Chapter 64 Sixty Four
OWEN WINTERS
The news.
The papers.
Blogs — the fucking media!
Everywhere sparked on fire by exactly 6:30 am when Amy was still turning in bed, her breast heaving with her calm breathing as her head rested on my chest.
The phone ringing woke me up, and when I picked the fucking call, my entire day got ruined — so ruined I forgot to take coffee before dashing out of the house.
My phone rang, and my eyes snapped open at the first ring, but I was too tired to reach the phone, so I let it ring hoping it'd stop — it didn't.
“Answer the damn call,” Amy muttered, turning over, allowing me to stretch and reach the phone.
I answered.
“This is daily news we…”
Why am I being called by the news?
Immediately I hit the end button, another call came in … another news… .
I logged into the news and no one would've guessed what was trending.
THE WINTERS ART MUSEUM ON FIRE.
My grip on the phone loosened and it fell to the floor, but didn't shatter. Everywhere felt suddenly quiet with only the clock ticking every goddamned second. Fresh wind swept past my face and I realized the windows weren't locked, and Amy shivered, wrapping her arms across each other.
I pulled up the duvet and shut the windows before picking the phone and dialling the number I knew like the back of my palm.
Father.
He answered on the third ring like what just happened was a joke to him. The museum didn't contain only artifacts and paintings, but an underground filled with ammunition, and by the heavens got burned down in one night — to ashes… grey ashes.
Before I spoke, he started, “I heard the news about the fire. Seems like a war is about to break out. Tell Amelia to move back to the States, Paris is dangerous at this time.”
“Father a whole…”
Beep.
He ended the call, and I didn't dare ring him again. I racked my brains for anything, a solution, who caused it, but only the ticking of the clock was what filled it.
Damn!
6:35 am
Amy opened her eyes and I felt her gaze with intensity at my back before crawling quietly to touch my shoulders. I allowed her, and it helped to cure the feeling or maybe it worked a little.
“What's wrong?” She asked, probably noticing my behaviour towards her touch. Women knew too much.
“The news,” I murmured. She reached for her phone and stared into it for a while before her eyes grew wider than a doe's or a raging fire.
“I thought the museum…”
“Yes,” I answered, my heart ached so bad that I heard it tear. That establishment took a lifetime's work and a lot of killings to get the museum and in one night — day, everything was gone in thin air.
Suddenly, my phone beeped, a new notification showed up on my phone. I opened it not caring if it were a hacked or virus infected file, and that was what set me running this morning — running to murder that bastard!
I burned it down and soon, your… my little woman would be next. Come over let's talk like brothers.
Brothers?
I bit my lower lip subconsciously until it drew blood, my eyes went red with rage.
I stood, my intent only to kill a bastard who didn't know his place. Without doing much, he had already broken the camel's back and the mention of my pumpkin set me on fire.
“Where are you going?” Amy asked, her voice shaky and throaty. “To kill our enemy,” I answered, putting on the first thing my hand touched in the wardrobe.
“Don't act recklessly, Owen…” I didn't let her finish her statement, and I was out, into my car and to that fucking place the moron lived.
I cursed in French.
6:50 am
“You came!” Ash Sean Winters exclaimed, his arms outstretched, but my expression told him I didn't care if he wanted a hug or talk. I punched him hard in the face, and he winced. Blood trickled from his nose, and by God I wished to punch him till every bone in his face broke and every part of his face soaked with his own blood.
But I withheld from doing anything without thinking, because if Ash burned down a whole museum, he could do more to me, Winter or not.
“That's no way to treat a brother, you know?”
“You burned everything down! You bastard,” I yelled, my hands folded into a fist ready to make another move on his face, maybe I'd hit the vital point on his neck and unalive him.
“Calm down, war has just begun, and my little woman-” he smiled widely like a ten year old who got a candy by chance. It disgusted every bit of me that I spat out at his feet.
“She's mine, and don't fucking involve her in this!”
“She's carrying a Winters baby after all, and her waist is nice for bang…”
A punch.
Fuck! Almost close to his nerves.
Ash laughed and I wondered if I finally met my match — a psycho who laughed at pain and in pain, but the only difference remained that he was the antagonist in my story.
And I wasn't letting him play a role in it, so killing him seemed better off.
“I struck a nerve didn't I? Let me tell you something, I'm personally hosting a party and I want you both to come, father won't be there, just us and a few families. Then we can settle our scores about your museum-” he grinned before continuing, “After all you got it from burning down that same museum.” He walked past me, his shoulders rubbing mine as he left.
I stared at where he once stood, now replaced by a blank space and too many thoughts to ponder on. Amy was my main priority and for once I agreed with father, I had to convince Amy to go home or go somewhere safe.
Paris wasn't safe anymore, and by God the town known for spirit was going to be replaced by blood and damned real spirit, after all wasn't it an eye for an eye.
I grinned.
I might end up enjoying this.
9:30 am.