Chapter 11
Jillian
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Jillian sensed something was wrong. Moe never stepped away from his routine. He wasn't sitting in his chair like he usually did after work with his boots off and his eyes half-closed from exhaustion.
He paced.
Back and forth across the living room, jaw tight, hands flexing at his sides like he was trying to find some use for them. The floorboards creaked under his weight. His breath came too fast. His eyes kept flicking toward the window, toward the sky outside, toward something she couldn't see.
She sat on the couch, her knees pulled up, watching him with a knot forming in her stomach. Moe rarely showed his emotions. In fact, she'd call him an emotionless asshole.
"What's wrong?" she asked quietly.
He stopped mid-stride. Turned toward her. The look on his face made her heart stutter. She sat up straighter.
He walked to her. Crouched down in front of the couch until he was eye level with her.
"You need to listen." He bowed his head a moment and then met her gaze. "Listen to everything I have to say and trust that I know what's best. Don't interrupt. Don't run off. Don't shut down. You hear me?"
Her pulse accelerated. "Moe—?"
"No." He shook his head sharply. "You have one chance, and I need to tell you everything before the storm arrives."
A chill slid down her spine. "What storm?"
He reached out, taking her hands in his, holding them to keep her quiet. His palms were warm. His grip was firm. But she could feel the tremor beneath it that was never there at night when he held her hand.
"I'm going to help you go home," he said.
Her breath caught. That shut her up.
Her chest tightened. She stared at him, unable to speak. A million questions flooded her thoughts, but she wasn't going to screw up her one chance to get back to her mom.
"But I'm going with you," he said.
That added blow stole her excitement. She blinked, trying to make sense of it. "You... what?"
He swallowed hard, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm not letting you go alone. Not through the veil. Not into your world. Not with what's coming."
She shook her head, confusion and fear tangling in her chest. "Moe, you can't—"
"I can," he said. "And I will."
He lifted one of her hands, pressing it against his chest, right over his heartbeat. It thudded fast beneath her palm, too fast for the calm, controlled man she'd come to know.
"You told me about your mom," he said quietly. "You told me what you lost, what you're losing. I don't understand all of it. I don't understand how someone can love that hard. But I heard you."
Her throat tightened painfully.
"And I'm not letting you face that alone," he said. "Not again."
She stared at him, her breath trembling. She didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to process the shift happening right in front of her. Moe was her captor. Her jailer. Her shadow. And now—
Now he was choosing to follow her into a world he didn't belong in.
"Moe..." she whispered.
He shook his head again, firmer this time. "There's more. A lot more. And you're not going to like any of it. But you need to know before the storm hits."
She swallowed hard. "What storm?"
He finally looked toward the window, toward the darkening sky. "The kind that opens the veil. The kind that takes people back."
He turned back to her, his grip tightening around her hands. She inhaled deeply, knowing she had to be ready to protect herself.
"And when it comes, Jillian...you're going home."
Jillian's pulse thudded in her ears as Moe held her hands. He was worried. It wasn't as simple as he made it out to be.
They had to leave during a storm. That alone scared her, but if she could get back to her mom, she'd travel through hell to get home.
"There's more." He cleared his throat.
Her stomach tightened. "Tell me."
The sooner she learned all the details, the faster she could convince him that they must leave. She understood her world. Everstill was his world. She could navigate her way to freedom and see her mom.
"When we get to your world, I can't be seen. Not by the cops. Not by anyone who might recognize me." He exhaled hard through his nose, like the words tasted bitter. "You'll need to hide me."
She blinked. "How am I supposed to do that?"
"You have a place to live, right?"
She frowned, but going home was too important to lie. "Yes."
"Then you'll take me and not tell anyone I'm there."
"Why?" She rubbed her forehead. "Why do you have to hide?"
He looked away for a moment, jaw flexing, then met her eyes again. "Because the last time I was in your world, I was heading toward prison."
Her breath caught. "Prison?"
"Yeah." He held her gaze. "I was on the bus, going to prison, when it stopped, and I got out and started walking. I ended up in Everstill."
"You escaped." A cold shiver slid down her spine. She swallowed. "What did you do to get yourself sent to prison?"
He gave a humorless laugh. "Better question would be what haven't I done, sweetheart."
Her heart hammered at the endearment. She would've pulled her hands away, but she remembered the months she'd lived with him. The nights he held her hand while she slept. The mornings he made sure she ate. The way he never touched her in anger. Never hurt her. Never crossed a line.
He might be dangerous, but he wasn't cruel.
She drew a shaky breath. "If there's a warrant out for your arrest... why would you go back? Why risk that?"
His gaze intensified with certainty. "Because I need to find Finn."
She stiffened. "Finn?"
"The man who left Everstill before me," Moe said. "The only one who's ever made it out and stayed out. The only one who's succeeded on staying out of Everstill. The only one who might know what's coming next."
A chill crept up her spine. "You talk like this... veil thing is alive."
Moe leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper-like confession. "It's the only thing in Everstill that is."
Her breath caught. The room suddenly suffocated her. None of this made sense. Leaving Everstill was supposed to be freedom. But the way he said it made her feel like she was stepping into something worse.
"But, we went through a storm to get here," she whispered.
"It wanted us back." His gaze narrowed. "It won't be an easy trip through if we try to leave."
Her pulse quickened, but she was afraid of asking if they'd get hurt. She needed to return to her mom, no matter what.
"You think Finn will help you?" she asked.
"I think he'll help you be safe," Moe said quietly. "And that's enough."
Her throat tightened. She couldn't breathe around the weight of what he was telling her. Moe—the man who'd dragged her into Everstill—was now planning to walk into a world where he could be arrested on sight...just to make sure she wasn't alone against something she couldn't even see.
And she was supposed to believe the veil was a barrier, a storm, a thing, and was alive? That it could hurt her? That it wanted something?
She shivered, but not from fear of him. She'd lived with Moe for weeks, maybe months. God, she couldn't even keep track of time here.
During her stay, he never harmed her. Never raised a hand. Never crossed a line.
Whatever danger waited for her out there... it wasn't Moe.
He squeezed her hands. "When the storm hits, we go together. Locked together, hand in hand. But once we're there, I stay in the shadows. You lead. I follow."
She stared at him, her chest aching. Was he giving her control over her life?
"This is dangerous?" she asked.
He nodded.
She swallowed. "You could get caught."
"Yeah. It's a possibility," he said.
"You could go to prison."
He held her gaze, steady and unflinching. "I know."
"Then why risk it?" she whispered.
His voice dropped. "Because I'm not letting you walk into that world alone. Not with what's coming. Not with what the veil wants. Something is brewing. I can feel it, and Copper isn't saying anything yet."
Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance. A low warning.
A tremor ran through her. Could she really be going home?
Moe held her hands. She squeezed back, agreeing to what he suggested. Going back to her home, her mom, and her life were worth the risk.
She didn't owe Moe anything. He was the one who kidnapped her.
"It's starting," he said softly. "And we're running out of time."