It was almost anti-climactic being this close to the infamous Zachary West. The El Lobo of PoP — a man so rife with insanity that he’d become a way to scare small children into brushing their teeth. Because, if they didn’t, El Lobo would come to them in the middle of the night and cut out their tongues. Tongues that he’d then feed to his hellhounds.

But Zachary West was just a man. Not even striking man. Kane could have walked past him on the street and not have noticed him.

If he hadn’t caught sight of his eyes, of course.

It was the center of Zachary’s madness. A tiny gleam that had nothing to do with the crackling fire or the orange light splashing over the walls, especially since Zachary had his back to the fire. El Lobo held Eleodora in front of him as a shield, and the dog sat in front her like a guard.

The dog made eye contact with Kane, and it was as if a charge of electricity jolted him. Such loving eyes; the same chocolately brown as Zachary’s.

No madness there, only eager anticipation as it waited for the start of whatever strange game these humans were playing.

Hoping it would be part of it.

Hoping it would last forever.

Kane’s eyes fled away from that intrusive stare. It took in the wooden walls of the beach house. A camera affixed in one corner. A tablet computer, satellite phone, and a casing of some vaguely familiar electronic device on the side table.

Five empty glasses on the coffee table. Two bottles of wine.

Just for show, of course, so they’d know Zachary had seen them coming. That he’d been prepared.

But just how prepared had he been? For how many hours, days had he known they were coming?

Kane’s mind raced back.

Zachary’s pilot had been so eager to help them. Kane had thought it was the large amount of cash they’d paid the man to snitch…but they’d forgotten something crucial.

Zachary didn’t tolerate snitches. And everyone who worked with Zachary knew that very well.

Unless…

His eyes flashed back to that shell of plastic. A round hole, perfectly sized for a button. No, not a button—a trigger for a remote detonator. He’d seen them before, shopping online for his gadgets. It would be difficult to conceal something of that size. Except if you removed it from the casing, making it easier to—

“He’s got a bomb!” Kane yelled.

“No!” Lars barked to one side, the same instant Finn lifted his pistol.

A shot went off.

Cora screamed.

The dog barked once, very loud.

Zachary laughed.

Fire burst from the hearth.

An incendiary agony enveloped Kane. His body struck something that broke apart under him. His head slammed against something even harder, but it didn’t give way.

Heat splashed over his skin, licking, licking, licking.

He could smell hair burning. Flesh cooking.

Fire.

Zachary loved fire.

He used it to cleanse. To kill. To maim.

A dog whimpered, almost inaudible above a penetrating whine.

He lifted a hand and touched his ear. Wet. Blood.

His face was too tight.

Sunburnt.

Another whimper, the only sound except for the hungry gnaw of the fire consuming the tinder box they’d so carelessly walked into.

Accelerant.

In his eagerness to get close to Eleodora again, he’d dismissed that faint scent lingering in the air.

A mistake he’d never make again.