BURN IT ALL DOWN
A Hometown Antihero Novel
© 2025 Amber Lynn Natusch

From the moment the gavel fell in the courtroom that day, sealing my father’s fate, every step I’d taken was with the singular focus of seeing him freed. And that journey had led me to exactly where I stood. 

In the distance, an abandoned farmhouse sat ominously, beckoning me to it. I knew that beyond its front door, the vengeance I’d craved for so long awaited me. Vengeance for the innocence the Advocatus Diaboli had stolen from me. For the pain he’d caused. 

For my father. 

For Dawson. 

Standing there in the dark of night, with only the dim light spilling through the front windows of the eerie house to show the way, I thought about the monster waiting inside. I knew in the marrow of my bones that only one of us would be leaving there alive—that my story with the AD was about to come to a conclusion.

That one way or another, it would end now.  

I watched as a single snowflake danced on the early winter wind, drifting down until it fell on the back of my hand. For a fleeting moment, I admired its intricate pattern and beauty before the warmth of my skin melted it away, destroying its future in an instant. I tracked the droplet of water as it dribbled onto the table next to my food tray, then vanished through the cracks in the wood, never to be seen again. 

The metaphor was hardly lost on me.

Images of taillights fading as the river swallowed them whole played over and over in my mind while I stared at the table, oblivious to anything around me. 

Until a faint voice broke through the haze. “Ky?” Someone jostled my shoulder hard enough to pull me from my macabre fixation. “Earth to Kylene Danners!”

I snapped from my memory to find Garrett staring at me, concern bleeding into his expression, and I realized I’d zoned out during a conversation yet again—apparently right in the middle of a rather heated lunch debate, the subject of which I’d totally missed.

“Well?” Tabby demanded from across the table. “What’s your vote? We need it to break the tie.”

“Yes,” I said with the confidence of someone who had totally been paying attention. “Absolutely.”

Tabby’s expression soured in an instant. Her boyfriend, Mark, however, threw his hands up in triumph as he jumped up onto the bench seat. “That’s what I’m talking about! Holiday mullets for the boys!”

It was at that moment I knew I’d fucked up.

“Wait, what?” I said as reality slammed into my gut like a cheap shot after the bell.

“Were you even listening?” Maribel asked, annoyance (or sheer terror) tainting her tone. She glared at me with those deep brown eyes like she wanted to rip my tongue out. “The boys want to grow mullets over Christmas break, Kylene—and you just gave them the green light!”

Oh shit.

“Um, I think I misunderstood the assignment—”

“Clearly,” Tabby muttered under her breath.

“I’d like to claim a do-over due to mental distress.”

“Nope,” Garrett said, shooting me an amused look, “no takebacks. No re-votes. What’s done is done and cannot be undone—”

“Oh, not that again,” Maribel said with a sigh as she buried her head in her hands, trying to escape her secondhand embarrassment. “You really have to stop quoting those high fantasy shows—”

“But I thought you loved that there’s a D&D nerd under all this sexiness.” He smiled at his girlfriend in a way that would have disarmed a lesser woman. But Maribel was far from one of those.

“I do love that about you, but I’ll love it less if you’re sporting a crown of business in the front, party in the rear when we come back in the new year.”

“Yeah, I’m going to claim temporary insanity, which technically nullifies my vote. That leaves you back at a stalemate.”

“Which means the hair stays,” Tabby announced loudly as she pulled Mark back down into the seat beside her.

“Awww, but babe…it’ll look good on me.”

She folded her arms and pinned a look on him that even I would have retreated from. “Will it look as good on you as single will look on me?” He opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it, taking a big bite of his burger in defeat instead. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re going to be a holy terror in law school one day,” Garrett laughed as he raked his fingers through his shaggy black hair that wouldn’t be getting a mullet anytime soon.

“She really is,” I agreed, forcing a smile. “No one will ever see the predator lurking inside all that gangly prey aesthetic.”

“I should be offended by that,” Tabby replied, flipping her vibrant red hair over her shoulder, “but I’m going to take it as a compliment. Dichotomy is my vibe.”

“It sure is,” Mark said with mischief in his eyes. “Lady in the streets, freak in the—”

Tabby slapped her hand over his mouth while hers hung agape with shock. Garrett and Maribel laughed wildly, and I did my best to join in. Old Kylene would have thought it was hilarious. But it took a lot to break through post-rooftop Kylene’s haze. She was tired. Frustrated. And felt lost without a purpose.

Dad’s case had all but gone cold the moment the police cruiser containing the mob hitman who’d nearly killed Dawson and me did a swan dive over a guardrail into the river, taking two officers along with it. Why? We still didn’t know, because no sabotage had been found once it was dragged from the water and examined. No cut brakes. No jammed steering. The only ones who knew exactly what had happened in the car that night were either lying on a slab in the morgue or buried six feet under.

Or the brains behind it all.

I’d have bet my life that the AD was to blame, but proving that would be nearly impossible.

Dawson had been called back suddenly from his trip back east only a day after he arrived, so he’d returned empty-handed. Not one to be easily deterred, he’d dedicated every spare moment he had after that to combing through the personal affairs of both officers in the cruiser to find something damning, but had, as of yet, come up short. Since Manny Marazano had been cuffed and behind the cage in the back seat, it was safe to say that he wasn’t the direct cause. 

Two deaths he wouldn’t get to take credit for in his rather notorious career.  

In the two weeks following that night, I’d felt totally and completely adrift. Did that sound unnecessarily dramatic? Maybe, but it was true nonetheless. My father’s case had overtaken my life without me even fully realizing it, which had proven to be an excellent distraction (danger notwithstanding) from everything else in my life I hadn’t wanted to deal with—like my mother’s absence, Gramps’ health scare, my rather devastating breakup with AJ, the myriad attempts on my life, and the fact that I might never get to see my father outside of prison again. But now, with nothing but time and the pile of missed assignments I was buried under and desperate to avoid, I found myself in a sea of dark thoughts with all those issues clawing at me, trying to pull me under. The concussion I was still healing from and the resulting gaps in my memory from the night of the pageant certainly weren’t helping things. 

Thankfully, I had an upcoming appointment with the FBI’s in-house therapist, Dr. Chin. If anyone could help me navigate it all, it was her—or Dawson. He had a way of helping me wade through the chaos of my life, like a beacon that always guided me true. But my beacon was holed up in Columbus, buried in a pile of work all his own. Though he’d been much better about staying in contact—unlike the last time I’d nearly been killed—I hadn’t seen him for weeks. I couldn’t help but wonder if that made my already despondent state a little worse.

A complicated thought to unpack another day.   

While everyone else roared with laughter at Tabby’s reaction, Garrett stared at me in silence, as though he could read my mind. As if he could see that his friend was slowly drowning in a turbulent sea of her own unwitting creation, hiding behind a fake smile and forced laugh, and he knew that just throwing her a life jacket wouldn’t be enough. He might have to dive in with her and haul her out, kicking and screaming, if he wanted to save her—from the sea as much as from herself.

The warning bell rang, saving me from his impending interrogation (which, to his credit, he hadn’t done since the night of the pageant), and I scooped up my tray still filled with the lunch I hadn’t eaten before heading toward the door.

“Gonna be hard to turn in that English assignment without your bag,” he called after me. I turned to find him holding it up in dramatic fashion. 

“I was just going to dump this and come back for it,” I lied with ease, but the pinched corners of his eyes told me he saw right through it. He whispered something to Maribel before kissing her cheek, then jogged over to me as the others looked on, each of them wearing that same look of concern. “Here you go,” he said, handing it over.

“Thanks.” I slipped it over my shoulder as I walked through the cafeteria. “But I probably don’t need it since I didn’t get that paper done, so—”

“You want me to come by tonight and help you with it?”

“Nah, I’m trying to actually pass that class, thank you very much.”

My clear attempt to deflect with humor was as ineffective as I expected. Garrett Higgins knew me far too well for a tactic like that to work on him. I was losing my edge, too, apparently.

He pulled me to a stop and eyed me for a moment as everything he wanted to say played out in his expression. “I’m worried about you, Ky. Like really worried.”

“You don’t need to be,” I said with a sigh. “I know I seem a little off, but I promise it’s nothing. I’m just trying to process all this shit, you know?”

“I do know, but I think it’s more than that. It’s like you’re a zombie some days, and it’s freaking me out.” He looked back at the group still lingering around the table, staring from a distance. “It’s freaking us all out.”

“I’m not trying to worry you—”

“We know that, but it’s not hard to see that you’re struggling…we just want to help.” Students rushed past us as we stood in the middle of the cafeteria having a conversation I most certainly didn’t want to have—because the truth was, maybe they were right to worry. Maybe things were worse than I wanted to admit. Worse than I could see myself. “Mark said you haven’t been back to the gym at all,” he continued, “and it doesn’t seem like you’re doing any of your homework.”

“I barely did my homework before, if you recall.”

He frowned at my rebuttal. “Tabby said you turn down all her offers to hang out after school.”

“In fairness, I turn down everyone’s—”

“Which is exactly the point, Ky. You’re isolating yourself, and I just don’t think it’s okay.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then promptly shut it, because he was right. They all were. 

I’d felt a numbness since I watched that car go over the bridge that I couldn’t quite shake. It was different from the shock I’d felt after Donovan and Lawyer Luke had tried to kill me. Different from the bone-deep cold I’d experienced after narrowly escaping Mr. Matthew’s basement of doom. Hell, it was even different from watching Dawson tumble over the rooftop at the hotel. Every one of those reactions had been steeped in fear. 

This, however, was something else entirely—like an emptiness I couldn’t fill. My hope for saving my father had disappeared that night, and I realized that had been the only thing keeping me going since his incarceration. 

Healthy? No. 

True? Yes. 

When I didn’t respond, he stepped closer, the hand holding my forearm squeezing ever so slightly. “I love you like a sister, Ky, and I always have. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. But I don’t know how to help you right now, and it scares the shit out of me.”

“I’m not going to hurt myself, if that’s what you’re worried about, Garrett. I promise.”

“I want to believe you—”

“Then believe me.” His furrowed brow did not ease at my words, so I took his hands in mine as kids frantically rushed past us, headed to their classes before the final bell rang. “I’m just struggling a bit right now, that’s all. Once I can wrap my head around everything, I’ll be good to go…it’s just going to take a little while.”

“And you’re still seeing that therapist?”

“Yes, Dad,” I said with a genuine smile, “I’m going back Saturday. Feel better now?”

He eyed me tightly for a moment before a tiny crack formed in his concerned exterior. “Yes. Much. But I’d feel even better if you agreed to a movie night this weekend.”

I groaned in dramatic fashion. “I will agree to this, but only, and I mean ONLY, if I get to pick the movie, because I cannot handle your borderline-problematic obsession with Tom Cruise films or all things Lord of the Rings-adjacent.”

A smile spread at my response. “Deal.”

The final bell rang, alerting us to our collective tardy status, but Garrett didn’t even flinch. His reservations about my mental health outweighed potential detention, and in the strangest way, that thought made me smile.

A tiny light cut through my dark abyss. 

“I’ll text you later for details,” I said, releasing his hands. 

“I’ll stalk you if you don’t.”

I walked away quickly before the weight of the moment and Garrett’s watchful eye overwhelmed me. He wasn’t kidding and I knew it, and if I didn’t get my shit together fast, he’d stage a full-scale intervention, complete with sob stories and a plan of action to keep me from being a danger to myself. Because he loved me.

Because he was my best friend in the world.

By the end of the day, all I wanted to do was go home and numb out on the couch until I fell asleep. Unfortunately, my overwhelming late assignment load couldn’t allow for that. I’d been in the weeds since I set foot in Jasperville High School, and that situation had only gotten worse with every case I’d gotten sucked into. I needed to buckle down and attempt to focus, something my brain seemed thoroughly incapable of as of late, if I wanted any chance of getting caught up. Principal Thompson had kindly pointed out to me that my ability to graduate on time hung in the balance. And it would be such a shame to waste that full ride I’d been given to Ohio State, so pulling my head out of my ass was my only option.

I made a quick pit stop at my locker to regroup and get everything I needed for an evening of physics and English boredom, hoping to do so without having a concerned teacher or principal ‘just happen by’ in the process. They meant well, but their need to keep an eye on me was as unwarranted as it was annoying. Stealth was the name of the game. 

As I chucked books from my bag into the rusty metal locker, I heard a group of girls giggling and whispering nearby. I peeked past my locker door, expecting to see them looking my way, but instead I found them crowded together, reading something on one of their phones. The sheer joy on their faces was as surprising as it was foreign, and I stared at them, trying to remember what that carefree vibe felt like—remember a time when being asked to a dance or thinking about college was my heaviest burden. At the moment, they felt like distant memories, eclipsed by murder convictions, attempts on my life, and a conspiracy so deep I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to the bottom of it. Not alive, anyway.

With a heavy sigh, I went about gathering my books for the ever-looming mound of homework I’d face when I got home. I slammed my locker shut and heaved my massive bookbag onto my shoulder, the weight and momentum of it spinning me around 180 degrees—right into the path of AJ Miller.

Foiled by physics yet again.

He stopped the second our eyes met, and we stared at each other for longer than was comfortable. We hadn’t spoken since we’d broken up, not even after everything that had happened at the pageant. I could see in the depths of those bright green eyes that he wanted to say something—that his lack of contact with me had to do with so much more than anger—but there really wasn’t anything to say, and we both knew it. A hard line had been drawn in the sand when I chose my father’s chance at freedom (and my continued danger, as I was sure he would argue) over him, and there would be no coming back from that. I had hoped that eventually we could be friends again, but the pain in his expression said otherwise. 

There would be no going back. 

Just before my better judgment failed and I walked over to try and make amends, he dropped his gaze, turned on his heels, and stormed away without looking back. 

Swallowing down a well of emotions I had zero interest in dealing with, I darted down the nearest staircase and all but ran to the parking lot where Heidi, my not-so-trusty car, awaited. I made it to her without interference, which was a blessing all its own, and drove home as quickly as possible. Gramps wouldn’t be home until later, and I relished the idea of just being alone for a while. No scrutinizing eyes. No piteous looks. And no impending doom—except for my pile of homework. 

The dense clouds above made it much darker than normal, and I secretly wished I’d left a light on when I’d rushed out of the house that morning, late for school. Was I scared of the dark? No. Did I have an overactive imagination now, fed by real-life harrowing events that made me feel like I was scared of the dark? Yes. Yes, I did. 

And I hated it. 

Steeling myself with a few deep breaths, I got out of the car and made my way up the front porch steps to the door, keys in hand. I glanced back over my shoulder as I fumbled with the lock, half expecting (or hoping) to see Agent Dawson storming up the front yard with a file in his hand and a look of determination in his warm hazel eyes. But all I saw was the empty street. 

Then the key turned over and the door swung open. Once I was inside, I locked it up tight again. 

Gramps had left me some sort of casserole concoction in the fridge with a little note on top: I know you probably didn’t eat your lunch, so this had better be empty when I get home tonight. He’d signed it with a heart (and his poor attempt at a smiley face), which warmed mine in return. After all he’d been through, heart attack and all, he was still just worried about me. It made me realize the sacrifices parents made for their children—and their children’s children. 

My father’s reluctance to talk about his case finally began to make sense, which cemented the grim reality I’d been steeping in for weeks: he would never help me prove his innocence. Not really, anyway. And with the evidence lost with Manny Marazano’s death, prison was where Dad would stay for now. 

For me. 

To keep me safe. 

Endangering his life for mine; that was his burden to bear. Accepting that truth was mine; and it seemed an impossible task. 

Reheating dinner was not, though, so I tossed it into the microwave, sans note, and watched it spin around in a circle as the timer ticked down, wondering how I could ever come to terms with the fact that I would never hold my father again until he was older than Gramps—and that was only if he even survived the length of his incarceration. He’d had three ‘incidents’ last I’d checked, and though he said they had all been resolved, I didn’t believe him.

I wasn’t the only Danners capable of a bald-faced lie to serve a greater purpose. 

The shrill beeping of the ancient microwave ripped me from my downward spiral, and I pulled my dinner out, grabbed a fork, and plopped down on the couch in front of the TV where my bookbag lay on the coffee table like a bad omen. 

With a heavy sigh, I opened it up and pulled my physics textbook out, along with my phone. As if touching it had brought it to life, the screen flashed with an incoming call from Logan Hill Prison. 

I stared at it for a moment, heart in my throat, then swiped it away. Taking a call from my father was more reality than I could bear at that moment. Instead, I tossed it down next to the dinner I didn’t eat and the book I never opened, curled up under a blanket, and fell asleep.

To Be Continued…

VICTORY IS SWEET━VENGEANCE IS SWEETER.

After three failed attempts on Kylene’s life, it looks like the Advocatus Diaboli might finally be done hunting her.

Or not.

Sure, our girl’s had a couple weeks reprieve from near-death experiences to deal with the lost dream of freeing her father from prison, but when mob witnesses with potential information that could break her dad’s case wide open again start dropping like flies, Kylene and Agent Dawson find themselves right back in the thick of things—and all the danger that entails.

Only this time, they won’t escape its grasp.

BURN IT ALL DOWN, the fourth and final young adult mystery novel in the Hometown Antihero series by USA Today bestselling author Amber Lynn Natusch.

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