434- The Fire That Consumes
POV Thalyndra Moonclaw:
I faced him, analyzing eyes that seemed so... familiar, just like the ones that used to appear in my dreams.
I snorted.
"Well, thank you for coming, supposedly to save me, but I don't need help. You can leave now."
He arched an eyebrow and pursed his lips in a grimace.
"As far as I remember, I put you in a compromising situation. If it weren't for me, you'd be dead already."
He was so irritating.
"Good thing it was you, then," I mocked.
He raised a finger defiantly.
"And, by the way, you owe me a new shirt," he said with a pout, turning his head downward and staring at the torn, blood-stained clothing. "I liked this one. It was one of my favorites."
I shrugged.
"Nobody told you to break into my house."
"To save you?"
I clenched my teeth hard.
"I never said I needed saving."
He rolled his eyes.
"Let's not get into that again, not when I'm clearly right." He made a dismissive gesture with his hands. "You're coming with me, and that's not an option."
I ignored him, irritated by his arrogance and presumption. I moved forward, passing by his side without bothering to glance at him.
I dragged my father's table aside, crouched down, and pulled up the lid covering the floor, opening one of the hiding spots he kept. I retrieved the red gallon from the hole in the floor, the liquid inside sloshing with the movement.
"What are you doing?" Anton asked, narrowing his gaze at the container in my hand. He flared his nostrils, trying to catch the scent.
"I'm going to set the house on fire," I warned, rising from the floor with the gallon in hand.
"You're going to what?" He tensed, running a hand through his hair, tossing it back.
I let out a sigh and cast a glance around.
"My father's orders," I explained, dragging my eyes to him. "If something happened, I was supposed to burn everything that remained. Maybe the Merchants will return, maybe they've already taken everything they wanted. I don't know. I only know I won't let them get their hands on my father's life's work."
"So you're going to set the house on fire?" he insisted, sounding appalled.
I nodded.
"It's the only way to get rid of what's left. Also the only way to avoid the police. My father worked with humans; we lived among them. Do you really think they won't notice the disappearance of the most respected professor in the program?"
I had no idea what Anton understood or didn't understand about non-werewolf society, but I imagined the rules were completely opposite.
He was silent for a few seconds.
"And then, Thalyndra? Are you simply going to burn everything that belonged to your parents, including everything that's yours? And then?"
I swallowed hard.
"I'm going after the Merchants and kill the bastard who ended my parents' lives," I whispered, jutting out my chin, determined.
He shook his head in denial.
"You're coming with me to Eldoria. I gave my word to my father that I would take you home, and that's exactly what I'm going to do."
"Then we're going to have a big problem, Anton Eldoria. I'm free to make my own choices."
His grayish-blue eyes met mine, fixing them without blinking.
"Your father's last request to mine was for him to keep you safe. Your life was entrusted to me, Thalyndra. No matter how much you hate the idea, you won't have another choice. It's a promise that will be kept, whether you like it or not."
That upset me more than it should have. I knew my father would entrust my life to whomever he considered worthy and strong enough to protect me, but he had raised me to do that for myself. Calling Eldoria before being killed only showed that he didn't believe I was good enough to act on my own.
For years, he taught me the art of combat, educated me to fight with a dagger, sword, bow and arrow, or even just with my fists. Therefore, I was no completely defenseless fool.
"Nothing will stop me from avenging their deaths," I affirmed, resolute.
I removed the cap from the gallon and began splashing the gasoline everywhere. Over the table, soaking the papers and melting the ink of the letters that marked them.
I turned my back and faced the books with a compressed heart. For centuries, they had been my father's most faithful companions, and then they became mine as well, when I spent hours in the library beside him, each with a volume in hand.
I threw the gasoline, drenching them with the flammable liquid.
I felt Anton's hand on my arm and my skin prickled. I faced him with quickened breath.
"Are you absolutely sure about what you're doing?"
I pulled my arm away from his touch.
"Yes, I am."
I felt... strange near him. My mother was right when she said that being raised away from others of our kind could be a problem in the future. I cared little about humans, but I hardly knew how to react being beside another wolf.
I stepped back, making my way out of the office, walking backward, while throwing gasoline in all directions.
I didn't care about that house; it held no sentimental value for me. Neither it, nor any of the thousands of others we lived in over the years. They were just houses, places my father found for us to live.
But what I was doing—throwing gasoline on everything that belonged to him, on every memory, every page, every line of ancient and deep knowledge.
My stomach churned and my eyelids trembled. That, yes, mattered.
I would burn everything, turn it all to dust, to nothing. It would be as if my parents had never existed. In a few years, they would build another residence on the land, which would become the home of a new family, while mine would remain buried under the rubble and never be remembered again.
Either way, it didn't matter what I felt or thought about it. They were my father's express orders and one of the few promises I managed to keep. Yes, I would burn everything; I would destroy everything he was, everything he built, and everything he acquired—both knowledge and possessions.
Anton walked over the transparent liquid streaming across the floor. The smell was strong, making my throat itch.
I left the office and ran to my room, bursting the door open. I placed a backpack on the bed, opened the wardrobe, and began throwing items inside, choosing them according to what I thought would be necessary, along with shoes and personal belongings.