Page 58 of Crown of Lies

“Hey.” Her voice comes through, sounding slightly distracted. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual. “Any updates from Victor? Has he found anything new?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Hold on, let me go ask him.”

I hear muffled voices in the background, and then Willow is back. “Vic says whoever did this covered their tracks better thanhe expected. He’s still digging, but so far, it’s been tough to find any solid leads.”

I let out a frustrated sigh. “Damn. I was hoping for something more concrete by now.”

“Listen, Quinn…” Willow’s voice takes on a serious tone. “Are you sure you want to pull at this thread? When people go to this much trouble to hide who they are, it’s probably for a reason. You need to be careful.”

I sit up straighter, my attention fully focused. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, whoever you’re messing with here, they’re not amateurs,” Willow says, her voice low. “They know how to cover their tracks, how to stay hidden. That kind of ability usually comes with a lot of money or a lot of well-connected contacts. Probably both.”

I chew on my lip, considering her words. “So you think I should back off?”

“I’m just saying, be smart about this.”

I lean back against the porch railing, considering Willow’s words. “It’s a little late to be careful,” I mutter, more to myself than to her. “But thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

“I’m serious,” Willow insists. “Just… watch your back, okay?”

Before I can respond, I hear a muffled commotion in the background. Willow’s voice becomes distant as she calls out, “Ransom! Don’t you dare?—”

There’s a squeal, followed by Willow’s breathless laughter. “Stop it, you goof!”

I can’t make out Ransom’s response, but whatever he says makes Willow gasp. “Oh my god, you did not just?—”

A twinge of something that feels suspiciously like envy shoots through me. The easy affection in their voices, the playful back and forth without a care in the world for who might overhear—it paints a picture of the kind of happiness I’ve never reallyconsidered for myself. I shake my head, brushing off the feeling. That’s not what I want… is it?

“Sorry about that,” Willow says, slightly out of breath as she returns to the phone. “The guys are being… well, guys.”

I force a laugh, hoping it sounds genuine. “Sounds like you’ve got your hands full.”

“You have no idea,” she replies, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “Anyway, I promise to keep you updated if we find anything new. Just be careful, okay?”

“I will,” I assure her. “Thanks, Willow. For everything.”

As I hang up, I can’t shake the image of Willow surrounded by her men, all of them happy and in love. It’s a stark contrast to my current situation, and for a moment, I allow myself to wonder what it might be like to have that kind of connection.

But I quickly push the thought aside. I have more important things to focus on right now. Finding answers about my dad, figuring out who’s behind all this—that’s what matters. Everything else is just a distraction.

I shake off the lingering thoughts from my conversation with Willow and head inside the house. As soon as I step through the door, something feels off. I can’t quite put my finger on it at first, but there’s a shift in the air that sets my nerves on edge.

My hand hovers near the light switch, but I hesitate. The silence feels thick, oppressive. I strain my ears, listening for any sound out of place. There’s nothing obvious, no creaking floorboards or muffled movements. And yet…

A chill runs down my spine as I realize I’m not alone.

There’s no logical reason, no clear evidence. But every instinct I have is screaming that someone else is in here with me.

I take a deep breath, forcing my racing heart to slow down. I’m pretty sure I’ve fooled whoever’s in here into thinking they’re still safe. I need to keep it that way until I figure out where the hell they are.

With deliberate casualness, I flick on the light switch. “Home sweet home,” I mutter to myself, loud enough for anyone hiding to hear.

I shrug off my jacket, hanging it on the hook by the door. My eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of disturbance. Nothing seems out of place, but that doesn’t mean much.

I move into the kitchen, my footsteps echoing in the quiet house. Opening the fridge, I grab a bottle of water, using the moment to scan the room behind me in the reflection of the stainless steel door.

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