Page 17 of Burn it Down

He laughs. "This how your weird brother taught you to play hard to get?"

"He’s not my brother and he’s not weird," I snap at him. I’m going to enjoy watching him die. Riven won’t be kind, and I’m thankful for that because this lunatic wouldn’t have given me an ounce of empathy had we made it to a marriage bed.

"There’s rumors going around that he’s back in town. Do you know anything about that? Your father and I are going to decide what to do with him. If you don’t fight me now, maybe I won’t make you watch him die."

I freeze for half a second. That’s all he needs to try and close the gap between us. Matthew reaches for my arm, but I’m too quick and spin just out of his grasp. I sprint around the back of his truck, but he’s not deterred.

“Goddamn, you run like you want me to catch you,” he pants.

I whip around the passenger side and yank the door open. I dive in, slam the button that locks everything down.

Click.It’s honestly the best sound I’ve heard in a long time.

He bangs on the window. “Open up. I swear to God, Lakynnn. You’re gonna regret this little game. When I fucking get my hands on you, I’m going to make you beg me. You’re going to scream.”

I cup my hand up at my ear and squint my eyes as if to say I can’t hear him. “Speak up.”

“I’m not playing this fucking game with you,” he snarls. “Let me in so I can fuck the fight out of you. You’re lucky I even agreed to take you. You’re such a fucking frigid bitch and everyone knows it.”

I lower the window half an inch, because he most definitely is going to play this game with me. I smile, cruel and quiet, and that seems to confuse him.

“Games are fun,” I say. “I’m just waiting.”

He blinks. “Waiting for what?”

I look in the rearview mirror.

Headlights. Fast. Furious.

“You’re the one who summoned the devil. Don’t look at me for help,” I say, laughing because his attitude is changing really quickly and that’s pretty fucking funny if you ask me.

Panic distorts his features and he doesn’t respond to anything I’ve said, but my parting words to him are, “I’m pretty sure you’re going to be the one who screams.”

He bolts.

The truck behind us skids to a stop in a storm of gravel.

The driver’s door swings open with nothing less than absolute fury.

Riven doesn’t speak.

He runs.

And I watch.

Matthew barely makes it to the tree line before Riven takes him down with a thud. A grunt. A crack. A scream that I feel like was meant for me to hear.

I stumble out of the car, moving toward the sound.

Riven doesn’t stop when he hears me approaching, but I know he does because of the way his back stiffens. His fists crash into Matthew’s face over and over, teeth cracking, blood spraying. Matthew wheezes, his arms flailing weakly, but Riven doesn’t seem to give any semblance of a fuck. He’s silent. Focused. Each punch lands with a dull, sickening thud.

I watch as Riven grabs Matthew by the collar, lifts him slightly off the ground, and slams him back down with enough force that I think he must have killed him. The sound Matthew makes doesn’t even resemble a scream anymore, it’s just a wet, broken gurgle.

My stomach flips, but not for the reasons it should. I want him gone. I want to forget the things he threatened me with. It’s as if Riven knows because I don’t think he’s just trying to hurt him. He’s trying to erase him.

Riven’s knuckles split. Blood splatters across the grass and Matthew goes limp. It’s still not enough because Riven’s knee drives into his gut. One more punch. Then another. Then a kick to the ribs that makes something snap.

Still, he doesn’t stop.

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