The flames rose faster than Matthew expected.
He threw Tom's lighter onto the oil-soaked carpet and stepped back as fire devoured the room in a hungry roar. Orange light reflected in Matthew's eyes—unblinking, cold, merciless.
Tom's body lay at the center of the inferno like a discarded piece of trash.
A fitting end.
The heat washed over Matthew's face.
He didn't flinch.
"Burn," he whispered.
He turned without looking back.
He had something—no, someone—far more precious to run to.
The rain had stopped by the time Matthew kicked open the mansion's front doors and rushed into the night, Vinny in the arms of his men. Aiden was draped over another guard's shoulder, unconscious from blood loss and trauma. Matthew threw open the passenger door of the car and climbed inside, drenched, wild, shaking.
"DRIVE!" he shouted. "NOW!"
The car sped off like a bullet.
Matthew didn't blink the entire way.
