Chapter Eight
Seraphine
I was sitting at the kitchen table sketching when my phone lit up like a Christmas tree.
Signal bars.
Fucking finally.
I’d had no service since I’d gotten on the godforsaken mountain. Had that really been seven days ago? It seemed like a lifetime had passed. Seven days of playing house with Valen Creed. My therapist was probably going to need her own therapist after I told her about this.
After our little sparring session yesterday, Valen had made sure my stitches were still OK, then locked himself in his shed outside for hours.
I’d asked him what he was doing in there, but he’d only grunted in response.
Then, this morning, he’d gone out there first thing.
If I was a suspicious kind of gal, I’d say he was avoiding me, which was ironic considering he was the one who’d handcuffed me to him just days ago.
Even though I knew it was wrong on so many levels, I couldn’t deny my attraction to him. Somewhere between the car crash, the shrine room, and him pinning me to the ground, my mind had decided that something about him felt… right.
It was fucked up.
I was fucked up.
Apparently, my type was “ex-convict with control issues and an obsession with wood.”
Notifications on my phone started to flood in. Dozens of missed calls, text, social media alerts, and emails. I hesitated, glancing out the window toward Valen’s shed. It had been almost nice not having any contact with the outside world.
But I was here for a reason, and that wasn’t to play house.
No matter how good Valen looked in a flannel shirt.
Most of the missed calls were from Emmeline.
She was the host and owner of Crimson and Ash, a true crime podcast that mainly focused on cold cases, although she did report on active cases.
I’d met her on an online forum, a place where survivors could talk anonymously about their traumas.
Her father was the famous Mercy Killer—a cruel irony, considering mercy was the one thing he’d never shown.
She’d held my hand the entire duration of Valen’s trial and had become like my sister.
“Did you make it OK?”
“News says over six feet of snow expected.”
“Where are you?”
“Bitch, if you die in a blizzard I’m going to kill you.”
“Don’t make me drive out there.”
I dialed Emmeline’s number, and she picked up on the first ring.
“You better be calling me from jail, because that’s the only reason I won’t kill you.”
I chuckled, my heart happy at finally hearing her voice. “Actually, yeah. I robbed a sex shop and got caught with some very questionable items in my bag.”
“Hm, how much is bail for a sexual deviant?”
“No bail. I’m only allowed to pay my debt in sexual favors.”
Emmeline snorted. “Well, at least you’d finally get laid.”
“Is it normal to orgasm during a cavity search? Asking for my cellmate…” The words died on my lips as Valen walked through the door, one eyebrow raised.
Great. Perfect timing. Thank you, universe.
Heat radiated up my neck as he leaned against the doorframe, that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.
Emmeline laughed, but then her voice shifted. “Seriously, Seraphine. Are you OK? I was worried sick. The news said there was a major blizzard.”
I sighed, turning my back on Valen so I could focus on her. “I’m OK. It’s a long story.”
“I’m just glad to hear your voice. Tell me everything.”
I chanced a glance over my shoulder, still finding him watching me.
“It’s… complicated.” Emmeline was my best friend, but I didn’t know how she was going to react when I told her I was shacking up with Valen.
When the news broke that he’d been exonerated, she’d vowed to do anything to help me find the real killer.
So, when I’d told her I was going home to finally get some closure, she’d been all for it as long as I stayed safe and didn’t attract attention to myself.
“Complicated is my love language, Sera. Spill it.” I could just picture her now, leaning back in her work chair, feet propped up on her studio desk, most likely a Twizzler hanging from her fingers.
“I crashed.” I paused at her gasp and decided to just go for it. “Someone saved me. We’ve been snowed in at a cabin with no cell service.”
“Whoa, whoa, you met someone. I can hear it in your voice. Are we talking about a sexy lumberjack?”
OK, those were not the words I would use to describe Valen. “It’s um, Valen Creed.”
She screamed, and I held the phone away from my ear. Valen chuckled, shaking his head as he walked over to the stove and put on the kettle.
I spent the next five minutes giving her the barest of details. Just enough to satisfy her curiosity, but not enough to get me in trouble with Valen.
“Is he there now?” she asked, her tone all businesslike.
“Yeah.” I glanced at Valen, who stirred two teaspoons of sugar into a coffee cup and slid it toward me. He sat down at the table, not giving any indication that he was leaving any time soon.
“Let me talk to him.”
I sighed and held out my phone to him. It was useless to argue with Emmeline. Once she got something in her head, it was just easiest to go along with it. “It’s Emmeline Cross. She’d like a word with you.”
Valen took the phone without any hesitation. “Emmeline Cross. We speak again.”
Speak again? Well, that was news to me. I’d never known they had spoken before. My mind raced as I thought back over all the episodes she’d done on the case. None of them had involved any interviews with Valen.
They spoke for about ninety seconds. Well, Emmeline spoke, and Valen mostly grunted. He handed the phone back to me without another word to her.
“Are you going to—” My voice was cut off by another Instagram notification. “Geez, my Instagram is blowing up. What did I miss?”
“Sera, I need to warn you about something.” Her voice was heavy with concern, which had me straightening my back. “About a week ago, your Instagram got tagged in some seriously fucked-up shit. Photos of your sorority sisters.”
Valen had gone still. His eyes were locked on mine, and I knew he could hear what she was saying.
“I’m not surprised. I knew there were going to be trolls once I revealed my identity.
” I’d learned the hard way that some people were just shitty human beings.
Trauma made people cruel and they got off on doing some of the most horrible things.
During the trial, people posted vile things about me and my friends.
Said that we’d deserved it, that we’d been asking for trouble.
And don’t even get me started on the fan club of women obsessed with the Sorority Slasher.
“No, it’s not random trolling, Sera. They were photos from that night, ones not released to the public. Close-ups, ones only the killer would have access to. God, I can’t even describe them, they were that horrible.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, gripping the phone so tight in my hand I thought I would break it. Cyrus had to be behind it. Which meant he had taken my bait, just as I had hoped.
My eyelids snapped open as Valen ripped the phone from my hand. He placed it between us and pressed the speakerphone button. I glared at him as Emmeline continued.
“Someone’s been asking questions about you on the true crime forums too—where you live, if anyone has spotted you.
Real creepy questions, like someone’s trying to find you.
I spoke with the new detective on the case, Detective Flores, gave them all the info I could—screenshots, timestamps, usernames. They had all the posts taken down.”
Fuck, the last thing I wanted was for the police to get involved and mess this up for me. For us. After everything that had happened, I’d lost faith in the police. No, this time around I was taking justice into my hands.
“Send me everything, and keep your eyes open, but don’t respond to any of it. The last thing I want is for you to catch the attention of whoever the killer is.” Emmeline was already a target for a lot of crazies thanks to her podcast and her father. I didn’t want to make it any worse for her.
A few minutes later, I ended the call and met Valen’s gaze.
“He’s trying to draw you out,” he murmured.
“Looks like my plan is working then.” I forced myself to smile as I glanced out the kitchen window. “Do you think he could get to me here? In the storm?” My heart fluttered in my chest at the thought. Was I ready for this? Would Valen really help me kill his brother?
“Cyrus won’t come here. Not yet.” Valen’s jaw flexed, his eyes darkening. “I know him. He’s rotten to the core. But he’s smart. Dramatic. He’ll wait for the right moment.”
A chill ran through me, my leg bouncing uncontrollably under the table. Valen’s hand settled on my thigh, heavy and warm, which instantly calmed my nerves.
“We’ll be ready.” He held my gaze. “I just need you to stay put and stay calm.”
That’s me. Calm, cool, and totally not the type to run into a dangerous situation.
“Promise me, Seraphine.” Something in the way he said my name had me nodding my head, even though I would definitely be breaking that promise.
*** ***
Hours later, after I had rearranged every cabinet inside Valen’s kitchen, I pulled out the box I’d found stashed in one of the bottom cupboards.
The box rattled when I shook it, dust flying everywhere. “Truth, Trouble or Sin?” I arched my eyebrow as I walked over to the living room where he was seated carving one of his figurines.
“Came with the cabin,” he muttered, not bothering to look up from what he was doing.
I opened the box and pulled out the pamphlet on top. “Rules are simple. Answer the truth, do the dare, or accept the sin. Sounds interesting.”
“Seraphine, I don’t have time for these childish games.”
“Oh, come on, Valen. I’m going stir-crazy in here.”
He glanced toward the kitchen, letting out a huff. “You don’t say.”
I turned the pamphlet over, reading the rest of the rules. “If you refuse, you either drink or… strip.”