Reggie’s eyes widened in shock. He crumpled to the floor with a heavy thud, blood already soaking through his shirt.
Tazzy screamed, but the sound came out muffled and broken behind the gag. Her heart slammed against her ribs so hard she thought it might burst. She stared at Reggie’s still body, horror flooding through her.
The General looked down at the dead man with mild annoyance, then turned back to Tazzy. “He’d outlived his usefulness. I don’t believe in loose ends.”
The flames now crawled up the curtains behind him like hungry orange snakes. The heat pressed against her skin, singeing the ends of her hair and making her eyes water. Thick black smoke rolled acrossthe ceiling and poured down the walls. It wouldn’t be long before she wasn’t able to breathe.
“You know what the best part of all this is?” he said conversationally, as if they were having tea. “I’m leaving the country tonight. But I wanted to stay long enough to watch you burn. Oh, not for your sake. But I must admit I get a bit giddy when I think of how much Jaxon will suffer when he finds what’s left of you. Ashes. That’s all he’ll have. And he’ll know it was his fault.”
Tazzy shook her head fiercely, tears streaming down her face. She tried to speak, shook her head, and finally spat out the gag. “He’s… coming. He’ll… save me.”
The General laughed, low and ugly. “Think what you like, little girl. You’ll realize how wrong you are soon enough.” Coughing, he stepped back toward the door, watching the flames grow higher with satisfaction. “It’s getting a mite stuffy in here, so I’d best be going. Be sure and scream, now that your gag is out. The neighbors can’t hear you, and the more noise you make, the more Jaxon will fight to get inside to try and save you.”
He stood there glaring at her as if waiting for a response. But she didn’t feel like talking. She was alone with a madman, who couldn’t see his own madness.
The fire was roaring louder now, greedy and alive. Orange flames raced across the floor, licking at the furniture and climbing the walls. The smoke burned her eyes and clawed at her throat.
Even the General was coughing now, having pulled his shirt collar up over his mouth.
Tazzy struggled against the ropes, but they only cut deeper into her wrists and thighs. That’s when she noticed that, in his haste, the General had shot Reggie before he had completely tied her calves. The rope was loose enough there for her to bend her knees. If only the General would leave, she might still have a chance to escape.
That’s when the crash echoed from the front of the house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Jaxon leaned hard over the handlebars, the Harley roaring beneath him like an angry beast as he raced toward Breezy’s old family house. The wind whipped against his face, stinging his eyes and carrying the faint scent of pine and dust from the roadside. His heart slammed against his ribs with every mile, a heavy, frantic drumbeat that matched the thunder of the engine.
Sabre Security and the Ruthless Saints were on their way, but they wouldn’t get there soon enough. No matter what anyone said, he wasn’t about to wait when his Darkling was in the General’s clutches.
He could see her face in his mind — those wide, trusting dark eyes, the way her small body curled into him like he was the only safe place in the world. She had to be scared right now, alone with that monster. And he had promised her, whispered it against her skin night after night, that he would always come for her.
He wasn’t going to break that promise now.
The familiar turnoff for the wealthy side of town came into view. Jaxon took it fast, the bike leaning so hard his knee nearly brushed the asphalt. The long driveway stretched ahead, and at the end sat Breezy’s old family house. To his horror, smoke curled out from one of the upper windows like black fingers reaching for the sky.
He killed the engine halfway up the drive and dropped the bike. The sudden silence rang in his ears, broken only by the crackle of flames somewhere inside. He slammed against the door, turning the knob as he hit it.
The front door was locked. Stepping back from the door, he slammed his boot into it once, twice, the wood splintering under the force. On the third kick, the door flew open with a loud crack. Thick smoke poured out to meet him, heavy with the sharp, chemical bite of gasoline and the acrid smell of burning wood and fabric.
“Tazzy!” he roared, voice raw as he charged inside.
The heat hit him like a physical wall, slamming into his chest and face. Flames licked up the walls of the living room, orange and greedy, casting wild, flickering shadows. The air was thick, almost solid, burning his lungs with every breath. He pulled his arm over his mouth and nose, but it barely helped. His eyes watered instantly from the smoke.
“Tazzy!” he yelled out to her.
“He’s got a gun.” She yelled back, immediately followed by the unmistakable sound of a slap. Jaxon growled in fury as he bolted toward the sound.
Smoke seared his eyes and throat, making every breath feel like swallowing fire. His heart hammered so hard it felt like it might crack his ribs.
He burst into the den, and the world narrowed to a single point of white-hot terror.
Tazzy was tied to a wooden chair in the middle of the room, arms pinned behind her, thighs bound so tight the rope cut into her soft skin. The fire was closing in fast, flames crawling across the floor toward her like living snakes, licking at the legs of the chair. The General stood beside her, gun pointed straight at Jaxon, his face twisted with triumph. A dead man — the driver — lay on the floor in a spreading pool of dark blood, the metallic scent mixing with the smoke.
Jaxon’s heart stopped for one agonizing second.
“Tazzy,” he breathed, voice breaking on her name. He could see the red mark on the side of her face where the General had slapped her.
She looked at him with wide, terrified eyes, tears streaming down her soot-streaked face.