Chapter 40 – Lily
LILY
Cold air nips at my cheeks, dead leaves crunch beneath my boots, and my thigh burns from the sweat dripping against my marking. “I really hope this whole hiking for research is not a recurring thing.”
“You know…” He gasps an inhale as we scale the steepest incline to exist without being a goddamn rock-climbing route. “I might have to agree with you on that one.”
“Honestly, I find no joy in being right about this.”
“Did you find any more info on the cabin during our drive over?”
“I couldn’t find anything aside from it being owned by the shell corporation, which I also found nothing further about. It’s like the place doesn’t exist.”
We arrive at the tree line, spotting the small wooden structure situated in the center of an empty lot. No vehicles parked outside. No lights on. The grass is overgrown and browning from the first cold snaps of winter.
“Looks like Liam’s intel may be right,” Aster says.
I release a sigh, my breath coming out in a white puff. “Let’s hope so.”
“How far are we from the Westerfords’?”
“From the map earlier, it looked like two or three miles.”
Aster pulls out his knife, and I retrieve Violet’s gun from my waistband. Aster’s eyes narrow in on it. “What the hell are you doing with that?”
“What do you mean?” My brows furrow. “It’s a gun. I’m using it to protect us.”
“No.” His voice is firm. “No guns.”
“You think it’ll be too loud?”
He releases a steady breath, eyes meeting mine. “I really don’t like guns.”
My jaw drops. “You’re a serial killer who doesn’t like guns?”
He shrugs. “It feels like a cheat.”
“Okay, but how is that going to work when our enemies are cheating and we’re left with a measly dagger and a kitchen knife?”
He scoffs, angling his knife towards me. “This is not a kitchen knife. It’s a hunting knife.”
“Mmmm. I suppose that would make more sense.”
“Listen,” he says as we approach the front steps. “I can share more about my gun trauma later, but for now, I’d just really feel more comfortable if you use the dagger instead.”
Rolling my eyes, I reluctantly cave, holstering the gun and pulling out the blade. “In that case”—I gesture towards the door—“after you.”
He shoots me a smug smile, pulling out his lock picking kit. Despite there being no visible cameras, a tingling awareness raises my arm hair. The door opens with a click, and Aster turns the handle, letting us inside.
The moment the door shuts behind us, my breath stutters. The cabin entirely lacks that stale air smell it should have if the place were truly abandoned. Scents of lavender, lemon, and bergamot surround me, and I breathe deeply through my nose. Then tears prick my eyes.
“What’s wrong?” Aster asks from halfway across the room, concern etched in his features.
The essence envelops me in a way that’s almost suffocating. “It smells like her.”
“What?”
“This cabin.” I glance around, vision blurry. “It smells like Violet.”
There’s an old sofa in the corner with a wooden nightstand.
A coffee table with a few comic books on it.
Turning, I find boots by the door. They look small.
Could be women’s. My chest tightens as I walk further into the house.
There’s a door, and I open it, finding a coat closet.
It becomes harder to breathe. A denim jacket with a winged design painted on the back hangs in the closet.
The same jacket she had on the day she died.
I reach out and take the fabric between my fingers. Having a mind of its own, my hand pulls the jacket off the hanger and brings it to my nose. I inhale deeply, choking a sob on the exhale.
It’s hers. It must be.
I jump in place, heart lurching into my throat, as Aster rests his hand on my waist, yanking me back to reality. “Lily, what’s going on?”
I angle the jacket towards him. “This was hers.”
“Do you want to take it with us?” he asks, but all I can think of is seeing the back of it as she walked out the door of that bar. That’s all this jacket will ever make me think about.
“No.” I shake my head, rehanging it in the closet. “Let’s keep looking.”
We enter the kitchen, and on the table rests an abandoned coffee cup and a Solarium newspaper.
“Aster.” I hold the paper out to him. “This is from a few weeks ago.”
We both freeze, eyes meeting. “I don’t think this place is as abandoned as we thought.”
“Do you think Violet was taken here before they killed her?”
“Could explain the presence of her jacket and shoes.”
A crashing sound comes from outside the window, and my heart stops. We turn towards it, and a shadow passes in a split second.
“Stay here,” Aster commands, and he’s through the house and out the front door without another word. I’m a second behind him, but he’s already halfway across the overgrown lot, running towards the woods.
A gunshot rings out, and he freezes.
Please, no.
No, no, no, no, no.
He spins, eyes wide, and runs in my direction, barreling into me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, hands flying over every inch of my body.
“I’m fine.” I peer around him. “Why did you stop chasing them?”
His brows furrow. “I thought you’d been shot!”
“And I thought you’d been shot!” Another bang goes off, and we both flinch.
“Come on.” He throws an arm around me and ushers me towards the forest. “Someone does not like us being here.”
“But we don’t have any answers,” I argue, turning back towards the house. Back to her.
I won’t go. Not when I’m this close.
“We have to leave.” Aster tugs at my arm. “Now.”
“No.” I rip out of his grasp, running towards the steps. “Her clothes are here.” Tears prick my vision. “This is the closest I’ve ever been…” A sob escapes as my boots hit the wooden porch. “To finding her. To figuring out what happened.”
As I reach the door, I’m hoisted in the air and over a broad shoulder.
“What are you doing?” I shout, banging my fists against his muscular back.
“Put me down.” Aster sprints towards the tree line, ignoring me entirely, his shoulder digging into my stomach as he goes. “I swear to God, I will stab you!”
“Then stab me,” he growls, gripping my legs tightly, and I struggle to catch my breath. “I’m not letting you get yourself killed.”
“That’s my choice.” My protests echo off the trees, and I’m aware I’m acting like a petulant child and possibly even giving away our position, but I can’t find it in me to care.
The emotions I’ve bottled inside for months are exploding like a grenade, and Aster’s the victim of the verbal shrapnel.
I’d feel bad if I weren’t so damn pissed off.
“Not today,” he barks, and my tear-filled eyes lock on the cabin. “Not if the risk is losing you.” It fades out of view as he rushes toward where we left the car, and my chest aches, heavy and dull. I was so close. So damn close.
There’s something in that cabin that could lead me to Kodak. Give me answers about Violet’s death. I can feel it.
Aster might not want me to go back… but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
My body slumps in defeat over his shoulder. After a few hundred yards, my feet finally return to the ground, and he places a hand on my waist.
“Don’t fucking touch me.” I shove him away, and he flinches, pained eyes connecting with mine. I don’t have the energy to worry about his feelings right now. Not after what he just did.
Uncomfortable silence blankets the rest of our journey, and while my mind knows he was right to make us leave, my heart aches. What if she was there? Was her body in the overgrown yard? How close was I, really?
Around dusk, we finally reach the car we left on a hidden dirt path by a lake that’s completely shielded by shrubbery. Aside from my screeching freak-out, the dense trees provided a shield the rest of our journey here.
“Are you okay?” he asks, eyes swimming with concern.
“I’m fine,” I grumble, pushing past him.
“Wait.” He grabs my wrist, pulling me to face him, and I rip away, anger thrumming through me.
Tears prick at my vision once more, and I rush forward, shoving his chest. “She was so close!” He stumbles. “The answers were right there.”
“I won’t apologize.” His tone is gentle as he creeps towards me with the carefulness of approaching a wounded animal.
Huffing, I fold my arms over my chest. “Color me shocked. The man who does what he wants, says what he wants, kills whoever the hell he wants, won’t apologize.”
“Lily, I can’t apologize because I’m not sorry,” he says, exasperated. “What was I supposed to do? Let you run back in there and possibly get yourself killed?”
“Yes!” I throw my hands in the air.
“No.” He shakes his head, jaw tight. “You can’t choose that. You can’t risk your life like that. No way.”
“And why the hell not? It’s. My. Life.” I can’t fathom why Violet’s dead and I’m still here.
Why fate decided her time was up, yet mine must carry on, day by day, simply missing her.
We did everything together. Surely, we could have ascended to the afterlife together too.
I’d bet there’s a party in hell waiting for us, two tequila shots at the ready.
“Because.” He drags a hand through his hair, frustration simmering. “Because you’re not thinking clearly. You’re being reckless.”
“That’s my decision to make,” I repeat like a broken record, pointing at my chest.
“Baby, don’t you understand what you’re asking of me?
” His voice cracks. “To just let you run into danger? To risk losing you?” He’s terrified of losing me, yet doesn’t blink when taking a life himself.
And while I’ve come to understand and accept his motives, what does that make me, to love a killer when a killer took the person I love?
“You’d be fine.” I wave him off, trying to suppress the guilt that courses through me at my own hypocrisy. “You deal with death every day. Hell, you are death.”