He has a plan.
A plan built to tear a man's life apart - vein by vein, breath by breath.
From that cursed day, all he's ever wanted was to ruin him beyond recognition.
But death? Death is silence. Death is peace. And peace is mercy.
He's not here to...
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This time, I won't be updating before the target is complete.
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The only thing I ever loved about fire is that it didn't die easily. It fought back. It screamed. It demanded to be remembered.
Just like now. Water was being forced onto the flames, but it didn't dare kill them. The fire kept eating at the mansion walls, greedy and unbothered.
Fighters ran everywhere, pretending to do something, anything. But the truth was, the fire owned the night. And for a moment, I almost admired it.
I was standing inside the boundary line, along with a handful of others who thought themselves untouchable.
Their eyes flicked between the fire and me. Back and forth. Some wanted to teach me a lesson they'd never learn themselves. Some were already calculating the profit of shaking my hand later.
But all of them thought the same thing.
That it was me.
And I'd almost take the credit. Almost-if I'd actually done it.
"It must be you." The whisper brushed my ear, light but edged with amusement.
I turned. A man stood beside me-face familiar, name forgotten. Some business parasite who thought knowing me made him brave.
"Look over there." He pointed. I followed his gesture, lazy at first. Then my pulse slowed.
Bodies. White sheets. Carried out one by one toward the ambulances. He chuckled beside me. "That small frame must be that bastard's son."
My jaw locked. The world narrowed to the way the little body sagged beneath the sheet, a softness that did not belong in this heat.
I felt something sharp and private open inside me-the part that never chose battles with children, that could be ruthless and still refuse cruelty toward the small and innocent.
A tap hit my shoulder. "You did an amazing job-" The man's words broke off when I turned.
