I struggled to stand up after Cain had left me lying on the ground. My body ached from our fight, and I could barely crawl towards my car. I never meant for things to escalate like this, but his words about her, as if they were already in a relationship, pushed me over the edge.

I had no intention of being in a relationship with her, but the mere thought of someone else having her was unbearable. Especially if it was Cain. I let out a sigh and leaned against my Ferrari, grateful for the coolness of the metal against my back.

I wiped the blood from my chin, slightly taken aback by how much had accumulated.

"Son of a bitch can still pack a punch," I thought as I used my jeans to clean my hand. Spitting out the excess blood from my mouth, I inspected my arms. While I didn't use all of my strength, I had left a mark on Cain, and that brought a sense of satisfaction to me.

I took a deep breath, savoring the pungent scent of burnt flesh that hung in the air like an unwelcome guest. It was a strange sensation, one that I had grown to appreciate despite my initial aversion to my fiery abilities. I wasn't always like this, caught up in chaos and destructive power. There was a time when my mind was clear and untangled.

There was a time when I was just like everyone else, indistinguishable and unremarkable in the tapestry of society. As an innocent child, I held onto the belief that humans were fundamentally good, choosing to believe that only a small fraction harbored true darkness within. In my mind, people were not inherently wicked by choice; rather, their souls were wounded and scarred beyond repair.

When I was younger, I looked up to my father as a hero. I aspired to be just like him, and perhaps even exceed his accomplishments. But that all changed on the night of the accident. My perception of heroes and pedestals was shattered in one near-fatal moment.

The night little Blaze died.

My eyes shot open, and I glanced around my room, trying to figure out what had woken me up. Everything seemed normal until I heard my mother's panicked screams and smelled smoke. Confused and worried, I couldn't understand why she wasn't coming to me instead of just yelling for help. Her voice reminded me of when she stopped Dad from hitting me that one time. I got up quickly, pulling the covers off of me as I headed towards the bedroom door that my little brother and I shared. I never liked the idea of sharing a room with him or having a sibling in general. I couldn't comprehend why my parents decided to have another child, but my mom always said it was for the best and that we would be best friends once he could talk better.

His mere presence sent a chill down my spine, and I could feel my father's attention gradually shifting towards him. In response, I found myself gravitating more towards my mother. I cherished the moments we spent together, but my younger brother always managed to steal her away from me. I resented him for it, but I could never bring myself to harm him. Yet, my mother had suspected otherwise and locked me in this room until dinner.

If she had intentionally trapped me in here, why was she shouting at me instead of coming to let me out?

I hesitantly grasp the doorknob, feeling my skin starting to sizzle from the intense heat emanating from it. Quickly removing my hand, I inspect it for any burns, but there are none - only the faint smell of something burning. Smoke seeps in from under the door, sending me into a state of panic. I frantically try to remember what my father had taught me about handling this type of situation, but my mind draws a blank. My eyes dart back and forth, unsure of what to do as the intense heat continues to build around me.

As I drifted off to sleep, a fire must have started; my mother must not have had time to rescue me. She was always so devoted to my little brother Caleb. In my mind, I could see her outside, cradling him and crying uncontrollably.

Despite the oppressive heat and chaos around me, I refused to let it break me. I wanted to prove to my father that I was not weak, as he often claimed. I knew he was out there, saving lives like a hero.

If I were in danger, he would come for me too, right?

As my mother's voice grew louder and more insistent, I couldn't help but respond in kind. She was trying to comfort me and tell me everything would be alright, but something in her tone made me doubt her words. It was hard to accept that I couldn't trust the one person who was supposed to always have my back. I resented that my childhood was never normal because of these abilities that ran in our family. If we didn't have them, maybe my dad would have been here to save me already.

Tears threatened to spill from my eyes, but I took a deep breath and followed my mother's advice. I reached into the closet and grabbed a thicker t-shirt, placing it over my mouth. I wasn't sure why she had told me to do this, but I trusted her and followed through.

I couldn't comprehend how this would protect me from the raging fire that had already engulfed a quarter of my bedroom. I watched as some of the posters on the walls peeled off slowly, tumbling and burning to the ground until they were reduced to ashes.

I desperately held onto my mother's words of reassurance, praying that my father would arrive soon. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly as the fire inched closer and closer to me. It could have been mere minutes or only a few seconds, but for my terror-stricken mind, it felt like hours had passed.

I backed away, but there was nowhere to run. Panic set in as I realized my father might not arrive in time. After all, there were many others who needed help too, right?

"Dammit...", I hissed through my teeth, my fist slamming into the ground.

I dreaded remembering that night. I wished I could erase those memories from my mind, the pain of the fire searing my skin and the realization that my father didn't even visit me in the hospital. Those memories haunted me at night, proving that no amount of therapy could ease my pain, despite my parents' efforts and money spent on it.

I rose from my spot as soon as I heard the wailing sirens of the approaching police cars. The sound was a clear signal for me to make a swift exit; I had no desire to be caught in this location when they arrived.

With fierce determination, I revved the engine and took off, ignoring all the speed limits and traffic lights. My mind was already racing, trying to come up with a plan to keep Cain at bay.

My initial curiosity about Scarlett had morphed into an intense need to remove Cain from her life entirely. The mere idea of her giving him any attention filled me with fury. I wanted her to focus solely on me, even if I didn't reciprocate the same level of attention.

In a frenzy, I parked my car carelessly in front of the grand building that held my penthouse. The elevator, unknowingly aiding my emotional state, swiftly took me up to the top floor. Once inside my apartment, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the well-stocked bar and collapsed onto the plush sofa. In the dimly lit room, I stared out at the vibrant city skyline with its glittering lights casting a mystical aura. Forgoing a glass, I drank straight from the bottle with unbridled rage.

If it weren't for their pre-existing connection, I could have easily separated her from Cain. But if she had become his girlfriend, I knew there would be consequences - consequences that no one dared to mess with.

Except me.

I had once successfully stolen his girlfriend, so what was stopping me from doing it again?