“Why does this fall to you?”

Gareth walks behind me and shoves something aside. I hear the whip of a sheet being pulled off a bed but I don’t remember a bed being in the room when I was tossed inside before. Gareth returns, carrying a red gasoline can, the fluid sloshing around inside.

He’s planning on a redo of the last situation.

“Because I’m the one who fucked this up the first time,” he says, tilting the can and splashing clear fluid all over the floor around me. He walks around the room, dumping gasoline on the sleek wooden floors.

“I thought I meant something to you. Was it all a lie? A ruse just to get me killed?”

He stops what he’s doing to think on my words, and I’m thrilled at the little minute I’ve bought myself. Maybe this is a card I can play. Maybe I can use his feelings for me to be set free after all.

“It wasn’t a ruse. I did love you, Scarlett. Just not enough.”

He starts walking again, the liquid splashing around the room.

“Not enough as what?”

“Not enough as my family.”

He finishes dumping the gasoline on the floor and comes back to stand in front of me. I stare up at him in disbelief.

“I can’t fathom it. Your brother treats you like shit, Gareth. I’ve only heard two conversations between you two, and during both of them he’s belittled and degraded you. That’s not how family treats one another.”

“Oh, because you’re such the expert? Tell me, how long has it been since you’ve spoken to your own family? Would you say, four, five weeks?”

I don’t remember enough to know whether or not that’s true but I have a suspicion that he was keeping track. It doesn’t sit well.

“You know I’m not close with them,” I hedge.

His lips twitch into the smallest smirk. “Scarlett, don’t insult my intelligence. I know you stopped talking to your family to keep them safe from me. It was probably a wise decision. They don’t know anything or have any connections. It would look suspicious if we went after them, too, when we don’t have to.”

I don’t remember making that decision but I’m glad I did. I don’t want to give away to him just how much I don’t remember. Maybe he’ll still think that I have some memories from the past few months, even though I told him otherwise. My mind isn’t thinking clearly, and I’m grasping at straws. The sharp smell of gasoline makes me dizzy, burning my nostrils.

“That’s great. I’m glad I did that, too. Now why don’t you think about your own parents and how sad they would be if you were burned alive and not do the same to me?”

I’ve hit a nerve. His shoulders tense up, and he leans down, pressing his palms on either side of my chair as he looks right into my wide, frightened eyes. “My parents never gave a shit about me when they were alive, and they sure as shit don’t care about me now that they’re dead. You may think that Richie is an asshole, and he can be, but he’s my brother. I owe him my life.”

“Why? When did he save you?”

“He saved me when my parents died. He raised me like his own. I’m strong because of him.”

“Really? Because based on what I heard, you’re pretty fucking weak.”

He lifts a hand and I prepare for his blow but he stops himself, his eyes narrowing as he peers down at me. The scent of his aftershave mingles with the gas, and I want to gag.

“I don’t care what my brother says in front of the men. I know he puts me first, just like I do for him. It’s why I took this job, in spite of the risk of being surrounded by a bunch of nosy fucking journalists. It was the best place to get the information we needed, to delve beyond stealing from individuals and straight into government files. With access to every single social security number, we’d be living pretty for the rest of our lives. It would have been the biggest data breach in history.”

He gazes out at he talks, his expression dreamy, like he’s lost in a beautiful daydream where he destroys millions of lives just to get fat cat rich.

“Are you that greedy?” I ask, looking up at him.

His attention returns to me, and he shakes his head. “Money is easy. Money we can get with the click of a mouse, within seconds. The more we get, the greater our power. You want to see what the President of the United States does when we bring him to his knees? That man is a figurehead compared to us. We run the show, we make them bend to our will. We are the ones in power. We can find anyone, terrorize anyone.”

His voice is terse as he speaks. Christ, he believes this bullshit. I wish I had time to puzzle it all out but he steps back and lifts the gasoline can back up. This time, he showers me with it. I close my eyes as the cool liquid pours over my head, drenching me. He doesn’t miss an inch, spreading it all over my clothing, down to my shoes. I keep my eyes closed, unable to wipe the gas out of them with my bound hands. Finally, I blink them open, and my eyes sting.

“Here, allow me,” Gareth says, running his sleeve along my eyes to dry them.

“Gee, thanks. I’d hate for chivalry to be dead right before I’m burned alive.”

Gareth’s face falls at this comment. “I didn’t want to have to be the one to do this,” he says again.

Richie steps into the doorway, his expression hard and annoyed. “Are you seriously still doing this? I wanted her prepped and aflame before we’re gone, Gareth. Can you fucking do anything right?”

“I do everything right!” Gareth complains, and the little brother in him is plain, the tiny boy just wanting approval from a family that will never give it to him.

How the hell am I supposed to compete with that?

“Sure, that’s why we’re here right now, forced to burn down our headquarters to get the cops off our trail. I’m sure that counts.”

“Fuck off, Richie. I’m doing it.”

“Well, stop taking your time about it. I’m going to send everyone else to the rendezvous point, then you and I can take my car once we’re sure everything is lit appropriately. Meet me at the back of the house once you’re done. And, Gareth? Hurry the fuck up!”

Richie disappears out of sight, his footsteps echoing in the hallway behind him as we hear him giving the team orders in another room. The front door opens, and everyone leaves.

Gareth sighs and pulls out a matchbox, twirling it around in his fingers. “Are you doing this on purpose, or do you hate me enough to torture me this long?”

“What, you want me to light you on fire now?”

I swallow. Hard. “You’re seriously going to do that? You’re going to watch me burn alive?”

He’s staring at me again, sweat beading his forehead. “It’s the only way to be sure that we don’t mess up this time. It’s the only way to know that you’re taken care of.”

I can’t tell if he’s talking to me or to himself. I open my eyes wide, though they can’t go much further than they are now, and I allow them to fill with tears. This is also not difficult. The gasoline is overwhelming, stinging my senses.

“After everything we’ve been through, you’re going to stand there and watch while I writhe in agony until my skin peels from my flesh and I die? That’s the last memory you want to have of me?”

An image flashes through my mind of Gareth on top of me, fucking me. It was good but it wasn’t great. Still, it’s enough of a memory for me to know that I have some level of weight with that statement. I did mean something to him once. It was more than just sex… at least, on his end.

His face falters as he considers my words, the image trapped in his mind’s eye. He glances back at the doorway, presumably searching for his brother. When there is no sound, he pulls out the pile of zip ties and drags my chair to an old radiator in the corner. Connecting the ties, he proceeds to latch me to the metal, ensuring that I’m trapped.

“You won’t be able to break out of this one, Scarlett, but you’re right. I can’t just sit and watch you burn alive. Be right back.”

He dashes from the room, leaving me tied to the radiator, covered in gasoline, surrounded by it. A moment later, he returns, only to grab the gasoline can and bring it back with him. Soon after, I can smell smoke coming from close by. Gareth returns with the can.

“Okay, I set the room next to you on fire. Richie will never need to know that your death was more of a slow burn.”

I want to ask if Richie would notice that I’m not screaming in agony but that seems like a stupid thing to do. I don’t want to give Gareth any reason to set me on fire and end this any sooner than it’s going to already. The smell of burning gas and smoke intensify, and I want to hold my breath. Flashes of memory return with the scent. I remember discovering the code in my desk drawer, puzzling it out. I remember when I first began to suspect that Gareth had something to do with all of this.

“I’m sorry, Scarlett. Really, I am. I wish that things could have been different, that you and I could have had a chance at a life together.”

He’s delusional. I want to spit in his face but I don’t want to antagonize him. An angry Gareth with a pack of matches is not the Gareth I want to be facing right about now.

“You’re the one making this choice. I would have loved to spend a life together,” I say, crying.

It’s the last tool I have in my belt, and he hesitates one more time.

“Gareth! Get a fucking move on!”

He stares down at me, memorizing my face one last time as his eyes comb over my features. Smoke is curling around the top of the doorway, and I know it’s only a matter of time before the highly flammable liquid all around me, soaking through me, will bring this all to the end they’d hoped for in the first place.

Gareth leans down, pressing his lips to mine is a disgusting kiss, forcing his tongue past my lips as he savors the sharp tang of gas on my mouth. When he pulls back, I’m close to puking. I can’t even wipe his saliva from my face.

“Goodbye, Scarlett,” he says, and leaves the room.

And I am left there to sit and watch the flames lick at the door, hungry for the gasoline on my skin.