Chapter 14
Emily
I bolt upright in the bed to the sound of frantic pounding on the door. At first, I’m confused about what’s going on and then I hear voices.
Onyx is up before I can even understand what’s going on. His weight rolls off the mattress, and he stumbles to the door. His voice is already saying something I can’t make out as he yanks open the door.
“Emily’s cabin is on fire!” a voice says breathlessly. Jinx shoulders his way through the small group and reports, “We don’t know why or how, but the roof caught on fire. We’re doin’ our best to put it out, but you might want to come and have a look yourself.”
Meanwhile, my stomach churns. I throw the sheet off and find the floor with my feet, still catching up to what I just heard. I take three steps before I realize that I’m buck naked. But thankfully, Onyx has already closed the door.
My voice breaks because I’m getting emotional. “My cabin’s on fire?”
“Get dressed,” Onyx says. He’s already pulling jeans on. “Come on. We need to see what’s going on ourselves.”
I reach down and my fingers fumble with the first thing I grab. I get my jeans and T-shirt on and discover that my boots aren’t where I left them. Onyx crosses to the other side of the room, throws my jacket to me. I put it on and find my boots under the edge of the bed and stuff my feet into them.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he reassures me. Unfortunately, his jaw’s tight and he won’t meet my eyes, so I think he’s just saying that to make me feel better.
We sprint downstairs and out the front door. I hop onto the bike and we take off. The engine vibrates up my legs and spine. I cling to him as he does his best to get us to my cabin.
The smoke hits me before the firelight does.
It crawls into my nose. The closer we get, the stronger the scent is.
And unless I miss my guess, there is a chemical smell mixed in with the scent of burning wood.
The logical side of my brain tells me that smell could be a sign of arson.
I don’t want to think it’s true, but I can’t shake the fact that the chemical smell is very clearly there.
Then I catch the warm orange glow flickering up through the tree canopy. My breath catches and I can hardly breathe. I don’t even realize the bike is slowing until the tires crunch hard over gravel and he skids to a stop at the edge of the clearing.
Flames are climbing along one side of the cabin, and the roof is on fire.
The air is thick with black smoke. I realize it’s because the shingles on my roof are burning.
Shouts cut through the roar, men calling to each other, hoses snaking from the side of my cabin.
They’re using my water hose to fight the fire.
Multiple brothers are hauling buckets of water from somewhere nearby and throwing them onto the side of the cabin that’s burning.
I see Jasper and Slate dousing the roof with what looks like the contents of a cooler.
Two prospects are dragging brush away from the edge of the house with their bare hands.
The brothers are doing everything humanly possible to contain the blaze and remove anything that could feed the flames.
Unfortunately, the fire is stubborn and doesn’t respect their efforts.
I jump off Onyx’s bike and make a run for my cabin. Before I make it three steps, Onyx grabs my arm. “Don’t get too close.”
Before he can get the words out, I’m already pulling away from him. My eyes are locked on the cabin, on the pale side wall where the flames lick upward towards the eaves.
“My stuff’s in there,” I say, though I don’t know if it’s out loud. The words sound distant. Useless. “Everything’s in there. If my cabin burns down, I’ve got nothing.”
“It won’t burn down,” Onyx says behind me, low and firm. “We’ll stop it.”
The cabin makes loud crackling sounds as the flames become more aggressive. A few of the guys shout and duck as a burning piece falls off the side of the cabin.
My hands are shaking and my heart is beating wildly in my chest. All I can think about is what might already be gone, and what I might still be able to save if I just move fast enough.
I take off running for the front porch. I hear Onyx shouting behind me, but the sound barely registers. I’m already at the front steps, already pulling my arm across my face to shield myself from the rising ash as I shove the door open.
Onyx is right behind me, shouting at me to come back out. I don’t listen though because I just need to do a quick in and out. He tries to drag me away, but I pull my arm from his grip. Most of the fire is on the outside of the building. I should have enough time to grab my shit and leave.
The smoke inside curls around me, reminding me that smoke rises to the top. I drop down onto my knees and crawl forward. The air inside is suffocating. I cough hard, try to breathe shallowly through the sleeve of my shirt, pressing forward into what’s left of my home.
The living room has dust flying all around and some smoke as well.
But more importantly, the cabin is trashed.
Shelves have been knocked over. Books are scattered all over the floor, my glasses have all been smashed against the wall, and my furniture has been slashed.
There is the fire, and then there is whatever this is.
I don’t know what to make of it at first. Picture frames that were once on the wall are all broken and scattered around on the floor.
Onyx stops beside me, and I hear him say one word. “Brennan.”
That’s when I see what he sees and stop dead in my tracks.
Thick red letters have been spray-painted across the wall.
The lines are uneven, raw, and cover the better part of the wall.
Whoever did this wanted me to know it was him.
It’s the word snitch. That’s all. It takes a second for my brain to stop pretending it isn’t what I think it is.
My stomach twists with anxiety as I hear the fire trucks arrive. Suddenly, everything is wet, seemingly all at once. Within minutes, I’m not worried about the flames because they’re all gone. Now, I have to worry about not slipping because everything in the entire cabin is wet.
I press a hand to the wall for balance and move through the wreckage into the bedroom.
The smoke is lighter here, but it clings to everything.
My fingers close around the fireproof lockbox from under the bed.
It’s where I store everything precious to me—photos, legal docs, tax paperwork, and other items too numerous to name.
I even keep my mom’s old chain with the tiny locket she wore until the day she died. I hand it off to Onyx and just nod.
I turn to gather more stuff, but Onyx’s hand lands on my shoulder. “You can’t stay in here,” he says. His voice is steady, but his face is tight.
“I’m almost done,” I say, but my hands are still shaking, and it’s clear to both of us I’m not thinking straight.
Onyx’s free hand finds mine, and this time when he pulls, I go.
I don’t want to. Every step I take out of the bedroom feels like I’m leaving behind something I can’t replace. But I go because I have no choice.
The word is still there on the wall when we pass it. I don’t look at it again.
Outside, the cold air hits my lungs too fast. I stumble, drop to a crouch in the dirt, coughing smoke until my eyes water.
Onyx doesn’t say anything. He stands over me, steady, holding the bag like it weighs nothing.
I look back towards the cabin and realize this was never about the fire. It was about the message left in its ashes. Onyx is right about it being Brennan. Who else could it be with a message like that?
Hours later, when the fire trucks leave, the fire’s down to steam and smoke. What’s left is a damp, muddy mess. And this is the story of how I lost everything in the blink of an eye.
Onyx and I walk around outside my cabin trying to survey the damage.
Mud sucks at my boots as I move through what’s left of the yard, making every step seem like a herculean effort.
Black streaks run down the siding on the porch.
The roof’s collapsed over the living room.
The bedroom’s half-exposed, open to the sky.
Water drips from every corner. I doubt it’s salvageable.
The brothers hang back. Some are still working, clearing debris from around the house, keeping watch on the embers. Others are just standing near their bikes, talking in low voices. No one says much to me. I hesitate to wonder how many of them saw what was written on the wall.
Jasper’s at the edge of the driveway with his phone pressed to his ear. He’s talking low and gesturing with his free hand towards my cabin. He meets my eyes once and gives me a quick chin jerk by way of acknowledgement.
Onyx stays close, but he doesn’t speak either. He hasn’t said much since he pulled me out. Just helped where he could. I’m glad he had the presence of mind to make me leave; otherwise, I might have been hit with falling debris when the ceiling collapsed.
***
Detective Morgan pulls up twenty minutes later in an unmarked cruiser with his lights off. His expression doesn’t change much as he steps out and takes in the damage, but his mouth flattens when he sees the word still drying in red.
Jasper walks over to meet him. They talk for a minute, their heads tilted in.
Those two seem thick as thieves for a detective and the president of a motorcycle club.
They have the kind of easy familiarity that comes from being involved in too many situations where they had to pick up the pieces.
Eventually, Morgan glances towards me and walks over.
“Are you alright?” he asks grimly. His eyes are already scanning the wreckage behind me.
“No,” I say, because I don’t have the energy to pretend otherwise. “That was my home.”
“I know,” he says. “Were you still living out here?”
“She’s staying at the clubhouse,” Onyx says, stepping forward. “Good thing, too.”
Morgan glances at him, then back at me. “You tell anyone you were there?”
I shake my head. “No one knows but the club.”
He doesn’t write anything down. Just squints towards the scorched roofline, jaw flexing.
“Looks like someone used an accelerant. The message inside confirms this is arson.”
He continues, “We’ve been keeping an eye on Brennan since the break-in charges were added, but we had to call off the watch when he was taken off house arrest. I’m guessing this was his way of letting you know he didn’t appreciate you talking to us.”
My stomach twists. I look away before I can give anything else away. “I told the truth. I told the police what happened. But that gave him a reason to do this, and now the place my grandfather built with his own hands is a pile of wet rubble.”
Morgan glances towards the road like he’s already half gone. “We’ll pull footage from the highway cams. See if we can see his vehicle. Doubt he was smart enough to cover his tracks.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Onyx asks. “You gonna arrest him, or just keep watchin’ him until he manages to kill her?” Although he doesn’t raise his voice, there’s a sharpness in it.
Morgan doesn’t flinch. “We’ll do what we can. This helps us, but not enough yet.”
He nods once at me, then turns and heads back to his car. The brothers part for him without a word. Jasper watches him go, then lights a cigarette and says something to one of the prospects I can’t hear.
I turn to Onyx, remembering what he told me about the club having eyes on Brennan’s house. “Are you still watching his property?”
He shakes his head sadly. “No. Now you’re stayin’ the clubhouse we called it off. Damn it!”
The cold finally settles into my bones. I’m still standing in wet jeans.
My jacket’s soaked through as well. I didn’t notice until now.
I sink onto the edge of a stone step that’s somehow still solid.
Onyx crouches next to me without saying anything.
He’s quiet, like he’s plotting some kind of revenge that he’s not comfortable talking about yet.
I’d be lying if I said that didn’t worry me.
Looking at the blackened doorway, the red streak on the wall behind the busted frame, I think about the first time my grandfather let me paint the front door myself. The color was too bright, and it clashed with everything, but he didn’t care.
There’s no fixing this. Even if the bones are still standing, the damage runs too deep. It’s all soaked through, charred, and unrecognizable.
Jasper’s talking with a few of them. Someone’s brought another pot of coffee from the clubhouse. It all happens just far enough away that I can’t hear what they’re saying.
I sit on a stump with the box I rescued on my knee. I turn the latch and open the lid. Everything I packed is still there, more or less. I’m thankful to at least have my birth certificate and other important documents.
Onyx squats down across from me, going through the rest of what we managed to grab before he dragged me out.
My journal, some clothing, a tin box filled with all my tiny childhood toys that I vowed to keep forever, and a couple of framed photographs from the mantel.
He just looks at each thing in turn, folds the wet clothing for me, and doesn’t say a thing.
Having him close is making this whole situation bearable.
I reach for the photo. It’s of me and my grandfather. His arm is around my shoulder. The glass is smashed and the photograph wet from the attempts to put out the fire. My hand shakes as I set it aside to dry.
“I don’t think I can fix this,” I say quietly.
“I know,” he says. “And I’m sorry things had to be this way. I would’ve done anything to keep this from happening. We should have kept watch on that asshole.”
I look at the photo again. It’s starting to wrinkle as it dries. The edges are softening, and there’s a small burn mark near the top corner.
“Did you know my grandfather built this cabin with his own two hands?”
“Yeah, I did know that. My old man helped him build it back in the day. He said the two of them fought like cats and dogs about how to lay the foundation.”
I give him a tired smile. “My grandfather never told me those stories. But I was his only heir. That means the only thing of value he had to bequeath, he gave to me. This place, this land, this house was mine. And now it’s gone. What’s left fits in a bag.”
“I know what this place meant,” Onyx says quietly. “If you want me to build it back, I will, Em. We can make it look just the way it used to in honor of your grandfather.”
There is something so bittersweet about his offer. It makes me want to cry, rejoice, and maybe even consider it one day. But mostly, it makes me want to hug the guy who made the offer. So, I throw my arms around his neck and don’t let go for a nice long time.