Page 162 of Like A Moth To A Flame

I sat in stunned silence as I watched as he tapped one out and grabbed it between his teeth, tossing the pack onto the scarred, pitted table.

“I was drugged!”

He ignored me, striking the lighter and touching it to the end until it caught, and he pulled in a deep, shaking breath, and then another.

“Y-you c-can’t…” The words fell from between my lips before I could stop them, and it wasn’t until they left my mouth that I realized how ridiculous they sounded. “You can’t smoke. I’m pregnant.”

“For now,” he said, grabbing the smoke between his thumb and forefinger and releasing a shifting cloud of grey smoke right into my face. I coughed, the acrid scent burning my throat. “But that’s gonna change.”

Change? What the hell did that mean?

I stayed quiet, simply watching him, but I didn’t have to wait long for an answer. Clamping the cigarette between his teeth, he placed the gun down on the table between us and reached into his pocket once again. After a second of fumbling, he produced a long, serrated hunting knife.

“I’m gonna cut that abomination out of you, Vanessa.”

40

When all is said and done and dead, does he love you the way that I do?

Firefly

When I woke up, the first thing I smelled was smoke.

That wasn’t unusual. Vanessa liked to say I was good at bringing my work home with me, and she was right. Between the scenes that haunted my nightmares and the smells of burning buildings that seemed to seep into my very DNA, she had no idea just how right she was.

When my eyes popped open, all I could see were the leaping, climbing flames, creeping up the walls and making their way across the rafters over my head. Soon, they’d eat through the old, rotten wood, and the ceiling and all the floors it held up, would come crashing down on my head.

Part of me—the twisted demon that took up residence in my chest—reveled in the heat and smoke. This, after all, was my playground. This was where the Firefly came out to play, and it grounded me.

Another side of me, the side that felt the comfort of Vanessa’s loving touch and the excitement at the prospect of being a new father, felt a deep-rooted panic that strangled me.

I had to get out of here. I had to get back to her.

The last thing I remembered was pulling up to the warehouse and feeling a sense of dread and unease settling into the pit of my stomach. If it hadn’t been for the needle in my neck, he wouldn’t have gotten the better of me, but he knew he couldn’t face me in a fair fight.

He knew because he’d tried before, and he’d ended up with a broken knee and some snapped ribs.

I’d have taken him apart with my bare hands, and he knew it, which is why he had to resort to chemicals to get me in this chair.

As the flames danced and the smoke thickened, my mind raced with conflicting emotions. If only I had been more vigilant, I would have torn him apart with my bare hands, but he knew he couldn’t face me in a fair fight.

Now, my body ached to break free. The flames grew fiercer, inching closer with every passing second. I knew the old, decaying warehouse wouldn’t hold for much longer.

But I couldn’t leave her alone with a baby. I couldn’t leave her alone to deal with Barrett.

With a surge of determination, I strained against the restraints. The scent of smoke grew stronger, mingling with the acrid flavor of desperation, and I coughed at the taste.

I had faced countless flames before, extinguishing them one by one. I knew the secrets of fire, its weaknesses, and its patterns. I knew I could use it to help me. The Firefly emerged, not as aharbinger of destruction, but as a guiding light, illuminating a path to survival. I focused on the flickering blaze, its movement becoming a dance of possibilities. I analyzed the structure, searching for weaknesses and envisioning a way out.

Summoning every ounce of strength, I twisted in the chair to look behind me, and that’s when I saw it—one of the wooden support beams had caught fire, the flames slowly eating at it as they struggled to rejoin their counterparts further up.

I could use it.

Planting my boots against the floor, I tested with a steady push, and I snorted when the chair pushed back slightly. Could he really have been that stupid?

Thigh muscles tensed and jumping, I continued to push, slowly forcing the chair across the room. I could hear the crackling flames and the snapping and popping as the wood began to give way. I focused on my breathing, remembering my training as I pushed the chair towards the wooden support beam. Sweat dripped down my forehead and into my eyes, but I ignored it, blinking away the sting, my mind solely focused on the task at hand.

With each push, the chair inched closer to the weakened beam. The flames flickered and danced like a macabre ballet.

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