A continuation of Picking Up The Pieces…
“Bailey’s ’n ice,” he muttered to himself, staring through the heavy duty pane into the freezer. The frosted glass was scraped away in places, allowing him to see his new possession.
The glass was specially imported. He didn’t want any way for water elementals to slip in through the reflections. He smiled to himself, cold eyes burning through the window to the young man frozen there. It wouldn’t take long before she would come too.
He understood that that was how love worked having never tried it himself.
Another smile cursed his lips. He drew a hangman’s noose on the condensation of the glass, wiped it away and headed down the corridor towards his office.
A slow trickle of icy breath issued from Bailey’s frosted lips, curling upwards into nothingness. He was still alive. His fire elemental core burned in his chest, smouldering with a deadly heat that could not be unleashed in such a snowy atmosphere.
He hoped Shayla would stay away.
They had him dangling from a hook like a piece of cattle in their elemental fridge, facing the window so they could gloat. The cuts to his face seethed with the cold, but he ignored them. Willpower was all he had.
The meat hook scraped the nape of his neck. He concentrated on it, using all of his inner heat to turn up the temperature of the metal. His fingers and feet began to ache as his inner heat drained away. He hoped the metal would heat before the frostbite could set in.
The metal blistered white and twisted out of shape, dropping him onto the icy floor below. His cheek smacked against the ice, feeling it instantly loosen and melt into a pool around his burning skin. The rope around his wrists caught fire and dripped into flaming embers.
He stretched his stiffened limbs, making for the door. Locked from the outside, he used his heat powers to melt the mechanism inside and easily pushed it open. He tracked the heat energy in the building. Werewolves pulsed in all the corners, guarding and controlling the rest of the inmates he suspected.
Eric’s office wasn’t difficult to find.
He waited outside, concentrating all of his fire energy into his glowing core. It would be fast and easy. All he had to do was open the door and blast Eric with the strength of his hottest charge, hitting above boiling point.
It would be horrific. It would be justice.
The door smacked open and he gave it all he had. Everything poured into the small room, fire and heat screaming from Bailey’s cool hands. The woman’s scream hit his ears too late.
He pulled back, fire evaporating into nothingness. Eric’s body lay on the ground. His blood, dried from Bailey’s heat, stuck against the gash in his throat. But Bailey didn’t see him. He caught the woman in his arms as she fell, tears already in his eyes. Even twisted and deformed by the blaze of his fire, he could recognise her.
Shayla’s heart stopped in his arms.
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