Page 69 of The Library

Before I leave, I lean down, pressing a kiss to her forehead, breathing her in one last time. “Don’t leave the house while I’m gone,” I murmur, my voice firm but softer than it should be. “I need to know you’re safe. I’ll be back soon.”

She nods, her eyes still heavy with exhaustion, but there’s a flicker of something else—something that mirrors what I feel. Neither of us wants me to go. Not now. Not after what we’ve been through together tonight. Not after how she gave herself to me, completely.

But I have no choice.

As I step out into the night, heading for the shadows where my real work lives, I can’t shake the feeling that this is different. That I’m leaving more than just a body behind. I’m leaving a piece of myself with her, and I already can’t wait to get back.

The motorcycle engine growls to life as I pull out of the driveway, the streets blending into a blur as I push harder, faster. The job has always been a part of who I am, but tonight, it feels like an interruption. A disturbance in something that, for the first time, I don’t want to tear apart.

Lilith is different. And it’s killing me to leave her behind, ever. This job… hell, all of this could have waited. But now I’ve been pulled back into the storm. And for the first time in years, the storm is the last place I want to be.

Lilith

The days crawl by slower than I ever could’ve imagined. Four fucking days trapped in Sebastian’s house, waiting around like some obedient pet. I hate it. I hate that I’m actually listening to him, sitting still just because he told me to. But more than that, I hate the way his words stick with me, lingering in my head every time I breathe.

And yet, I stay.

Because there’s something else here, between us. Something I can’t put into words but feel in every inch of my body. It’s not just his control over me, not just the game of cat and mouse we’ve been playing. It’s deeper than that. He’s under my skin, in my blood, and no matter how much I try to shake it, I can’t. It’s not just about the way he makes me feel when he touches me—it’s the way my soul aches for him when he’s gone.

It’s not just an obsession anymore. It’s something darker, something more twisted, and it terrifies me. But I’m just as caught up in it as he is. I’m just as obsessed with him as he is with me. Maybe more.

And that’s why I stay. Even though I hate waiting, hate feeling like I’m losing control, I can’t bring myself to leave. Because as much as I want to be free of him, I want him back here with me more.

I close my eyes and breathe him in, the faint scent of him still lingering in the sheets. And I know, no matter how fucked up this is, I need him.

Why does he always say that before he leaves? It’s like he knows something I don’t, like there’s this hidden threat I can’t quite see. And I’m stuck here, in this empty, quiet house, trying to figure out what it is. The minutes stretch into hours, the silence pressing in on me like a weight I can’t shake.

Sure, there are guards posted around the property, keeping watch. And then there’s Henry—the so-called housekeeper. Though, let’s be real, he’s more than just that. I’m almost certain he’s part of the Society. He doesn’t just clean the house; he handles the other messes, the ones left behind in the basement. The ones I don’t like to think about.

Every minute that ticks by, my frustration grows. It’s like I’m being kept in the dark, told just enough to keep me complacent but never the whole story. I can feel it in my bones—there’s more going on, more than I’m being told.

It’s not that I don’t love the comfort of his place—I feel at home here now. But I’m starting to feel like a prisoner again. Like I’ve traded one set of chains for another again. He hasn’t even checked in. Four days, and nothing. Not a single text. No explanation. No idea when he’s coming back. It has me questioning his feelings for me. Fuck, I don’t even know if he’s actually capable of having feelings or if it’s just a fucked up illusion, another mind game.

I sit on the edge of his bed, running my hands through my hair, staring at the door like I expect him to walk through it at any second. But he doesn’t. The silence is deafening, and the more I think about it, the more my anger festers. I want to scream. I want to cry. I’m pissed off and sad all at the same time. I’ve completely lost myself in him. It’s exactly what he wants.

I sigh, tossing my phone on the bed and staring up at the ceiling, trying to shake the thoughts out of my head. I’ve been texting Anna, trying to distract myself from the constant tension building inside me. She and Ty are official now, which doesn’t surprise me. They’ve been dancing around each other for a while, but I hadn’t expected her to dive headfirst into a relationship with a guy like Ty. Just like Sebastian, Ty is dangerous. And just like Sebastian, Ty’s involved in whatever the hell “the Society” really is.

But the kicker? Anna knows. Ty told her. About the Society. About the assignments.

Meanwhile, I’m sitting here, waiting, in the dark, while Sebastian keeps me at arm’s length, guarding his secrets like they’re fucking gold.

I grab my phone, scrolling through the texts between Anna and me from the past few days. Most of it is about her and Ty—how hot their sex life is, how intense he can be in bed. I’ve told her bits and pieces about Sebastian, even admitted that he took my virginity, but I’ve kept the details vague. What’s happening between me and Sebastian feels too raw, too dark, to share. I don’t even fully understand it myself.

But then there’s this one text from Anna that keeps gnawing at me. It was casual, almost a throwaway comment:

Do you know how long this assignment will take for Ty and Sebastian?

The words sent a jolt through me when I first read them. Anna knows about the assignment. She knows Ty’s secrets. The Society’s secrets. Meanwhile, Sebastian keeps me in the dark, like I’m some fragile little girl who can’t handle the truth.

And that pisses me off more than anything.

Why does Anna get to know everything while I’m left guessing? Why does Ty trust her with the truth, but Sebastian doesn’t trust me? What the hell am I even doing here if hedoesn’t think I’m strong enough to handle whatever world he’s involved in?

My blood boils as I toss my phone down again. I’ve had enough of this. I’m not a delicate fucking flower. I can handle the truth, even if it’s dark, even if it’s twisted. What I can’t handle is being treated like I’m too weak to understand what’s really going on.

I know he was starting to let me in when he took me to the basement, when he fucked me in that chair, showing me a piece of the darkness. But it’s not enough. He tells me just enough to keep me satisfied, but never the whole truth. It’s like he’s feeding me breadcrumbs, and I’m supposed to be content with that. Well, I’m not. Every step only fuels the fire in my chest. Why hasn’t he told me anything? Why am I sitting here, waiting for him like an obedient little toy, when he hasn’t even bothered to let me in on his life?

I grab my phone again, my fingers shaking with anger as I open a new text. Seconds later, I’m texting Anna again, my mind already made up.

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