Dread twists in my stomach. “What are you talking about?”
His jaw ticks and he presses his lips into a thin line.
“Christian, what are you talking about?” I ask again, my heart slamming in my chest.
He sighs and slowly shakes his head. “See for yourself.”
He nods his head towards the house, and I whip around and nearly collapse at the sight in front of me.
My house is on fire.
I try to rush forward, desperate to get to my parents who must still be trapped somewhere inside, but Christian is faster. His arms wrap around me and pull me against his chest in a suffocating grip.
“Let me go!” I scream, fighting against him. “Let me go!”
I try to fight him off. I try to kick and claw with every ounce of strength I have, but it’s futile.
He’s too strong and I’m too goddamn weak.
“It’s pointless.” He hisses, his voice chillingly calm as he presses his lips to my ear. “I slit their throats before I even lit the match.”
My legs give out underneath me and if Christian wasn’t holding me, I’d collapse.
They’re dead. My parents are dead.
Christian killed them before he came to my window.
Before he fucking smiled at me.
Before he proposed.
He killed them and then came to claim me, like some kind of prize.
A guttural scream tears from my throat, raw and threaded with pain, so much pain.
“Shh. It’s okay.” Christian says, trying to console me. “You don’t need them anymore. You have me.”
I try to stop screaming, but the sound only intensifies as I stare at the bright orange flames engulfing my home. It’s as if what’s happening is too much for my brain to process, so my body’s natural impulses are taking over.
Christian curses under his breath and clamps his hand over my mouth, but my screams still persist.
“Stop.” He hisses, tightening his grip. “Why are you acting like this? Don’t you understand? This was the only way. They would have never let us be together. They were always going to keep you away from me.”
Scalding tears stream down my face as he holds me there and forces me to watch the flames grow higher. Hotter. Consuming everything I love. Everything that made me feel safe.
“I love you, Dollface.” Christian croons, pressing his lips to the top of my head. “And I always fucking will.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dahlia
My eyesopen to a sea of white.
White walls, white ceiling, white light. For one disorienting second, I think I’m dead. That my soul is floating in some sort of ethereal void that exists somewhere between this life and the next.
Then, I notice the details that don’t make sense. The crown molding in the corners of the walls. The steady beep of medical equipment somewhere nearby. And the ornate light fixture in the center of the room that probably costs more than my car.
I don’t think I’m dead. But if what happened last night really happened, I might as well be.
