Page 51 of Perdition

Cluster wasn’t bothered by Frost’s tone; the man was impervious to ill regard, having no sense of shame whatsoever.

“We’re starting that bonfire, was wondering when you were coming out.”

At Cluster’s words, Frost furrowed his brows. “What bonfire?” He had no fucking idea what the man was talking about. “We celebratin’ something?”

Cluster shrugged. “Dunno. All I know is that Em had his load of logs dumped in the back. She told me to douse it in gas, and make sure you were here before we lit ‘er up.”

That dread, his constant companion over the last several days, rose to choke him.

“She was here?”

“Yeah. Couple of hour ago. Would have started the fire sooner, but you only just got here a bit ago, and I was busy with Kiki, so?—”

“Did she say where she got the wood for this bonfire?”

Cluster shook his head. “No. No clue, Prez.”

Pushing his chair back, Frost shot to his feet, a sickening, sour fear coiling in his guts.

He pushed Cluster aside and hurried out of his office and toward the back door, his heart in his throat, his body vibrating with tension.

Just as he burst through the door to the back yard—asphalt, gravel, and dead grass—Cluster shouted, “Dammit, Tony, I told you to wait until Frost was here!”

Tony had just tossed a lit book of matches into the pyre, and the flames caught immediately.

But it wasn’t the sight of the growing fire that made that animalistic sound of agony rip from his chest.

It was the sight of a carving he knew by heart, in a two-foot section of tree trunk that used to be part of a whole fucking tree.

“What the fuck!” he cried, shoving his trembling hands through his hair. “What thefuck!”

This couldn’t be happening—he couldn’t be seeing what he was seeing!

“Frost…Prez!” Cluster shouted. “What the hell?”

Frost ignored him, hurrying toward the now fully engulfed pyre. Without thought, without care, he reached for the log at the top?—

He was yanked back by hands denying him what he so desperately needed to do. He struggled, fought, cursed, and was brought to his knees several feet from the burning remains of the red maple tree.

“No! Let me go! I have to save it!” he bellowed, breathless, his body aching from the force of three sets of hands holding him down.

“Frost, fuck, what the hell are you trying to do?” Tornado demanded from Frost’s right side, where he was holding Frost’s shoulder and bicep, his grip too strong to break. “Whatever the hell you’re trying to get is gone, man. That whole thing is on fire.”

“Shit, Prez, what the hell is going on?” Cluster inquired with a seriousness Frost had never heard from him before. “When Em had this dropped here, I just thought she was getting rid of a tree for that tree dude friend of hers.”

On his knees, his arms secured to his sides, Horde’s massive hand on the back of his neck, Frost stared, tears sliding down his now soot-covered face.

“It’s gone,” he choked out, his throat burning from the heat, the smoke, and his own sobs. “She cut it down…it’s gone.”

Mads love Em 4-ever.

She’d cut down their tree.

It’s just a fucking tree….

He’s said those words, not meaning them, and she’d acted, quickly and efficiently proving him a liar. Because that had been more than just a tree to him…tothem.

And now it was burning, the smoke rising into the twilit sky carrying their memories—their first kiss, their first brush of naked skin against skin, their first promises to one another.