Page 54 of The Oath We Give

“Coraline.”

The way he tastes each syllable of my name as he speaks makes a shiver roll through me. He says it like he already knows I’m in trouble, like he was expecting my call.

“Silas.” I release a breath. “I need—”

I need help. I need help.

I need it, but I don’t know how to ask. How to rely on someone.

“Whatever you need, it’s already yours.”

In my darkest moments, when panic claws at my chest and threatens to consume me, it has been his voice, the memory of it, that has pulled me back from the edge time and time again.

And I have no idea why.

There is something in it, a note or a hum, something that soothes. It sings lullabies to my racing heart until it returns to a normal beat. Despite everything, I can’t deny what it does for me.

I’m nothing to him. I’ve treated him poorly, and yet, he answers. I want nothing to do with him, don’t want to get close enough to possibly hurt him, yet I keep finding it harder to stay away.

His devout willingness to help me I want to take as it is, but I can’t. Everyone wants something from you, and I want to know his angle. What does he want from me? Why help me?

“My sister is in trouble, and I don’t know how to explain it, but I think Stephen is involved. I didn’t…” I swallow the knot forming in my throat. “I didn’t know who else to call.”

This thing between us? It can’t have anything to do with Lilac. This isn’t about us or the lack thereofus; it’s about her. Silas and I share a common enemy. Calling him helps him with Stephen too.

It’s nothing but a transition between the two of us.

That is all it can be.

“Where are you.”

* * *

The sun is starting to set when I pull into Black Sands Cove. It’s about a mile trek from the asphalt parking lot to the sandy beach.

My chest aches as I see the empty parking spaces, Lilac’s car sitting all alone. I quickly get out of my vehicle, jogging to the driver-side window of the BMW and finding her phone in the passenger seat.

From this lot are three different trailheads that can take you up and down the coast, hikes that range from two miles to ten.

She could be anywhere.

I bite down on my tongue as fury heats my insides.

If Stephen took her, it will be his ruin.

I will rip him to shreds with my teeth, pick his bones one by one until he’s a pathetic meat sack. There will be nothing left of him when I’m done. I will not rest until his blood paints my palms.

My fingers tighten on my keys. Making a fist around them, I make sure one of them is striking out from the grip before I slam the side of my hand into the corner of the window. Metal colliding with glass shattering echoes in my ears.

There is a dull throb along my wrist, but I ignore it as I reach in and unlock her car from the inside. When I get the door open, I’m careful not to touch the cubes of glass scattered inside before plucking her phone from the passenger seat.

Relief pours over me when the screen lights up.

I don’t know what I’m looking for when I search it. I’m invading her privacy with no remorse, scrolling through recent text messages to see if she was supposed to meet someone here today, but find nothing.

I’m working my way through her social media apps, trying to glimpse anything that can help me figure out where she might be or who is at fault when the roar of a motorcycle rumbles in the distance.

Headlights appear as the bike pulls into the parking lot, followed by Silas’s iconic 1970 slate-gray Dodge Challenger. I’m not surprised he brought his friends with him, considering the circumstances.

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