Page 111 of Scarred Ruin

Fire.

The destructive force of nature had haunted me for years. No longer did flames licking against a perfect piece of timber in the fireplace provide any sense of comfort. Instead, the scent alone brought unwanted memories that languished in the darkest reaches of my mind for days.

Arson was a powerful tool used by those hoping for instant satisfaction, providing a sense of joy to those intending on ruining lives and businesses.

Tonight was no different.

Or I should say this morning.

The sun had already made an appearance over the horizon, glittering golden rays shimmering on the surface of the water.

It was Christmas Eve. My thoughts drifted to what I had waiting for me at home. While I’d gone through the motions with Mina from day one, I’d never managed to find any joy from the holiday. How could I? Now with Isabel in my life, everything had changed.

At least I knew they were both safe. I’d added more soldiers to watch the house. So far, there’d been no one who’d dared try to approach my personal space.

We’d been forced to wait by the water for hours while the firefighters had worked to at first prevent the fire from spreading to other buildings before eventually managing to douse the flames.

The wind carried a brutal, acrid tang across the lot. Burning plastic, wet ash, and charred drywall. To anyone else, it was just the smell of a destroyed warehouse. To me the stench was a chemical footprint of exactly how hot the ignition had been.

And added fuel to the desire for instant revenge.

Both Sergei and Roman had known better than to say a goddamn thing during the time kept away from the area. However, Sergei had been on the phone with our accountant and insurance agent, requiring financial assessment of the damage while several of my soldiers had scoured the docks in search of anyone who could provide information.

There were three other dead bodies and all on board the ship where the fuckers had gained entrance. Thankfully, my men had been quick in response, although instead of leaving one alive, they’d reacted on instinct. Thankfully, members of the police department had known better than to push for access. It paid to fund their charity organization.

What had I been doing while the fire department had been tackling the flames? Stewing from murderous thoughts that brought me no closer to discovering the person responsible. They’d left no calling card that so far we’d been able to detect.

The firefighters were just finishing going through the rubble, searching for any remaining hot embers.

“Mr. Aristov, while the fire appears out, you’ll need to stay free of the area for at least forty-eight hours.”

I’d barely heard the man who was standing right beside me. The loss wasn’t as much about numbers on a spreadsheet, although that was significant, as it was about the loss of power. The enemy had struck under the guise of the holidays.

“Mr. Aristov?” the captain of the fire department pressed. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Markus. I understand.”

“The fire inspector will contact you with the formal results.”

Laughing almost felt appropriate. “We both know it was arson. I don’t need to know the specifics.”

“You will when the person responsible is found and charges are filed.”

Very slowly, I turned my head. “As I said. No need.”

Markus finally realized what I was saying. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry about the loss of the building. We did everything we could do.”

“A building can be replaced.” People could not.

“No. No!”

“Max. You can’t go in there. The fire is too hot.”

“Get the fuck off me. That’s my wife.”

With a sharp exhale, I turned my head. The memory was vicious and always had been. I’d fought my way inside and then for the last time in my life, I’d prayed for God’s intervention.

He’d failed me.