My thumb hovered over the call button, just as the glass had hovered over my skin.
This time, I pressed down without hesitation. Those assholes needed to refund us or fix this shit. Our pack was on the precipice of signing the biggest touring deal of our lives. Cirque du Sang didn’t let fuck ups into their operation. That’s why the continued to be the darkest, most elite performance company in the damn world.
No Alpha, ‘ticking time bomb’ bullshit was going to cock block DemonX.
2
ASHER, DEMONX PACK
{Six months ago}
Let fire consume doubt…
A poem had been stuck in my head for weeks. It stayed there, rooted in my grey matter, refusing to leave me in silence.
Burn down cities if you must.
Destroy the trappings of industry.
Do all that is necessary.
To safeguard the brotherhood of man.
The night air was cooler than it should be this time of year. Vegas nights could drop into the thirties during winter, but if Autumn already felt like this, we were going to have a record chill in November and December.
A breeze bit at my bare upper body with sharp teeth, but the discomfort it caused was easily ignored. Obsession did that to a person: narrowing the scope of their focus down to the one thing they really wanted and giving them the ability to neglect everything else.
And my obsession tonight? What I wanted most?
Was to burn the damn world down.
I crossed my arms, brain vaguely registering the million goosebumps. I’d spilled kerosene on my leather jacket and shirt. So, I’d stripped them off and tossed them over the seat of my bike to deal with later.
You don’t play with fire wearing flammable clothing, not unless you plan to burn.
And I wasn’t there yet. I wasn’t ready to flame out and leave behind a pile of ashes. Though that ending would fit me. No one would expect different.
Standing next to the opening I’d snipped in the chain link fence, I studied the warehouse—a storage facility for Turner Natural Gas. Its large, rectangular silhouette loomed against an evening sky sprinkled with few stars peeking out from thick clouds pregnant with rain. I knew, down deep, that I’d picked tonight because of the forecast. High probability of heavy rains. Even if the fire department didn’t respond quickly, the downpour would keep my handiwork from spreading.
Reaching into my jean pocket, I pulled out my lighter. Raising it to eye level, I flicked its thin wheel, causing the ridges to strike the synthetic flint. As soon as the flame came to life—an ombre of orange and yellow slipping down into the inner, hotter blue—I was transfixed.
The licking, glowing tongue danced as a gust pushed against it. Fire was something I understood. Fire didn’t change. It came to life. It burned. Eventually, it died. Sometimes it left small damage in its wake, other times it destroyed a city block.
Noises behind me made me turn. A cluster of kids from the trailer park across the lot were gathered around broken swings and a busted slide. They watched me with interest. I waved. Those kids reminded me of myself and my pack. Directionless. Born without advantages. Most of them not at home becausetheir parents or guardians were either working, high, or didn’t give a shit about them. I didn’t know any of them well, but I knew they wouldn’t rat me out. Our kind stuck together. They were another reason I counted on the rain. I was a maniac, not a murderer. Those kids needed the chance to grow up and raise hell before they burned. I wondered if their homes were warm enough. Half of them didn’t even have coats.
Turning away from them, I flicked the lighter closed, then open again, watching the flame spring to life each time like it was begging for something to consume. I knew the feeling.
"This is stupid even for you, Asher," I muttered to myself, my breath visible in the chill air. I wasn't sure who I was trying to convince. I’d never hit a target quite so close to the city, especially not one with kids nearby. But this company… this piece of shit company… kept raising prices. They were making it nearly impossible for many people to afford the natural gas they relied on for cooking and heating. If winter was colder than normal, Turner Natural Gas wouldn’t give a shit if some elderly Beta froze in her apartment.
The lighter’s flame wavered again but didn't extinguish. Resilient little bastard. I turned my palm upward and held it several inches above the fire, feeling the heat tickle my skin. Not painful, just present. A reminder that there were still sensations to be felt in this numb existence I'd been sleepwalking through.
I lowered my hand slightly, shrinking the distance between flesh and flame. The heat intensified, crossing the threshold from warmth to discomfort. I counted silently. One... two... three... My lips curled into a smile that held no humor. Still nothing close to what I needed.
"Fuck it."
I tilted my hand downward, letting the flame lick directly against my palm. The pain was immediate and clarifying, sending electrical impulses of agony up my arm and into mybrain. My fingers instinctively twitched, wanting to pull away, but I held firm. The scent of burning flesh reached my nostrils, acrid and sweet in a way that turned my stomach.
Still, I didn't move.
