Page 103 of The Truths We Burn

But that’s the thing with Ponderosa Springs—nothing stays buried. Not a goddamn thing.

“All alone tonight, East? No meatheads to back you up?” I ask, unconvinced how he can be confident in his safety when he’s stepping straight into a lion’s den. A group of lions that haven’t eaten in months and are ready to feed on just about anything.

Even preppy assholes in sneakers.

“I don’t need to travel in a constant group like teenage girls going to the bathroom, you know. Unlike you.” He starts to walk past us, clicking the unlock button on his car that happens to be parked near my bike, but decides to add another smart-ass remark for good measure, “Soon enough, I’ll be cleaning this town of you. All of you. Taking out the trash, just like we did with your slut of a girlfriend. Rose.”

My toes are tingling, my tremble getting worse. I bite down on the cigarette in my mouth as my thumb rapidly taps my thigh. My impulsive desires are starting to takeover, starting to win.

Hearing him say her name, hearing him allude to some type of involvement, makes our plan of waiting fly out the door for me. I can only control myself for so long before I snap.

Silas moves in his direction silently, carrying the weight of his unfinished business and guilt on his shoulders. I follow, not because he needs backup, but because I want a piece of whatever flesh Si rips from him.

They stand toe-to-toe. “If I find out you had something to do with Rose, Easton, I will make you beg on your knees for me to kill you.”

Easton’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, his mouth not matching his nervous stature. “Empty fucking threats. You all are fucking full of them. Always have been. When are you going to do something other than talk out of your asses?” He leans in close to Silas’s face, making the flint inside of me strike. There’s no putting it out now, not until I get what I need.

“You know, if I did have something to do with little Rosie’s death,” he whispers, “I would’ve at least tasted the product first to make sure she was worth the heat.”

Tick, tick, boom.

There isn’t much thought of consequence or repercussion for my actions when I snatch the back of Easton’s neck, holding him like a rabbit caught in a trap, feeling his heartbeat spike through the pads of my fingers.

All I can see are bright orange flames and captivating darkness, controlled by nothing but primal instinct.

A film reel of everything crooked he’d ever said or done to me, to my friends, flashes inside my mind. The cruelty towards Rose, the asshole remarks, the times I watched him grope Sage right in front of me.

They are gasoline to my blaze.

Now, the world will see him for what he truly is. He’ll be just as disgusting on the outside as he is on the inside. No more hiding behind his golden boy image.

It’s time for Easton to be punished.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he shrieks high enough to break glass, trying to push me away, but my grip holds.

“Making good on all those empty fucking threats.”

I send my knee into his gut, making him double over with a grunt of pain. I’m not doing it to hurt him, just enough to get leverage so that I could.

He reaches up to my forearm, his nails digging into my body, his weak attempt at defending himself. I jerk his body closer to my bike, practically dragging him the few inches I need him to go. For someone so tough, he sure is wimpy.

“Rook.”

I’m not sure who says my name, but it’s too late for it. Too late for talking. I’m past that stage, and there’s no stopping me. I won’t be finished until I feed the evil inside. Until I give him what he deserves.

The devil is getting his fix, delivering punishment.

I shove the left side of his face straight onto my exhaust, plastering him to the side of steaming hot metal. My body buzzes with pleasure when I feel him try to pull away and hear him start to yell in despair.

The smell makes me inhale deeply, and I tilt my head up to the sky as I close my eyes, reveling in this feeling of power. Muscle and tissue being consumed by the heat emit a fragrance like no other. Charcoal and seared hair mix together, making this sulfur scent of skin melting.

I can hear the sizzling of meat on a griddle just below his screams of misery as he begs incoherently for any form of mercy, but he isn’t getting any of that here. Not tonight.

I give him another few good seconds before I release my hold, his feet giving out on him so he falls to the asphalt with a hard thud. I watch as his face rips clean from the exhaust, pieces of his flesh still sticking to the shiny metal.

I make a mental note to clean it.

With shaking hands, he reaches up to try and assess the damage. His skin looks like melted, stringy plastic, the bumbling tissue and oozing yellow liquid from fat being broken down. Major third-degree burns cover his entire cheek. Unfixable damage has now been done.