Page 58 of Unlocking Ruin

“I don’t share.”

“And I don’t cross lines as you do. I’m staying right here, in this house.” Torben points his finger at the floor, staking his claim.

“Rylan wants me,” I say, a wicked grin tugging at my lips. “Even you can feel it.”

“Steffen,” he says, standing up and grabbing the back of his neck. “I want you to be happy, and if she makes you happy, so be it. But more than that, I want you to be safe. You’re playing the most dangerous game of your life right now. You need to focus and not let your feelings for Rylan get in the way. I won’t lose you again.”

Stepping back, he looks me up and down; his eyes lingering on my chest where my scars are. Before he blinks, I see tears in his eyes. He turns and walks to the entrance; facing me, he blocks it. “Do you understand?” he asks firmly. “If I sense I am going to lose you, I will do what has to be done.”

“Help me win, so it never comes to that.” I won’t let him cage me. If he meant it, he’d have done it already.

“How can I help you win if you refuse to tell me your next move?”

Ring, ring.

Torben clenches his jaw, his gaze fixated on my phone. “Answer him,” he demands, as he leaves.

As the phone vibrates, a shock travels up my arm, making my heart pound. I hit accept and lift it to my ear.

“Did you get me my answers?” I ask Alister before he can speak.

“Stop this. Hand Rylan over to me. I promise I’ll keep her safe. I talked to the Kings. I have a meeting set up to inquire about Nelson.”

Step one is done. He’s got a meeting with The Rites of Passage.

“Just like you kept my father safe?” I sneer. His silence makes my hands feel empty, and the need to fill them with blood rivals everything. “Remember when I used to call you Uncle Alister? You were like a second father to me.”

“I still am, and what you’re doing is wrong, Steffen.” The desperation in his voice makes me sick. “Now more than ever, we need to stick together.”

Reaching down, I press my palm on my ribs where some of my dad’s skin is melted into mine. I am sticking together, Alister.

“Come back home, Steffen.”

“My home is fatherless and empty now,” I state in an absolutely dead tone. Numb to my core.

I still call my father’s phone, thinking he will pick up. Some days I want to carve a piece of myself off and throw it to the wind so a piece of my father can be at peace. No untouched body remained; only a few bones and gnawed flesh survived the flames. They sank to the bottom of the fjord after the boat exploded. I sent a diver to collect what they could, but it’s not the same.

“Get me my location,” I demand. Enraged, I hang up the phone, turn, and hurl it onto the floor.

No one is going to stop me. No one will stand in my way. Revenge is inevitable.

There are two types of burning.

Both can kill each other. It just depends which is strongest.

Can you guess?

One is weightless, and no matter how much you kick and scream, it clings like a fine piece of static hair stuck to you. Fire. It slowly dissolves your skin, like a bubbling pot of caramel.

It’s astonishing that something so fragile can cause so much damage. Water and wind can destroy it easily, but a man’s crying and begging only feeds it.

The other type of burn is so heavy, it makes you wish you could implode to escape it. Water. Yes, it burns as it sinks into your every pore just like fire does, only where fire seeks to destroy, water aims to claim. In this briny scenario, your lungs, nose, and eyes will be submerged in the burn.

Both burns ache; both present a terrible acid filled itch you can’t scratch.

I have experienced both.

The smell of melting, bubbling flesh fills my nose. I don’t register it at first because I’m screaming. Not because I’m on fire, but because I’m watching my father’s body burn—disintegrate—right on top of me. He looks at me, desperate. His eyes roam down to my hands, which are free but not strong enough to save us both. He nods, his eyes wide and pleading.