Page 100 of Blood and Thorns

“Justice is not the same as vengeance,” she whispered, fear a fine thread through her words. “You’ll start a war.”

I wanted to laugh, but found the sound stuck in my throat. “My beautiful little rabbit,the war has already begun.”

Chapter 44

Sebastian

The whoosh of the match made my heart stop, my brothers unable to cry as Margot set their crumbled bodies alight. I tried to pull at my binds, but every second I felt myself weakening. Bleeding out against the polished floor.

“Please!” I begged, my wrists caught behind my back as the ropes cinched tighter and tighter the more I struggled.

Margot frowned, looking back over her shoulder. My voice was barely a whisper, broken from screaming and crying. From cursing my father even as he’d pleaded for her to let us live. But Margot had been relentless, enjoying watching his pain as she’d destroyed everything he supposedly loved before finally ending his life.

“We need to leave,” one of her men said, stopping her from approaching.

Margot’s smile was manic, her eyes bright as she laughed above the growing flames as I continued to fight. They clawed at the walls and climbed the curtains. I was helpless as the fire ate everything in its path.

Without another word, she left, escorted out while there was a distant pop, the floor beneath me rumbling.

Heat licked at my skin, the ropes tightening, squeezing what little breath I had left.

“Get up!” Lang screeched, his movements frantic as he appeared behind me, having snuck inside. His arm was broken, held awkwardly at his side as he tried desperately to untie the knots at my back with a single hand. “You don’t get to fucking die on me. Not after everything.”

Blood dripped slowly down his face, smearing when he wiped up to clean it from his eyes.

“You need to go,” I managed to push out, my voice as strangled as my body. “Leave!”

“Not without you.” The ropes loosened, just enough for me to free my arms and climb to my feet.

The ceiling creaked beneath the intense heat, followed by a violent screech. Langdon pushed me just as a beam fell in the space we once stood, staring at me through the flames that had finally reached us.

“Sebastian!”

I jerked awake, my hand immediately tightening on Arabella that I had somehow trapped beneath me.

“You’re okay,” she whispered, reaching up to brush my cheeks, her fingers coming away wet.

I frowned down at her, my lungs aching as I tried to control my body’s reaction. She wore a long T-shirt, and the window told me it was still dark. Late.

“You were screaming,” she explained, and that reminded me I’d taken a pill. Just to help me calm down and actually sleep. Except it hadn’t fucking helped me sleep, and instead trapped me in memories I’d rather forget.

Rage burned beneath my skin, turning my breathing harsh and my muscles to stone. Jumping up, I stalked out ofthe room, needing to create space. To calm down as my demons all but tore at my mind.

I needed to remove these memories from my head.

Arabella followed, keeping a wary step behind. I ignored her entirely, my attention on the canvas I set up and the paints that splashed onto the surface.

The flames I created were violent shades of orange and red, shadowed with vicious faces. Monsters that clawed at the figure in the centre. Langdon. I painted him with his mouth open in a silent scream, unable to be heard above the roar and crackles as everything around us was ruined. Destroyed. I painted him with sorrow in his eyes, accepting his death but mourning his life.

The flames slashed at him with sharp talons, the monsters burning, ripping away his skin while I watched at just fourteen. Bleeding out.

Unable to move.

Unable to help.

Tears burned my eyes, scoring down my face much the same as they did all those years ago. But I wasn’t that same kid anymore. The one that was too small, too scared, too powerless to fight back.

Arabella stepped closer, watching me paint, her sadness thankfully silent as I poured my soul onto the canvas. Needing to purge this fucking ache that haunted me. She was patient as she waited for me to finish and then slash the piece with a knife. Tearing through the canvas as if I could that particular memory.