Page 99 of Undisputed Chaos
Good.
I smirked, steadied by their approval as I watched Isla carefully place a candle into the garbage bag.
Every image she touched was another reminder of hands that weren't mine, lips that had kissed her before I claimed them, a voice that had whispered sweet nothings in her ear before I taught her what real devotion sounded like.
She disappeared into the bathroom, emerging with a toiletry bag that joined the growing pile. Something dark and primitive unfurled in my chest as I realized it probably contained scented products Noah had liked.
The thought of her choosing her fragrance based on another man's preferences made my teeth grind together.
Soon, I’d burn it all. Watch the flames lick away every trace of him until there's nothing left but smoke and memory.
My phone hummed with Isla’s custom text tone:
Isla
What about gifts that I actually like?
My fingers stilled.
Adrian
What did you just ask me, angel?
ALL of it. No exceptions.
I watched her face contort slightly on the monitor, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she nodded again.
She moved to her dresser, pulling out a delicate silver bracelet. She studied it for a moment, probably remembering the occasion, the words that accompanied it, before dropping it into the bag with the rest.
"That's right," I purred, satisfaction threading through the possessive rage. "Nothing of his gets to stay."
Over the next hour, I tracked her progress through her apartment. A book from her shelf. A mug from her kitchen. A framed concert poster from her closet.
Each item went into the bag, each one another victory in my silent war against the ghost of Noah fucking Brown.
All of it will burn. Every fucking piece.
The fantasy was already taking shape in my mind—a huge fire, flames reaching toward the sky like hungry fingers.
I'd make Isla watch as her past turned to ash and smoke, then I'd fuck her in the glow of the dying embers until she forgot Noah had ever existed.
She opened a box, revealing a diamond-shaped pendant. Fucking predictable. No imagination, no understanding of what a woman like Isla truly deserved.
I watched her touch it gently, a flash of nostalgia crossing her features that made me stand abruptly, pacing the length of my living room like a caged animal.
"No," I hissed, sending another text.
Adrian
Everything in the bag.
She startled at the notification, then closed the box and added it to the collection.
The pendant would burn beautifully—silver melting in the flames until it was nothing but a puddle of metal that would cool into an unrecognizable mass.
Just like Noah's memory would become in her mind once I was done with her.
The final item was a photo album, which she flipped through page by page with an expression I didn't like.
