Chapter Nineteen
Seraphine
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you here by yourself,” Valen grumbled for the third time as he adjusted his tie. He looked uncomfortable in his dress shirt and slacks, which only made me chuckle.
“Here, let me help you.” I pried his fingers away from the tie so that I could do it. He looked so sexy dressed up like this, but I didn’t want to tell him that. Because if I did, then he would try to fuck me and definitely miss his appointment.
“It’s only a few hours,” I reminded him as I fixed his tie and smoothed the fabric against his chest. “Besides, Cyrus is in custody, so what’s the worst that could happen? We disarmed all the booby traps so I think I can handle anything else.”
He shot me a look that said “yeah, right,” and I smacked his arm playfully.
“The bank closes at three, and if I don’t sign these settlement transfer papers today, they’ll freeze the account indefinitely.” He ran his fingers through his hair, tension rolling off him.
He was referring to the settlement he’d won for his wrongful conviction. Apparently, there was some issue that required him to sign papers, otherwise they would freeze his account. He had to go today, or he was screwed. I could understand his frustration.
“You could come with me.” He grabbed his keys, twirling them around his finger.
“And sit in a stuffy bank lobby for two hours while you argue over paperwork? I’d rather take my chances with the tripwires.” I stood on my tiptoes, giving him a kiss. “Go handle your business. I’ll be here when you get back. Probably covered in paint.”
“Naked and covered in paint?” He smiled as he brushed his lips against mine.
“I’ll see what I can do.” I let him deepen the kiss for a moment before pulling back, breathless. “Now get out of here, my Viking overlord, before I rip this sexy suit off you.”
That got a smile out of him. “OK, just keep your phone on. And don’t—”
“Don’t answer the door, don’t go outside, don’t burn the place down. Got it, Daddy.” I gave him a mock salute which had his eyes darkening. I knew I was going to pay for that sassy remark later, and I was ready for it.
After he left, the cabin felt too quiet.
I turned on the radio and rummaged through my backpack, looking for my good sketching pens.
In the outside pocket, my fingers closed around something smooth and familiar.
I pulled out the wooden knife Valen had made me weeks ago.
I’d almost forgotten I’d put it in there.
I turned it over in my hands, remembering the day he’d given it to me.
I’d been so nervous around his sharp blade that he’d made me one out of wood just so I could practice.
It wasn’t an actual knife, but it was sharp enough.
And it was his. I slid it into my pocket so I could carry around a piece of him while he was gone.
Damn, girl, you are whipped with a capital W.
Shut up.
OK, arguing with yourself was definitely a sign of mental illness, although I already knew my mental state was questionable.
My phone buzzed from the kitchen counter about an hour later, pulling me away from the sketch I was doing of my sorority sisters. It felt good finally capturing their smiling faces again. A part of me felt lighter knowing that it was all over, and it was showing on the paper.
I clicked on the notification, and it opened Instagram, where a new message was waiting for me.
Hi, Seraphine, this is Amy Champ again. You didn’t answer any of my other messages, but I’m trying again because I saw they caught him. I came to New York. I had to see for myself. I’m passing through Lake Placid and wanted to see if you’d like to meet up. I could really use some support right now.
I stared at the message for a long time. Amy Champ. She’d been messaging me for weeks claiming to be a survivor from Chicago. A stab of guilt ran through me at ignoring her messages. I’d been too wrapped up in my drama to deal with someone else’s.
But now… now it was over. Maybe talking to another survivor would help. Maybe we could both find some closure together.
She wasn’t that far from Valen’s cabin. We could meet in town.
I got that fluttering sensation in my stomach again, the kind that said Valen would kill me for meeting a stranger by myself.
But he could come with me. I mean, nothing bad would happen with him there.
Not that I was expecting anything bad to happen.
I typed back: Hi, Amy, sorry for not answering. Things have been a little hectic. I’d be open to meeting. I’m not too far from you, up in the mountains at my cabin. What time were you thinking?
Her response came back almost immediately. How about the next hour? I can come pick you up if that’s easier.
OK, Valen would definitely not want me inviting some strange woman up to his cabin when he wasn’t here. I had a feeling my ass would be paying for that for days.
Seraphine: How about three p.m.? My boyfriend will be back by then and will take me into town. There’s a little store in town called Jenny’s. I could meet you there.
Amy: Sounds perfect! I’m really excited to meet you.
Seraphine: Can you send me a photo? So I know what you look like?
I wasn’t being paranoid. OK, maybe a little bit.
But if there was anything I’d learned from Emmeline, and not to mention that fanatic Michael, it was not to trust random people from the internet.
Some people were seriously obsessed with my case and story, and it wouldn’t be that much of a surprise for this Amy to be some creepy true crime guy who wanted to act out some weird fantasy.
Girl, you’re being way too paranoid.
Amy: Not a problem, here’s me.
The photo that came through was of a woman in her late twenties with dark hair and sad eyes, though the beauty filter was working overtime. Her skin was practically glowing, and her features had that weird smoothness that screamed “I’m using every filter this app has.”
Not that I could blame her. If I was meeting a stranger who was riddled with trauma, I’d want to hide my baggy eyes too.
I sent her back a recent selfie, one where I actually looked like a human being instead of like I’d been living in a cabin in the woods for over a month.
Amy: Great, see you at three!
I was about to put my phone away when something made me scroll back through my messages. Something had been nagging at the back of my mind since yesterday, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.
I opened up the message thread from Cyrus, that horrible video staring me right in the face. I tried to ignore it, scanning the message I’d sent him.
Come and get me, you coward.
Read at seven twenty-two a.m. yesterday morning.
I stared at the timestamp, my coffee growing cold in my hands. Yesterday morning was when they’d announced his arrest on the news, but he’d been apprehended the night before.
So how had he read my messages hours after he’d been taken into federal custody?
Maybe the timestamp was wrong. Or maybe one of the FBI agents was looking through his phone for evidence.
See, that made perfect sense. There was nothing to be paranoid about.
You know when you’ve been through some difficult shit and people tell you to “give yourself some grace?” This was one of those moments where I needed to give myself some. I didn’t need to beat myself up for being paranoid.
Grace that shit.
That’s not how it works, Seraphine.
I checked the time to see how long until Valen came back. He’d already been gone two hours, so he should be back any minute now. I kept myself busy for the next half hour, but the sound of tires crunching through snow made me stop my sketching and go over to the kitchen window.
A blue sedan pulled up with New York plates, and my heart raced as a woman stepped out.
Amy Champ.
She looked around, looking the same as the photo she’d just sent.
But how the hell did she know where the cabin was? I hadn’t given her the address, and I’d specifically said to meet in town because, hello, giving out Valen’s remote home location to an internet stranger was the kind of decision that would get me featured on Emmeline’s true crime podcast again.
Every alarm bell imaginable began ringing in my head as she walked toward the front door. I took a deep breath, steadying myself, then kicking myself because we’d locked up all the guns in Valen’s safe.
A moment later, she knocked. It was soft, almost a little hesitant, and I tried to reel in the psychotic thoughts I was having.
There’s a reasonable explanation.
I approached the door slowly, reaching for the wooden knife in my pocket. “Amy?”
“Hi, Seraphine, it’s me. I’m so sorry for showing up like this, but I was driving around trying to kill time before our meeting and I saw the cabin. I hope that’s OK?” Her voice sounded genuinely uncertain and apologetic, even though the rock in my gut started to grow.
I opened the door, keeping the chain latched. She stood on the porch hugging herself, her cheeks rosy. She looked exactly like the photo, minus the filters—tired, on edge but slightly hopeful.
“I’m really sorry about ambushing you like this.” She stomped her feet, getting the snow off her boots. “I just couldn’t stop thinking about finally meeting another survivor. Is it OK if I come in for a few minutes? Just to warm up, and then we can go back into town.”
Everything in me screamed danger. That was exactly the kind of thing Valen would lose his mind over—me, alone, letting a stranger in the cabin.
But she was shivering on the porch, and she looked uneasy, apologetic and almost eager.
Just another survivor looking for connection.
The old me would have left her standing in the cold before risking letting someone potentially dangerous come inside. But the old me had been terrified of everyone and everything.
“Of course.” I unlatched the chain. “Come in. We can wait for my boyfriend inside where it’s warm.”
She stepped inside, looking around the cabin with wide eyes. “Wow, this place is so beautiful. Looks so peaceful too.”