He looks to Arsen and Beretta and both boys reach out gripping his shoulder.

It’s like Beretta had indicated before, this place isn’t their home and I know now it’s not mine either.

Mine is wherever they are.

I smile, nodding, and when Arsen and Beretta move to the popped trunk, we join, grabbing what we need.

Beretta and Arsen place the gas cans all around, and I flick on the torch, but I wait for Ransom to come back and draw a line of gasoline from the front door to the middle of the grass.

He turns to me, rubs the spot on my cheek where my scar lies, and when he nods his chin, I toss it, and together, we rush to the edge of the driveway.

We watch as his childhood home goes up in flames, and once we’re sure it’s beyond saving, and the sirens ring out in the distance, we slide inside the black convertible and get the hell out.

Once we get to the cave on the beach, where we planned to wait out the fire tonight, I move the blanket from the floorboard and lift what I hid beneath it.

I set it in Ransom’s lap and his every muscle locks beside me.

Ransom’s face smooths as he stares at it, slowly taking it into his hands.

His jaw flexes, and slowly, his eyes meet mine. He shakes his head.

“I fired Gennie and hired Nana to care for the house, asked her to bring this with her.” I look to the crystal item, and the golden S I had imprinted on the side. “Nana said she thinks she found nearly every one.”

He spins the glass, smiling at the pearls inside it.

Again, his eyes slide to mine. “Jameson...”

“If you think she’s going to love to see those, just wait.” I grin.

As we step into the gardens, Sienna is already there waiting for us.

The nurse excuses herself and Beretta and Arsen step up first, kissing her gently on the cheek. A small grin forms along her lips, as she places her hand loosely on their hips to hug them back, but as we approach, it begins to fade.

Ransom sees it, and his hand twitches in mine before he releases me, slowly lowering on the bench at her side.

He kisses her forehead, and she closes her eyes.

When she opens them, they remain downcast.

I hold my breath, the air thickening around us.

“What’s wrong?” Ransom’s voice is hardly a whisper.

“Will you promise me something?” she asks him.

Leaning forward, he lifts her left fingers, slides his palm underneath, so he can hold her hand. “Yes.”

“No matter what it is?” she adds.

“I don’t like this...” Unease draws his brows together.

“Please, Ransom.”

He swallows, but nods.

“Leave me here—”

“Sienna, no—”