The Accidental Marriage: Chapter 43

The instant the match hits the gasoline-soaked kindling, a circle of fire goes up around me. Black smoke billows upward, choking me. I cough, shaking my head. The acrid fumes rub against my throat and lungs like sandpaper. The air in my chest grows thinner.

I’m going to suffocate before the fire burns me alive.

I need to get down as low as possible. I swing my weight left and right. The legs on my chair wobble. The nail on the back pokes at my shoulder blade, scratching it with every sway. I grit my teeth. I’m going to survive this, and then murder Rupert. It’ll be justifiable homicide. Self-defense.

The chair tips over. I crash onto my left shoulder. The impact knocks the breath out of me and I lie there, dazed. The smoke isn’t as thick on the ground, but the air is still too hot, too dry and too thin. Not only that, the fire is spreading. Unless I can free myself, I’m not making it out of here alive. The nail digs deeper into my flesh too. Warm liquid trickles down my back, where my scar is. A vague and completely irrelevant thought pops into my head: Now it’s going to look even more hideous. I push it aside and focus on what’s important.

If only my arms weren’t tied…!

Sweat beads on my hairline from the heat. My lungs are starved for air, but there isn’t much, just smoke. My vision blurs as my mind goes somewhere between reality and a dream. I gaze at a spot beyond the fire—at something hazy and illusory. I stare at it like a ghost observing a scene.

A child is tied to a chair—who is it? No clue to indicate his identity. At least his arms are free. The front of his shirt is wet and smells like sweat, yeast and artificial vanilla that’s so cheap it feels off.

Unlike me, he doesn’t resist or try to escape. But then, he’s just a kid. His chest moves shallowly, but if he stays like this, he’s not going to make it. A small blonde girl appears and shakes him. “Wake up! We gotta go!” the girl says.

The fire burns brighter. The light from it obscures the moon. She manages to free him, but he isn’t walking well. Is he injured?

My head throbs. I squeeze my eyes shut, breathing shallowly to avoid inhaling the acrid air too deeply. My body doesn’t feel right—like I’m weightless and slowly spinning in the air like an astronaut in space.

Somehow the girl is gone and I’m rescuing the boy now, so short the smoke isn’t in my face. But I don’t relax. Anything could happen. A giant wolf jumps from the wall, above the door. It tries to attack the boy, but I push him out of the way. The beast takes a bite of my back.

Pain blooms. Air clogs in my throat. Tears spring to my eyes, but I pretend to be brave.

The boy and I are out of the shed, but it’s no good. The entire place is surrounded by fire. I blink. I try to lick my parched lips, but my tongue’s too dry to make a difference. The boy has vanished. Where did he go?

I thought there might be a lake where I could lie down and rest, but no. Tears trickle from my eyes and bitter regrets weigh upon my heart until I want to just drop to the ground. If I’d known my life would end like this, I would’ve waited until I had the celebratory dinner with Ares. Or at least I would’ve told him, “I love you,” face to face, so that my last words to him weren’t “Let’s get divorced.”

Somewhere in the dancing flames, Ares lunges forward, coming through the fire like a wolf. His blue eyes are fierce as he crouches over me. He touches me, trying to support my body and right me, then stops. He raises a blood-soaked hand. His handsome face crumbles, twisted into something sad, furious and terrifying. He cries out something, but my hearing is too muffled to understand.

I don’t want him to worry. It probably looks much worse than it really is. I try to reassure him by smiling. But my smile must be awful, because his expression only grows more appalled.

Strength oozes away, bit by bit. My body relaxes, and I blink up at him. I’m glad the last thing I see is Ares before my vision turns dark.