Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 74220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74220 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“You’re sorry? My woman almost fucking drowned, and you’re sorry?” I came at him and punched him so hard in the face I bent his nose in the other direction. More blood poured down his face and seeped into his mouth until he coughed it up. “I will burn you alive as you hang from Notre-Dame, and all of Paris will see you die the death of a traitor.”
They started to drag him away.
“Bastien, please.”
I ignored him and stared at Adrien, my next victim.
“The Aristocrats will have your head for this!”
“Then I’ll burn them next.” I continued to stare at Adrien and listened to them drag Oscar out of his own house and into the car.
I would thoroughly enjoy ending Oscar’s life, but I hated Adrien far more. “If it weren’t for Fleur, you’d be hanging right next to him, charred to a crisp and being pecked by the crows.”
He held my gaze with a lack of confidence, and when the anger in my stare became too much, he looked away.
“You better get on your knees and thank her.”
His ankles were secured to the rope that was tied to the gargoyle statue on the very top of Notre-Dame. We made the climb to the top, no one to stop us from doing whatever the fuck we pleased.
“Bastien, don’t do this. How long have we done business together?”
I ignored him and grabbed him by the back of the shirt.
His hands were bound behind his back, so there was nothing he could do except twist and turn hopelessly.
“Bastien, please don’t do this.”
I threw him over the edge.
He screamed as he fell fifteen feet, face first toward the street.
It was five in the morning, so we only had an hour or two before sunrise. We had to do this now, to make sure the fire would burn bright like the anger in my heart.
“Bastien! My wife. My kids.”
“You’re lucky I won’t do to them what you did to mine.” Luca handed me the canister of gasoline. I twisted off the cap and poured the contents down the rope, watching it seep down until it splashed on his boots then doused the rest of him.
It got in his mouth and nostrils, and he did his best to spit it out, making his body sway slightly. “Bastien, come on. Don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this.”
I pulled out the pack of matches from my pocket then lit one, a little flame at the tip.
Oscar had to crane his neck to look up at me. “No. Bastien, no. Come on, I’ll do anything.”
I dropped the match on the top of the rope, and instantly, the flames broke out and sped down the fibers toward Oscar. The blaze was ravenous for fuel, charring the rope. The second the fire hit his boots, he screamed, and then the fire engulfed the rest of him.
His earsplitting screams reached all of Paris, begging for it to end even though there was no going back now. He burned alive as he hung from Notre-Dame, a fire in the City of Light, a bonfire of treason and betrayal.
I stared down at him and watched him scream as he burned, felt the rage in my heart burn brighter as I watched him suffer, knowing my girl had suffered the same way when she’d run out of air and inhaled the water into her lungs. I felt nothing as I watched the flesh char over his bones, felt nothing as I started a war with the Aristocrats, my former allies.
I’d declare war on this entire fucking city for her.
He finally went quiet, his body still on fire and slightly swaying.
Luca came to my side and stared down at his body. “The rest of them will come for us.”
“I don’t care.”
His hand moved to my shoulder, comforting me like I’d lost Fleur…because there was still a chance I might. I might have saved her, but I didn’t save her soon enough, and whatever we had might not be enough reason for her to stay.
I wouldn’t blame her if she wanted to leave.
I wouldn’t stop her if she walked out the door.
I’d let her go.