. “Don’t you dare pull a stunt like that again.”
“It worked, didn’t it?” she manages a faint smile, pulling away.
I move to Saint, to check his wound. I could cry with relief when I see that bullet tore straight through his upper arm, a clean wound. “See, it’s fine,” he reassures me, as I grab a clean rag from nearby and tie it on to stem the bleeding. “We’re alright, baby. Everything’s OK.”
“Is that what you think?” On the ground, Hugh spits blood from his mouth, laughing. “What are you going to do, call the police on me? We own the fucking police! The courts, the judges… Don’t you idiots understand? Nobody will stand against us, not if they know what’s good for them. We’re untouchable!” he yells. “We’re—”
BANG!
Hugh slumps to the ground, blood pooling from the back of his head.
Dead.
I let out a scream of shock.
Wren’s standing there, calmly holding Saint’s weapon, the one he dropped. She walks closer, until she’s standing right over Hugh’s body. Then she fires again, right into his chest.
“Wren!” I cry.
She finally lowers the weapon, like she’s coming out of a trance. “Every night, he’s haunted me,” she says, her voice dazed. “Every night. Not anymore.”
“Tessa…” Saint’s voice pulls my attention. He nods, the fire in the corner is catching now, flames racing along the spilled mess of gasoline.
Fuck.
“We need to put the fire out!” I exclaim, looking around. “Where’s the fire extinguisher, or a hose? Your father has to have one in here, somewhere.”
“No,” Saint stops me, holding me back. “Let it burn.”
I look at him in confusion. “But… The house… Your home.”
He shakes his head, looking grim. “Wren was right. It’s all haunted. There’s no way of saving it. We have to burn it to the ground.”
We lock eyes, and I nod, seeing the determination in his gaze. He’s not just talking about the house. He means all of it.
The Ashford title, his family’s legacy, his birthright. It’s built on lies and a cruelty that have echoed through the generations, corrupting everyone they touch. But Saint is willing to burn all of it to ashes. He wants to be free of it.
The poisoned legacy ends, tonight.
“Wren, grab that gasoline,” I tell her, my heart racing. “Come on.”