Page 98 of The Reckoning
The certainty in his tone should be frightening but is somehow comforting instead. Black and white in a world that’s been nothing but shades of gray for as long as I can remember. His conviction is like an anchor in a storm.
“She did, and Richard too.” Hector says, stepping up. “We need to talk, Lilian. About the family, about the money your father left you, and many other things. I’ll be in touch. For now, I’ll let you all heal. I got what I wanted.”
I can’t argue with Arson or Hector. In fact, I can’t find it in myself to disagree. It doesn’t matter what I have to say or think because the grief is there anyway, tangled up with relief and horror and guilt.She raised me.She was the only mother I knew.
And I just watched her burn to death. The knowledge settles in my chest like a physical weight, heavy and immovable. The three of us huddle together as the firefighters arrive, their trucks screeching to a halt, hoses unwinding. They shout orders to each other, their voices carrying across the lawn. Students have gathered now, drawn by the commotion, a ring of shocked faces watching as the Mill House burns. Lee, Drew, and Sebastianhover at the edge of our group, witnesses to something they can’t possibly understand.
The paramedics and police arrive next, immediately zeroing in on Aries’s injuries. They try to separate us, to get him onto a stretcher, but he refuses to let go of me. Drew draws the cops away easily with his good ol boy charm.
“We stay together,” Aries says firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “Treat me here.”
We all sit on the grass, watching as the firefighters battle the blaze. It’s a losing fight—the Mill House is old, the wood dry, the fire too established. All they can do is try to keep it from spreading to the grounds.
“It will be okay,” Arson whispers against my temple, his lips surprisingly gentle. “It will all be okay.”
I want to believe him. Want to trust that there’s a way forward after all of this. The nightmare is over—my mother, Patricia, Hayes Enterprises, the lies and manipulation—all of it consumed in the cleansing fire.
How do we move forward? How do we build something new from these ashes?
I look at Aries, at the determination in his eyes despite the pain he must be feeling. At Arson, his expression is thoughtful as he watches the firefighters work. These two men, identical in appearance but so different in temperament, both damaged by what they’ve endured, both survivors in their own way. Maybe that’s how we get through this. Together. All three of us, broken but not destroyed, carrying each other through whatever comes next. The grief, the aftermath, the rebuilding.
I don’t know if it’s possible. Don’t know if the scars we all carry will ever truly heal. The weight of everything that’s happened sits heavy on my chest, making it hard to breathe.
My mother is dead. Burned alive before my eyes. The woman who raised me, who tucked me in at night, who taught me toread and tie my shoes and navigate social situations—gone, in the most horrific way imaginable.
And part of me is relieved. What kind of person does that make me?
But as Arson’s arms tighten around me, as Aries’s hand finds mine in the grass, I feel something unfamiliar bloom in my chest.
Hope.
Small and fragile, but there. A tiny flame, different from the inferno consuming the Mill House. Something that can warm without destroying. Something that can light our way forward.
The morning sun shines brightly overhead, casting harsh light across the campus lawn. Students gather at a distance, watching in horrified fascination as the Mill House burns. None of them understand what they’re really seeing—not just a building on fire, but the end of one story and the beginning of another.
Our story.
Whatever comes next, we’ll face it together. Me, Arson, Aries. Three broken pieces that somehow fit together to make something whole. Something stronger than we could ever be apart.
“I love you,” I whisper, not even sure which one of them I’m speaking to. Both, maybe. All of us.
Arson’s lips press against my forehead. “We know,” he says simply. “We love you, too.”
For now, at this moment, with the past literally going up in flames behind us, that’s enough.It has to be.
TWENTY-EIGHT
ARIES
The text comes at noon, just as I’m trying to force down hotel room service coffee that tastes like burnt paper. My hands still shake sometimes, an aftereffect of everything that happened. The message is simple:Mill House lawn, sunset, black tie. —Drew
I stare at my phone, confused. The others must have gotten the same message because my phone buzzes with confused texts from Lee and Sebastian. None of us knows what to make of it.
Twenty minutes later, there’s a knock on our door. Lilian opens it to find a hotel employee with garment bags draped over his arm—three of them, each with our names written in careful script. Inside mine is a perfectly fitted tuxedo, black on black, expensive enough that I recognize the tailoring even before I check the label.
“What the hell is this about?” Arson mutters, holding up his identical tux. His voice carries that edge it gets when he’s trying not to show he’s unsettled.
Lilian fingers the fabric of her black gown, elegant and simple, with a neckline that won’t hide her scar. She’s been wearing it like armor lately, that mark on her chest—a reminder of everything we’ve survived.
