Burning House – Midnight

The fire crackled behind you, illuminating the night with an eerie orange glow. Smoke curled into the sky, thick and suffocating, but you sat there calmly on the hood of a nearby car, compact mirror in one hand, lipstick in the other.

Your reflection was flawless—unbothered, unapologetic, untouched.

The distant sound of sirens grew louder. Then headlights. Then heavy boots on pavement.

“Jesus Christ…” Gaz’s voice was the first to break the silence.

The task force and local police stormed the scene. You didn’t flinch, just carefully applied another coat of red to your lips. Fitting.

Price shoved past the officers, his face contorted with something between rage and disbelief. “Tell me this isn’t what it looks like.”

You snapped the mirror shut and gave him a sweet smile. “Depends. What does it look like?”

Soap let out a low whistle, eyeing the inferno. “Looks like you burned his house down.”

Ghost, standing beside him, crossed his arms. “While sitting here like it’s a bloody fashion show.”

You shrugged, slipping the lipstick back into your pocket. “Wouldn’t call it a show. More of a… statement.”

Price’s hands clenched into fists. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, I dunno, Dad. Maybe I accidentally dropped a match while packing my broken heart.”

Gaz exhaled sharply. “Bloody hell.”

Soap grinned, whispering to Ghost, “Knew she had it in her.”

Ghost gave the faintest nod. “I respect the commitment.”

The captain you once trusted—the one who had cheated, betrayed you—was nowhere in sight. Probably lucky for him.

Price gestured at the police. “Get her up.”

An officer stepped forward to cuff you, but you raised your wrists willingly, wrists adorned with soot and a hint of expensive perfume. “Easy, officer. No need to get rough—I’m feeling cooperative.”

Price ran a hand down his face, looking ten years older. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

You smirked, eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Must run in the family.”