Page 56 of The Oath We Give

“At least she knows her brands,” I hear him mutter beneath his breath.

“You want Stephen dead, right? That’s great. Me too.” I wrap the black material around my bleeding wrist as I speak. “You need to find him, and I’m your best shot at it. So either we help each other, or you get the fuck out of my way.”

Thatcher tilts his head a bit, and I swear I see a flash of respect in his gaze. “I don’t care how sad your story is. We’re doing you the favor by being here.”

I can’t help but scoff.

“So you know where he’s hiding, then? What his plan is?” I shake my head at their cluelessness. “There is no one who knows him better than me. I know how he moves, how he thinks. If you’re near me? You’re ten steps closer to him.”

“And we are supposed to take your word on that?”

I take a threatening step forward. What’s the worst this dude is going to do? Kill me? He’ll have to do a lot more than that to scare me.

The Hollow Boys are child’s play compared to what I’ve seen.

“Let him lock you in a basement for two years, then you can ask me that fucking question again.”

Thatcher’s cold eyes slit, chin lifting as he looks down at me.

“You are child’s play compared to what I’ve seen. Help or don’t.” I shrug, dismissing him with my eyes before looking away. “I’m going to find my sister.”

We are running out of daylight, and I don’t have the time or patience to argue with Thatcher Pierson. He has his reasons for being wary of me, I’m sure, but I don’t give a fuck.

I didn’t call him.

I called Silas.

And right now, I’m starting to regret that decision.

I leave them to decide what their next move is without me, heading toward the wooden dock that leads to the beach. There are caves on the far end of Black Sands Cove.

Teenagers go there to smoke pot and fuck like rabbits. Lilac is smart. If she needed to hide, it’s where she would go. I force my heart to slow, breathing through my nose and out through my mouth.

The howling wind from the ocean whirls in my ears, a salt-water-dusted breeze caressing my face as the wood turns into malleable sand. I grip the waistband of my jeans, knowing I didn’t have time to change them but wishing I had. I’m one second away from taking them off and doing this hunt in my underwear.

The roaring ocean is turbulent, rushing and crashing together, dark blues and deep oranges swatched across the darkening sky. Black Sands Cove has always held an untouchable beauty, especially when it’s empty.

“Lilac!” I scream her name in hopes her ears are close by to hear it. “Lilac!”

I’m answered only by the echoes bouncing between the pine trees to my left. There is only silence for several seconds before her name is shouted again from deep in the trees, by a deeper voice this time, followed by another, then another.

I feel bad for being so harsh, knowing they are helping, but I shake it off.

They wouldn’t be here if they weren’t getting something out of it. Remember that, Coraline. Everything comes at a price.

My throat aches as I shout her name again, chest tightening as what little hope I had starts to flutter away, leaving me to rot with panic.

I remember the pain of his strikes, how some nights I’d beg for him to hit me with his fists just so he wouldn’t hang me by the chains. I lived with a constant gnawing emptiness for food and physical connection. As if a tiny creature inhabited my insides, clawing, reminding me of what I lacked.

He’d feed me only the bare minimum to keep me alive but reliant on him, desperate for his return, even if it meant being hurt in the process.

I picture my little sister in that scenario in my head, unable to keep it out. Her blonde hair tainted with blood and dirt. Athletic, healthy body ripped away by the hands of starvation. My eyes shut, hand holding my stomach as nausea sways my body.

Her screams are all around me, shrieking, rattling my eardrums as she begs for her life. Did she scream for me when he took her? Did she wonder where I was? Was she angry I wasn’t there to protect her?

Hands are on my back, large, warm palms skating across my spine as the person who owns them circles to the front of my body. Fingers slide around my hips, not gripping, just resting on my skin.

The breeze catches the smell of tobacco and oak. The calming scent of fog-soaked earth in the forest, touched with something almost feminine. It’s so intense, so consuming, I can practically see the drops of rain slipping from pine needles.

---