Chapter Twelve #2
“We’re managing. Just needed some supplies.” I glanced over at Seraphine, who was looking around the store.
She pulled her scarf down slightly. “I’ll be right back. I need the ladies’ room. It was nice to meet you, Jenny.” She pulled her scarf back over her mouth and took off toward the back of the store.
As soon as Seraphine was out of earshot, Jenny leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Listen, honey. I should probably tell you there was a young man in here yesterday asking questions about you.”
Every muscle in my body tensed, my mind racing with possibilities. “What kind of questions?”
“Wanted to know if you lived around here. He was real polite like, but something about him felt… off.” She glanced down the aisle Seraphine had disappeared down. “He showed me a picture of a girl. Pretty. Dark hair. Asked if I’d seen her around town at all.”
“What did you tell him?” My jaw clenched at the thought of someone asking about Seraphine. It wasn’t Cyrus, though, so who the fuck was it?
“Told him I hadn’t seen no girl.” She fidgeted with her apron, glancing around the store before adding, “Told him I hadn’t seen you since you got out. Figured it wasn’t any of my business either way.”
“What did he look like?” Was this the same person who’d found my garage? Who’d been trespassing near my lake?
“He was a young fellow, maybe in his twenties. Brown hair, average height. Nothing really special about him.” She paused, searching my face. “You in any kind of trouble, honey?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” I forced myself to remain calm even though every part of me was screaming to grab Seraphine and get the hell out of there.
I grabbed a pen from the counter and scribbled my phone number on a deli ticket.
“Do me a favor. If he comes back, call me. If anyone else comes around…”
She held up her hands. “I don’t know nothing about nothing. You’ve been through enough, you and your family.”
My gaze drifted to the bakery counter behind her, several pastries and pies laid out behind the glass. “Thanks, Jenny. Can you wrap up two of those cherry pies for me?” I asked, needing to focus on something normal so I wouldn’t start breaking shit. “A surprise for my friend.”
Jenny’s face lit up. “Sure thing. Fresh this morning.” She grabbed two cherry pies and wrapped them up. “She got a sweet tooth?”
“Something like that.” I chuckled just as Seraphine came around the corner. “Ready?” I asked.
She nodded, her eyes drifting to the sweet treats behind the counter. “Do you have any cherry pies, Jenny?” The spark of hope in her voice had me smiling.
“Sorry, hon, just sold the last two.” Jenny winked at me, reached over and patted my arm. “Be careful out there. Those roads…” She trailed off, but I understood her meaning.
Someone was out there looking for me, and, even worse, for Seraphine. If it wasn’t Cyrus, then who the fuck was it?
Seraphine and I headed out, the truck loaded up with supplies and extra fuel. I was careful to keep the pies hidden from her. They were her favorite, and I knew she would love them.
Oh, and her wanting to lick them off your abs has nothing to do with it?
No, of course not.
But who was I to stop her from exploring her little food kink?
The drive back was tenser than the trip into town. The need to check the rearview mirror for signs of us being followed was consuming me. But the roads were mostly empty, only a truck passing us every now and then.
“That’s weird.” Seraphine frowned at her phone. She’d been trying to check her messages and had finally gotten a signal.
“What’s weird?” I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white.
“I’ve been getting these messages on Instagram every day for the past week, but I just saw them now.” She held up her phone so I could see a string of messages. “Someone saying they need to talk to me. Her name is Amy Champ. Says she’s a survivor too.”
“A survivor? Of what?”
“That’s what’s strange. She won’t say exactly, but she keeps mentioning ‘him’ and ‘what happened before.’” Seraphine scrolled through her messages, biting down on her bottom lip. “She says she has proof of who the real killer is, and she wants to meet.”
Every instinct in me screamed danger. We pulled up to my garage and I parked the truck inside. “Let me see.” I grabbed her phone, checking the messages.
It was a new account, barely a week old with a generic name.
There were no pictures, no posts. I scrolled back through the messages, reading each one for any sign that this could be Cyrus.
The most recent message said Amy had been there that night in Chicago when the other women got killed, but she’d gotten away.
“But why not go to the police? Why reach out to you through Instagram instead of official channels?” I shook my head and handed her phone back. “It doesn’t feel right. It could be Cyrus trying to lure you out.”
“Or maybe she’s scared. Maybe she doesn’t trust the police after what happened with my case.”
“Don’t respond,” I said. “Not yet. We need to be careful about this.”
“I know.” She tucked her phone back into her pocket. “If it’s him though…”
“We’ll wait.” I turned to her, wrapping my hand around her neck and pulling her to me.
I didn’t know if it was him, some troll trying to pull a cruel prank, or an actual survivor.
But in this moment, I realized that I wanted more time alone with Seraphine.
Time away from working phones and my psychotic brother.
The reality was I was selfish and didn’t want to face what I knew we eventually had to.
“We’re safe for now. We’ll come up with a plan and handle it. ”
But were we really safe? My mind flashed back to the footprints and Jenny’s warning. Anger burned through me at the thought of anyone trying to hurt Seraphine. I would destroy each and every one of them.
We packed up the cargo sled and attached it to the snowmobile, then made it home without losing any of our supplies on the way.
Hours later, after we’d unpacked everything and I’d managed to keep the cherry pies hidden from her, I found her arranging blankets on the couch she usually slept on.
“What are you doing?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe as I watched her fluff a pillow.
“Getting ready for bed.” She didn’t look up, but there was something in her tone that had me walking over to her and grabbing the pillow from her hands.
Her lips parted in surprise, and she clasped her hands together.
“I didn’t want to assume that I’d be sleeping in your bed just because we… well, because—”
Something dark and possessive flared inside my chest. The thought of her sleeping anywhere but beside me made my jaw clench. Didn’t she realize she belonged in my bed? In my fucking space. Where I could keep her safe and watch over her.
“You have two seconds to get your ass to my bed before I carry you in there.” I tossed the pillow on the couch, crossing my arms over my chest so I wouldn’t take her like a madman. “In this cabin, you sleep in my bed from now on. It’s not a request.”
Her pulse at the base of her throat quickened, and her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip. “Are you sure? I don’t mean in a virgin needy ‘are you sure’ way, but my nightmares…”
“You mean the ones you haven’t had in days ever since you’ve been in my bed?” My voice came out gruffer than intended, but I needed her to know exactly where she belonged. “You’re mine now, little lamb.”
Something shifted in her expression, a mixture of acceptance and fear. Before she could overanalyze whatever was going on in her head, I bent down and tossed her over my shoulder in one motion. She let out a surprised squeal that turned into a fit of laughter as I headed toward the bedroom.
“Valen, put me down!”
I spanked her ass playfully as I marched down the hall. When we got to the room, I tossed her on the bed. She giggled and leaned up on her elbows, her legs spread just slightly.
God, she was fucking beautiful like this. Pink cheeks, messy hair, a grin plastered across her face. But soon, I’d have that grin wiped off her face and replaced with my name on her lips.
Right now, nothing else mattered. Not Cyrus, not the footprints, not the messages. Only she mattered.
And she was all fucking mine.
I crawled across the bed, caging her in with my arms as she lay underneath me. “You’re mine, Seraphine.” I dipped my head low, kissing along her jaw. “Say it.”
“Oh, God, Valen.” She wiggled against me, her hands running through my hair. “I’m yours,” she whispered.
I growled low in my throat as she pulled me down by my hair, slamming her lips into mine.
Those words had just sealed her fate.
And mine.