Chapter Seven #2
“Maybe not,” Griff said. “But it did feel like something.”
Lily nodded, her pulse quickening.
If two people, or two sides, were playing this game, then she wasn’t just chasing a killer.
She was walking a line between them. And one wrong step could get her killed.
Lily’s phone buzzed on the table beside the laptop. She glanced down, expecting another update from the lab or a ping from Hallie. Instead, the sender was the Outlaw Ridge Fire Department. Her heart gave a hard, unsteady thud as she read the message.
The site of your house has been cleared. You’re free to take a look around, see if anything’s salvageable.
The words blurred for a second, and before she could stop it, the image slammed into her. Flames clawing through her living room walls, smoke rolling through the roof beams, everything she’d tried to build turning to ash in the span of minutes.
The ache caught her off guard. She hadn’t let herself feel it last night. Not really. There hadn’t been time. She’d needed to think, to move, to survive. But now—
The loss hit like a sucker punch. The dread of seeing what was left, of walking through the wreckage of what she’d tried to turn into a home. Her grip tightened on the edge of the desk. A breath caught in her throat.
Griff was next to her in an instant. He didn’t speak right away. Just slipped an arm around her waist, and when she didn’t pull away, he pulled her closer.
“I know this is technically wrong,” he said quietly, his voice close to her ear. “But I don’t care.”
She let out a shaky breath, not even bothering to hide it. “Neither do I,” she whispered.
She leaned into him, her forehead brushing his shoulder. His arms were strong, steady. Warm. And right now, they were the only thing keeping her from breaking apart. She didn’t want distance. She didn’t want space. She just wanted this.
To feel something that didn’t burn.
Except something had burned.
Not her house. Not her past.
This.
The heat between her and Griff. The slow-building pull that had been simmering from the beginning, only now it flared hotter than ever. Right there in the quiet hum of the cold case office, with grief tightening her chest and his arms wrapped around her like a lifeline.
She didn’t want to need this. Didn’t want to feel anything beyond fury and resolve. But with Griff, it was impossible not to.
There was something about him, the way he held her without flinching, without asking. The way he didn’t try to fix it, just stood with her in the moment.
His strength steadied her, grounded her. But it also sparked something else. Something reckless and real.
She tilted her head slightly, just enough to look up at him. His gaze was already on her, unreadable, locked on hers.
She didn’t think.
Didn’t analyze.
She just leaned in, and so did he.
Their lips met, brief, tentative, warm. A breath of a kiss that still somehow shook her all the way through.
By the time they pulled back, neither of them said a word. They didn’t have to. The air between them said everything.
“A mistake?” he asked, voice low, his eyes searching hers.
Lily had to drag in a breath before she could answer, her lungs tight, her pulse still skittering from that kiss.
“Probably,” she said, managing a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
She didn’t add anything else, not aloud.
But inside… yeah. It probably was a mistake. One that cracked open something between them, something she’d worked hard to keep locked down. It had broken through the walls she’d built to keep things simple, professional, safe.
And now?
Now it felt like everything was more complicated than ever. But even as she stood there in the shelter of his arms, trying to gather her thoughts, she couldn’t summon a single ounce of regret.
Not for the kiss.
Not for the moment.
Not for the way it made her feel something other than loss.
Lily forced herself to take a step back. Her body resisted it, wanted to stay right there, pressed into his warmth, into the rare calm he gave her—but her mind knew better. She cleared her throat, trying to will her voice steady.
“I’d like to see what’s left,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Of my house.”
“You want me to go with you?” Griff asked.
She gave a small nod. “Yeah.”
He didn’t hesitate. “Try to stop me.”
The knot in her chest loosened just a little.
They grabbed their jackets in silence, the air between them still carrying that charged undercurrent. Lily kept her head down, trying to box up the emotions already creeping back in. She wasn’t ready to unpack what that kiss meant, not yet. First, she had to face the ashes.
Hallie’s office was empty as they passed, so Lily stopped at Jemma’s desk. “Let Hallie know we’re headed to the fire site,” she said.
Jemma nodded quickly, concern in her expression but no questions asked.
Outside, the cold hit harder than it had earlier, maybe because now she wasn’t just thinking about the house, but walking into it. Or what was left of it. They crossed the lot in silence, boots crunching on gravel, and Lily unlocked the SUV with a press of her fob.
Griff opened the passenger door and waited until she slid behind the wheel before getting in himself. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew this drive wasn’t just about rubble. It was about facing down what someone had tried to do to get her to back down.
It hadn’t worked.
If anything, it made Lily more resolved to get to the bottom of this.
The drive was quiet, and Lily kept her hands steady on the wheel, eyes forward as they passed the outskirts of town. The familiar streets, shops, and houses blurred past her like background noise.
Griff didn’t say much. She was grateful for that. His presence was enough.
A left turn onto her road, and her chest tightened. A few houses down, her place came into view.
Charred beams jutted up from the skeleton of the structure, blackened and twisted like the bones of something long dead.
The roof had collapsed entirely in the center, leaving a gaping void where her bedroom used to be.
Ash dusted the snow-patched ground. The front porch had caved in, the railing splintered, sagging like a snapped spine.
The air still carried a faint, bitter scent of smoke.
She parked at the edge of the property and shut off the engine. For a long moment, she didn’t move. Just stared at the wreckage.
Her home—her place, the one spot she’d finally let herself settle into—was nothing but ruin.
Beside her, Griff stayed quiet, waiting. Letting her breathe. And she needed to. Because if she didn’t, the grief might drown her before she even got out of the car.
Lily opened the door and stepped out, boots crunching over scorched gravel and ash. The cold bit through her coat, but she barely felt it.
Griff rounded the front of the SUV and fell into step beside her. Neither of them spoke as they scanned the area. The lot was empty. No neighbors outside, no cars on the road, no footprints except their own.
Still, Lily kept her eyes on the tree line.
The fire had cleared some of the brush near the back of the property, but shadows clung to the undergrowth. Anyone could be out there—watching. Waiting.
Griff’s posture mirrored hers: alert, eyes sharp, hand never far from his weapon.
They stepped over fallen debris and broken boards. The front of the house had been reduced to skeletal framing and mounds of charred rubble. She spotted the bent remnants of her coffee table, the warped edges of what used to be a bookshelf. Most of it was unrecognizable.
But not all.
“That used to be the hall mirror,” she murmured, nodding toward a jagged frame buried under blackened drywall. “And that—” she pointed to a lump of scorched fabric, “that was the armchair I found at a thrift shop for twenty bucks.”
Griff looked over the wreckage, then back to her. “Anything worth digging for?”
“There was a metal lockbox in my closet. Fireproof. Supposedly.” She gave a weak smile. “Had my old SAPD badge, some documents, a few personal things.”
“Let’s find it,” he said simply.
They moved toward what used to be her bedroom, picking their way carefully across the debris. But before they reached it, the distant hum of an engine broke the silence.
Lily’s head snapped up, and Griff immediately stepped in front of her, body angled protectively as they both turned toward the road. A second later, a truck rolled into view.
Rhett’s.
Griff didn’t relax. Neither did she. Not until the vehicle came to a slow stop at the edge of the property and the driver’s door creaked open.
Lily felt her stomach tighten. “What the hell is he doing here?” she muttered.
Rhett climbed out of the truck and walked toward them, his pace stiff but not from the gunshot wound. It was his posture, the way he held himself like he had something to prove. Just as he always did.
Lily didn’t move. Neither did Griff.
“I’m invested in this investigation too,” Rhett said as he drew closer. “I got shot because of it, remember?”
Lily didn’t answer. The fact that she couldn’t trust him—someone who used to wear the same badge—twisted something in her gut.
She wanted to believe he was here for answers.
For the truth. But the timing was too perfect.
The tension too thick. And she couldn’t shake the feeling that he might be here to gloat.
Or stir up trouble.
“It’s all over town,” Rhett went on, glancing toward the charred remains of her house before returning his gaze to her. “Word is you’re hauling in Everett and Catherine Langston for questioning.” He scoffed. “Everett’s too much of a pussy to have killed Hannah.”
Lily stayed silent. She wasn’t going to dignify that with a response, not when it was delivered with the same casual venom Rhett used to throw around in every direction.
Rhett huffed, frustrated with her silence. “We’re on the same side, you know. I want justice served as much as you do.”
Griff stepped forward, his tone even. “What about your legacy?”
Anger lit Rhett’s eyes like a match to dry brush. He looked between them, jaw clenched. “It was obviously a mistake coming here,” he muttered. “Fuck this. Fuck you.” He turned on his heel and made his way back to the truck.
Neither Lily nor Griff said a word as he climbed in and slammed the door. The engine roared to life, and within seconds, the truck was gone, spitting gravel behind it.
Lily exhaled slowly, the tightness in her chest not easing. She still had no idea what Rhett really wanted. But one thing was clear. Whatever side he claimed to be on, he was only out for himself.
They stepped carefully through the wreckage, ash and broken glass crunching beneath their boots. The air smelled of damp smoke and something sharp, metallic. Lily kept her eyes low, scanning the blackened remains of what had once been her bedroom.
Then she saw it.
The corner of a scorched rug had curled back, revealing the fireproof lockbox beneath it. The paint was blistered, but the box itself looked intact. She crouched, brushed away some debris, and pried it loose. It was warm, but it didn’t burn.
Lily tucked it under her arm and slowly stood, her eyes sweeping over the rubble one last time. There wasn’t much else left. The mirror was shattered. Her dresser had collapsed under a beam. Anything that hadn’t burned had been soaked through or warped beyond recognition.
“This is it,” she said quietly.
Beside her, Griff nodded. “You squared away with the insurance company?”
“Yeah,” she said. “Fully covered. I might rebuild.” She glanced back at the ruin of her porch. “Eventually. In the meantime, I’ll need to find a place to rent.”
Griff opened his mouth, and she knew exactly what he was about to say. You can stay with me. As long as you want.
She didn’t let him.
“Don’t say it,” she said, giving him a look as she adjusted the weight of the box in her arms. “You’ve already done more than enough.”
He raised a brow but didn’t argue.
She didn’t want to spell it out. Not here, not now. But they both knew the truth. After that kiss, staying under his roof any longer than necessary would be playing with a different kind of fire.
And after everything she’d already lost, she wasn’t sure she could handle getting burned again.
With that thought racing through her head, Lily shifted her weight, about to step over a collapsed section of drywall…
When the shot blasted through the air.
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