"What’s going on?” I ask.
"Mrs. De La Rosa," he answers tightly. "She's in the chapel, sir, and the groundskeeper informed me—"
Without waiting to hear the rest of his explanation, I pivot and move in that direction. Adrenaline floods my veins in response to the urgency in Marco's tone. Whatever it is can't be good.
My natural inclination is to suspect the worst. Someone has come for her. Another threat. Another scheme. Another hidden enemy I have been unaware of. My fists clench at my sides as murderous thoughts plow through my mind at lightning speed.
I will kill anyone who even thinks of touching her.
The chapel door screeches open beneath the weight of my palm, my haste pushing me forward with only one thought in mind. I have to get to Ivy. But the moment I see the flickering flames up on the altar, I stop short, my breath seizing in my lungs.
It feels like a hallucination. Another vivid nightmare. Because this can't be real. That can't be my wife up on the altar, burning what I soon realize is a length of fabric. She turns to me, the shadows dancing over her features as an orange glow reflects in her eyes.
A sharp pain lances through my chest, and I stumble forward, grasping at the end of the pews to catch my balance. Smoke suffocates the oxygen, a putrid smell that never leaves my thoughts. My eyes shutter closed as I try to focus on the present, fighting the past that keeps trying to drag me back to hell. When I open them again, I can just make out the faces of my father and brother staring back at me.
"No!" I roar.
I’m back there again. In the midst of the flames, dragging my body through the rubble trying desperately to get to them. Sharp metal scrapes against my torso, forcing an animalistic sound from my throat as I try and fail to push it away. It cuts me deep, and flames lick along my clothing, singeing my skin. The smell of burned hair and flesh nauseate me, but I have to keep going, for them.
Footsteps move past me, echoing across the floor like heavy artillery.
"Get back!" someone yells.
I try to see through the smoke. The flames. The pieces of bodies around me. But I never can. A cough explodes through the air and sweat drips down my neck as a familiar voice calls out to me.
"Take her outside."
Heat seeps into the fibrous tissue of my scars, deepening the ache. The itch. My brother and father aren't here anymore. I can't see them. And when reality yanks me back, it's Ivy standing in front of me, wide-eyed and horrified.
"Take her outside!" Marco yells, shoving her in my direction. "I'll put this out. Go!"
It takes me a moment to find my balance and re-orient. And slowly, the pieces start to fall into place as I dissect one nightmare from another. My fingers curl around Ivy's arm like an iron trap, and she cries out as I drag her from the chapel out into the fresh air.
She yanks away from me, coughing and trying to catch her breath as I blink at her, trying to understand. Chest heaving, venom filling my veins, souring any sweetness there may have been between us. My traitorous fucking wife.
"What did you do?" I growl.
She wipes her face and shakes her head, refusing to answer. Refusing to look at me. She may as well have poured accelerant on my already volatile mood.
"What. Did. You. Do?" I snarl, capturing her around the arms and shaking her.
Her mouth falls open, the picture of horror as she looks up at me like she doesn't recognize me. And I suppose she doesn't. She hasn't met this monster yet. She hasn't known a rage like she's just provoked.
"Answer me!" I roar, my breath whipping strands of hair across her face.
"Let me go!" She hurls her words back at me, shoving against me with all her might.
"Let you go?" I mock her pathetic words. "Let you go? Haven't you figured it out yet? I'm not letting you go until you're fucking dead."
"I hate you!" she screams. "I would rather die than stay here with you."
"That can be arranged," I answer darkly.
Her lip trembles as she looks up at me, eyes shining in the moonlight. "Then do it. Quit threatening me and just do it."
I grab her by the throat and drag her forward, forcing her onto her toes. "Don't tempt me."
Whatever vitriol she has left is choked down by my fingers as I tighten them around her neck. I'm a raging bull, and any softness I may have had for her has abandoned me in the face of this fresh betrayal. When I look at her right now, the only thing I can feel is disgust.
Disgust that I could ever care for a Moreno. That I would ever think she could be loyal. That she wouldn't have taken every opportunity to stab me in the back and exploit me like she's just proven she can.
"You don't deserve the De La Rosa name," I grit out as she fights for her balance, raking her nails over my hands. "You don't deserve my mark. I should cut it out of your skin."
She whimpers and tries again to speak, but her words are suffocated under the weight of my palm. When I finally release her, she's coughing again, but there isn't an ounce of sympathy left for her.
Marco opens the door to the chapel and nods at me. "The fire is out. I'll get someone in here to clean up the mess." He pauses momentarily, his eyes darting to Ivy and narrowing slightly. "But you should know the pictures of your father and brother are ruined."
Ivy sucks in a sharp breath and flinches when I grab her by the hair, hauling her body in front of mine.
"Thank you, Marco."
He turns away, and I
