Chapter 8 - The Fire and the Rose
The heavy lamp shattered against Marcus’s skull with a sickening crunch.
He roared in fury, stumbling sideways, his revolver discharging with a muffled THWIP that shattered the desk glass into a million glittering shards. Clara tackled him across the work table, sending buckets of red roses, shears, and glass vases crashing to the floor in a chaotic storm of cold water and crushed petals.
"Lily, RUN!" Clara screamed, clawing at Marcus’s face as the heavy man threw her off him with brutal strength.
Lily didn't run toward the front door.
Instead, she darted behind the flower counter, grabbed a bottle of industrial floral alcohol used for cleaning shears, and dumped the entire contents over the electrical panel beside the main fuse box. She picked up a flickering candle from the shop's decorative window display and tossed it onto the wet wires.
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A violent WHOOSH of blue flame erupted instantly, devouring the dry bamboo shades and spreading rapidly across the wooden flower crates.
Marcus staggered to his feet, blood pouring down his temple, but the wall of fire cut him off from the exit. He pointed his gun through the smoke, firing blindly, but Clara grabbed Lily’s arm and yanked her through the back emergency door into the cool night air of the alleyway.
