Blackwood Billion Dollars Vengeance

The air did not smell like a home anymore. It smelled like burning paper and thick, black smoke that made Jaxon’s eyes sting. He stood in the middle of the grand library, watching the flames burning the edges of the tall bookshelves. The heat was so heavy it felt like a physical weight pressing against his chest.

"Jaxon, look at me!" his mother shouted.

Her face was covered in grey soot, and her hair was wild. She didn't look like the calm, elegant woman who ran the Blackwood estate. She looked terrified. She grabbed his shoulders, her fingers digging into his skin.

"I’m not leaving you, Mom," Jaxon said. His voice was shaking. He tried to pull her toward the main door, but she wouldn't move.

"The doors are locked from the outside," she said, her voice cracking as she coughed. "They aren't just letting it burn. They want us inside when it goes down."

"Who?" Jaxon asked. "Who is doing this?"

"It doesn't matter who," she snapped, pushing him toward a small, hidden door behind a row of burning books. "What matters is that you get out. You have to go now, Jaxon. The roof isn't going to hold."

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a heavy gold ring. It was his father’s signet ring. She grabbed his hand and pressed the metal into his palm. The gold was hot from the fire, and Jaxon winced as it scorched his skin, but she didn't let go.

"Keep this," she whispered. "Remember who you are. You are a Blackwood. Do you understand me?"

"Come with me," Jaxon pleaded. Tears were tracking through the soot on his cheeks. "There’s room in the tunnel. We can both make it."

She looked up at the ceiling. A loud, groaning sound filled the room. The big beams were starting to snap. Pieces of burning wood fell onto the rug, and the fire spread faster. She gave him one final, hard push into the dark opening of the tunnel.

"I love you," she said.

Before he could jump back out, she pulled a heavy lever. The small door slammed shut, locking him in the dark. A second later, he heard a massive crash. The library ceiling had come down. He screamed her name and beat his fists against the wall, but all he could hear was the roar of the fire on the other side.

The tunnel was tight and filled with old dust. Jaxon had to crawl on his hands and knees. The air was thin, and every breath felt like he was swallowing needles. He didn't know how long he crawled. His knees were bleeding, and his mind was a blur of fear and anger.

Finally, the tunnel opened up. He tumbled out into the wet grass and rolled down a small hill until he hit the cold water of the river. The shock of the cold helped him breathe again. He scrambled into the tall weeds by the bank and looked back at the hill.

His home was gone. It was just a giant orange glow against the night sky.

He saw three dark shapes standing on the long driveway. They were men in expensive suits. They weren't running for water or calling for help. One of them held up a glass, the liquid inside catching the light of the fire. They were laughing. They looked like they were celebrating a victory.

Jaxon stayed low in the weeds, his heart thumping against his ribs. He memorized their shapes. He memorized the way they stood while his mother died.

A hand suddenly clamped over his mouth. Jaxon surged, ready to fight, but a familiar voice whispered in his ear.

"Quiet, Jaxon. It's me. It's Richard."

Jaxon went limp as his uncle pulled him back further into the shadows of the trees. Richard Thorne looked a mess. His coat was torn, and his face was pale. He wrapped a heavy jacket around Jaxon’s wet shoulders and pulled him away from the river.

"We have to move," Richard said softly. "If they find out you got out, they’ll finish the job."

"They killed them," Jaxon whispered. He was shivering so hard his teeth clicked together. "I saw them, Uncle Richard. They were standing right there. Sterling. Crane. Vale. They were watching it burn."

"I know," Richard said. He led Jaxon toward a car hidden down a dirt path. "I know they did. But you can't do anything tonight. You’re seventeen years old and you’re alone. We have to go."

They got into the car, and Richard started the engine. He didn't turn on the lights until they were a mile away from the estate. Jaxon stared out the window, watching the glow of the fire get smaller and smaller in the distance.

"You have to forget this night," Richard said after a long silence. "We will go to Europe. I have money put away. You can start over. You can have a normal life, Jaxon. It’s what your father would have wanted."

Jaxon looked down at his hand. The gold ring had left a red, circular mark on his palm. The pain was steady and dull, and he welcomed it.

"A normal life?" Jaxon asked. His voice wasn't shaking anymore. It was flat. Cold.

"Yes," Richard said, reaching over to pat his shoulder. "You can be safe. You can live."

Jaxon turned his head to look at his uncle. The boy who had woken up that morning was gone.

"I don't want to live, Uncle," Jaxon said. "Not if living means forgetting."

"Jaxon, listen to me—"

"No," Jaxon interrupted. He looked back at the smoke rising over the trees. "I want to be the fire that finishes what they started. They think they burned everything today. They think they won. But I’m going to spend every day of the rest of my life making sure they lose. I’m going to make them eat the ash of everything they love."

Richard looked at him for a long time, then slowly turned his eyes back to the road.

"Then we have work to do," Richard whispered.

Jaxon closed his fist over the ring, feeling the burn in his palm, and didn't look back again.