Page 82 of Creeping Lily
She doesn’t see me at first, still caught up in whatevermemory has her in its grip. But the moment she hears my footsteps, her head jerks up. Recognition floods her face, her eyes going wide. Lily scrambles to her feet, the bench scraping against the pavement, but she’s too slow—no match for my speed and training.
“Don’t,” I warn, my voice sharp as I close the distance, warning her not to scream. Not to run.
Her head shakes, fear flickering across her features, but it’s too late. My hand moves fast, pulling the cloth from the waistband of my jeans. I press it to her face, cutting off the panicked sound that escapes her lips. Her hands claw at mine, desperate, but the fight fades quickly. Her body goes limp, collapsing into my arms.
I catch her easily, my grip firm but careful as I half-carry, half-drag her toward the car. My heart pounds, not from exertion but from the gravity of what I’m doing. I open the back door, easing her into the seat and buckling the belt across her. I’m not stupid—I’ve thought this through. The last thing I need is to get pulled over because I didn’t follow some basic rule of the road.
The scent of chloroform lingers faintly as I slide into the driver’s seat, stealing a glance at her in the rearview mirror. Her head rests against the seat, her expression soft and unguarded in unconsciousness. Vulnerable. It’s a side of her she never lets anyone see—not willingly, anyway.
The quiet streets blur past as I drive, the weight of what I’ve done settling over me like a lead blanket. I grip the steering wheel tighter, my knuckles whitening. This is for us, I tell myself. It has to be.
Each mile feels like an eternity, the road stretching endlessly before me. My eyes flick to the mirror again. She looks so peaceful, so fragile. It twists something in my chest, but I shove it down. There’s no room for doubt now.
I’ve come too far to turn back.
The mansion looms ahead, its spires piercing the dimming sky like jagged teeth. The silhouette is a haunting masterpiece, every shadowed edge dripping with foreboding elegance. White stone, once pristine, now carries the weight of centuries, its faded surface mottled with patches of ivy that cling to it like desperate fingers. The heavy oak doors at the front seem to sag under their own age, carved deeply with grooves that whisper of storms weathered and secrets held.
I glance toward the backseat, half-wishing Lily were awake to see it. The house isn’t just a place—it’s a promise, a sanctuary,and a cage.She stirs faintly as I park, her brow knitting in restless dreams, but she doesn’t wake.
Her weight is light in my arms as I carry her through the grand archway, past narrow windows veiled in creeping ivy. The air inside is cool, still, heavy with the scent of aged wood and a faint tang of damp stone. The hallway stretches endlessly ahead, the vaulted ceiling soaring above like a cathedral. Each step I take on the creaking floorboards feels like a confession whispered to the house itself.
She frowns in her sleep as I lay her on the bed I prepare for her. The room is simple but warm, its dark wood furniture polished to a quiet sheen. I pull the blanket over her, tucking it around her with a care that feels at odds with the weight of what I’ve done. For a moment, I stand there, staring at her peaceful face, wondering what it will look like when she wakes—when realization sets in.
The chair in the corner is where I spend the night, my shadow stretched long against the walls as the last light fades. I watch her chest rise and fall, her breath steady and soft. Guilt gnaws at me, sharp and persistent, but it doesn’t outweigh the determination that keeps me rooted here. This is the right thing to do. It has to be.
She’s been drowning in her past, caught in its undertow. I’m saving her. Rescuing her from herself, from the danger that stalks her like a vulture. I tell myself it’s love that drives me, that it’s the desperate need to protect her that brought us here. But the words feel hollow, like the echo of a truth I’m too afraid to face.
My gaze drifts back to her. Vulnerable, beautiful, completely unaware. Doubts creep in like thieves, stealing my resolve piece by piece. Maybe I’ve gone too far. Maybe this is the line I shouldn’t have crossed. But then I see her face, so peaceful in sleep, and the doubts shrink to whispers.
No one can touch her here. No one can hurt her. No one but me.
And I will be everything she needs. Her protector, her destroyer. Her breath and her blood, her life and her death. By the time I’m done, there won’t be a man alive who could stand in my shadow when it comes to her. Lily Snow was born to be mine, and mine alone.
A soft groan pulls me from my thoughts. Her eyes flutter open, unfocused at first, then sharpening as confusion sets in. I rise silently, my hoodie casting a shadow over my masked face. She blinks, her gaze fixing on me, and I see the moment that recognition flickers through her.
She sits up slowly, her hands gripping the edge of the blanket as though it might anchor her to reality. Her eyes dart around the room, searching for answers that aren’t there. Fear creeps in, subtle at first, then blossoming as realization takes root.
“Welcome home, Lily,” I murmur, my voice low and deliberate.
Her brow furrows, her lips parting as if to speak, but no words come. Questions race through her expression—what isthis place, how did she get here,whyis she here? But she doesn’t ask them.
Her fear is palpable, but there’s something else too. A flicker of anger, of defiance, that sends a thrill coursing through me. This is what I want—her fire, her fight. It won’t be easy to break, but I don’t want easy. I wantherin all her beautiful, messy chaos.
She meets my gaze, her breath shallow but steady, her fear giving way to a fragile sort of resolve. I feel it, the unspoken challenge in her stare.
Good. Let her fight. Let her try to unravel the threads of this new reality. In the end, there’s only one truth she’ll come to understand.
She’s mine. And no one—not even Lily herself—can change that.
“Where am I?”
The question hangs in the air between us, heavy with implications neither of us are prepared to face.
I have to unravel the tangled web of half-truths and desperate measures that have led us to this moment. I know that when I’m done, Lily’s fear will probably slowly give way to the chilling realization that the danger she faces might not be from the outside, but from the secrets buried within her. When I tell her everything, I could lose her forever. Hell, I probably will. But the truth begs to be told, consequences be damned.
Because there is no going back now. I’ve brought her this far. I set my whole life aside and laid this out for her. Eventually, she’s going to know everything; I don’t know what delaying the inevitable will achieve. Except maybe I can keep her near me just a little bit longer. Like she was always meant to be.
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