Heart of Thorns (Shadow Valley U Book 2)
Heart of Thorns: Chapter 39

I am bored out of my mind. I’ve been following Ben for most of the day, and he’s kind of an uninteresting guy. He was in his apartment for a while, then went grocery shopping. Came back, then met up with some guys for dinner.

Now, I follow him toward the outskirts of Shadow Valley. If we continue on this road, we’d eventually end up in Crown Point. Not that it matters—Rhys is with Briar, and as long as I have eyes on Ben, he can’t hurt her.

Like any good tailing cop—my lessons learned from watching crime drama, mainly force-fed by Rhys in preparation for this very moment—I stay at least a block behind Ben’s car. His headlights glow, and he’s a good little driver. He doesn’t speed much, he uses his blinker.

It makes it almost too easy.

We end up winding our way back to the stadium, and I groan. If he took a roundabout way just to go to the weight room…

But, no. He parks across the street from an old, run-down building. I kill my headlights and stop, too, still a good distance away. The building is vaguely familiar. I think it was a business a few years ago.

A boxing gym, maybe?

But it’s empty…

Wait. It’s empty. That’s the point.

I lean forward, squinting through the darkness. Ben parked just before the streetlight, and it silhouettes him as he gets out of the car and jogs across the street. He pauses at the front door, then yanks open the doors and enters.

Holy shit. It’s happening. I grab my phone and dial 9-1-1, my finger hovering over the green call button. As soon as I see signs of flames or smoke, I’ll dial. He’ll be caught red-handed.

A giddiness overtakes me, and I can’t stop my wide smile.

He’s a fucking idiot, and he’s gonna go to prison for this.

A car turns onto the street farther down, coming toward me. It pulls in behind Ben’s car, though, and a second later, someone gets out. The guy has broad shoulders, but the rest of his figure is obscured in an oversized coat. He hurries across the street and fiddles with the door, then steps away. He goes around, disappearing down a side alley.

That’s weird.

I watch for a long moment with my brows furrowed. The not knowing what’s going on is kind of killing me.

What am I supposed to do? Call the cops and say… someone broke into an abandoned building and then another guy joined him?

Yeah, right.

I shut off my car and close the door quietly. Not that anyone would notice a slamming door. Maybe. Either way, I use my stealth skills and stick to the shadows, crossing the street and approaching the weathered building. There’s an empty parking lot on one side, and an alley separating it from another building.

Since the alley is closest to me, I pause at the opening and scan for movement.

Nothing.

I go down and pause under a window. It’s partially boarded up, but I can reach it by climbing onto the dumpster. The metal bows—and makes a rather loud noise—under my weight, but it holds long enough for me to peek inside.

It is an old boxing gym. The lights are on. The raised ring in the center is missing a few ropes, and it seems like time just stopped for the place.

In the ring, though, is Ben.

I put my hands on the pane, my eyes wide. He lies on his side, curled slightly into himself, and I wait, but he doesn’t so much as twitch.

There’s no sign of the other person.

Helping Ben Patterson wasn’t on my agenda, but I can’t just walk away. It could’ve been a mugging gone bad, a crime of opportunity…

Either way, leaving him feels wrong.

I hop down from the dumpster and start for the front door, but movement flashes out of the corner of my eye.

Then blinding pain ricochets through my head—and darkness descends.

“You with us, Thorne?”

Something sharp stings my cheek. Then the other one.

I force my eyes open, my head lifting.

Stephen crouches in front of me. His gaze burns. “There you are. Thought you were going to sleep forever.”

My mouth is dry. I try to rub my face, but my arms are stuck.

Stephen tsks, but he doesn’t say anything else. He just watches me figure out that I’m tied to one of the corner posts of the ring. Rope chafes against my wrists, locked around the post behind my back. My legs are stretched out in front of me, my ankles also wrapped with rope.

Beyond Stephen, Ben’s legs are visible.

“What’s going on?” I force out.

Stephen chuckles. “What’s going on, Thorne, is that you interrupted my plan. You already suspected Ben of setting that fire, didn’t you? I was just going to make it easier to accept. And, perhaps, even ease your girl’s conscience. Ben would no longer be around to make things difficult for her.”

I yank my arms, but the ropes hold fast. The effort sends a wave of pain through my skull. He hit me. Knocked me out. Now, though, I feel it.

“You were going to make it easier to accept, how?”

Stephen rises and spreads his arm. “Look at this place. It’s the perfect building. It would just be poor Ben’s inexperience with setting fires that trapped him in one he set.”

A chill sweeps down my spine.

“Is that fear?” He suddenly comes right back to me, kneeling at my side and grabbing my hair. He yanks my head back. “I know why. You see the end of this, don’t you?”

I swallow hard. “You wouldn’t tell me all of this if I was going to walk out of here.”

His laugh echoes in my brain. He’s not sad about it—not turned off in the slightest at the idea of killing another person. One was already in the cards, what’s one more?

My stomach twists. Fear takes hold, just like he already saw in my expression, and coldness radiates through me.

I’m going to die here.

My mouth waters like it does before I puke—which generally happens on conditioning days at practice—and Stephen barely has time to get out of the way before I lean over and throw up on his shoes.

“Fucking asshole.” Stephen paces away from me, then comes back on the other side.

He kicks my thigh. Pain, then numbness, sweeps down my leg, deadening it for a moment. Then two.

He shakes his head and hops over the remaining low rope, jumping to the floor. I track him across the gym, to the red gas canisters against the wall.

“An easy accelerant,” he explains. “Ben bought these for me over the past few weeks. My car’s been in the shop, and he didn’t mind running over to get the fuel for my dirt bike. Didn’t even question it.”

“But the police will find record of it.” I spit out the bitter taste on my tongue. “You’re going to set the fire and leave?”

“And watch it burn,” he finishes. “Just like I watched that old building burn months ago. I’m sorry to have missed Briar’s fall. I’m sure it was quite spectacular.”

“You’re not going to get away with this.” I struggle harder. My attention swings to Ben. “Ben! Wake up.”

He’s not tied, but he is bleeding from his temple. His form is limp.

“Stephen,” I call. “You don’t have to do this.”

“No?” He laughs.

The sound scrapes in my brain, and my vision swims. My stomach rolls again, but this time due to the smell of gasoline. He splashes the canister against the base of the ring, and I gag. I glance down. My phone was in my pocket. 9-1-1 was already dialed, ready to be called…

I shift to the side and try to reach my back pocket with my tied hands. The angle is awkward, but my thumb brushes my jeans.

“If you’re searching for your phone, I left it outside. So someone knows how to identify your cremated corpse.” Stephen pauses on the opposite side of the ring, seeming to consider. “Well, your bones. I don’t think this fire will burn hot enough to completely destroy you.”

He continues what he was doing, humming as he creates a trail of gasoline to the front doors, then along the wall. He doesn’t say anything else to me, and I struggle with the ropes. I twist my wrists, but my vision goes spotty again.

I cannot fucking die in here.

“Stephen, you can’t do this.” I shift, my mind whirling. “You’re not going to get away with this.”

He throws the canister and picks up another, stalking over to me. “That’s the thing, Thorne. Fire is cleansing. It’s all power. One tiny spark will catch, and this whole place will go up like a tinderbox.”

“I don’t—” My voice breaks. “Please don’t.”

He sighs. “That’s the thing about fire. It doesn’t pick and choose.”

“You are⁠—”

“When I was twelve, my childhood home caught fire. I was outside playing in the yard with my dog and little sister, and we didn’t notice until the upstairs windows broke. The smoke that poured out was thick and gray, and it was beautiful. I’d never seen anything like it.” He tilts his head. “Then the flames came through. It was a private show just for me.”

I stare at him.

“My parents made it out just fine. But the house itself? By the time the fire department left, there was almost nothing left of it. Just the bones.” He pats his chest. “No organs, no blood, no life. Nothing salvageable.”

“That’s horrific.”

“It was beautiful.” He shakes his head. “We’ve lost the meaning of awesome. It means to be full of awe. And I was that day. For years, I’ve wanted to feel that again, and the only time I manage it is when I recreate it.”

He’s insane.

“You lost your house as a twelve-year-old and you enjoyed it.” I raise my eyebrows. “Then burn the building, Stephen. But don’t kill us.”

“You don’t get it.” He hops the ropes and gets in my face. Gasoline sloshes out of the canister, soaking my pant leg. “You walk out of here, and I’ll never be allowed to touch a fucking matchbox again.”

To be fair, he shouldn’t even be allowed near a gas stove.

“No.” He rises. “This is the only way.”

He checks on Ben, pausing with his hand on his best friend’s shoulder. When Ben still doesn’t wake, he moves away. Out of the ring, toward the back door.

“Enjoy the view, Thorne,” he calls over his shoulder. “You’ve got a front-row seat to the greatest show on earth.”

I twist around to keep my gaze on him.

He sets down the final canister by a door and lights a match. It’s such a tiny little flame, but the minute he tosses it, the gasoline catches. It spreads fast, racing across the old, worn hardwood floors. It chases the path he set, wrapping around the ring, and too fast to even comprehend, the heat of the flames lick at my skin.

I face forward again, struggling hard. It’s no use. The knots only seem to tighten.

Ben lies unresponsive.

We’re going to die.

And I never told Briar that I love her.