Rayne_Rue

Jason sank to his knees as smoke swallowed the sky, the color of it an angry crimson, like the world itself was bleeding. The house before him, her house, collapsed in slow motion, boards shrieking and crumbling as if mourning their own destruction.

His chest caved with a ragged sob, the kind that seemed to come from somewhere deeper than his lungs, deeper even than his body. Everything around him blurred—faces, sirens, flames—until all that remained was the ash.

He should have looked away. Should have closed his eyes.

But he didn't. He couldn't.
The paramedics moved solemnly through the smoke, their silhouettes stark against the firelit haze. The stretchers were draped in white sheets—too still, too final. He counted them without meaning to.
One... two... three.
Jason didn't flinch. His heart was hollowed out, like something had been carved from within him with a hot blade.
It should've been him.
Not Selena.
"No," he whispered hoarsely, his voice splintering. "No, it can't be."
He stumbled backward, eyes wide, brain refusing to bridge the gap between what he saw and what he believed. Reality came in slow waves, each one more unbearable than the last. And then he was moving, sprinting toward the stretchers with a desperate, raw urgency. A rescuer with no one left to save.
"Selena," he choked, reaching trembling hands toward the nearest form.
The heat of the fire still lingered in the air, as if the world itself was scorched. He lifted the sheet with shaking fingers. What stared back at him was no longer her face—just blackened skin, unrecognizable. His mind rejected it. It can't be her. It isn't.

The Mafia Couple

I'm too proud. Too blind. Too trusting.

And I didn't rise from the ashes of a burned childhood just to be undone by whispers and ambition. The Viper thinks she's patient. Thinks she's coiling beneath me, waiting to strike.

But she forgets something important.

I don't flinch when the snake shows its fangs.

I tear out its tongue before it hisses.

4:47 a.m. | Black Marble Hotel – Operations Wing

The war room was silent but alive—monitors blinking softly, papers sprawled across the long oak table, shadows dancing as the city stirred beyond the glass. I hadn't slept in 36 hours. Sleep was a luxury I couldn't afford anymore. Not while someone was building a throne two steps from mine.

Fire Beneath the Throne