Page 107 of Knotting With A Stranger

“Oh my God,” I breathe, my mind racing with possibilities.

25

LILY

Without another word, Archer and I are both on our feet from the couch and racing toward the basement door off the kitchen. Thor barks excitedly, following as we thunder down the wooden stairs into the cool, dimly lit space below.

I’ve been down here before—James showed me the freezers where Hunter stores game meat, and I’d joked nervously about it being the perfect place to hide bodies. The basement is utilitarian—concrete floor, exposed beams overhead, walls constructed of fieldstone and mortar. Two large chest freezers hum against one wall. Shelves lined with emergency supplies occupy another wall, while tools hang in neat rows above a workbench in the corner.

“Start checking the walls,” Archer instructs, already running his hands over the rough stone surface. “Look for anything unusual—loose stones, hollow sounds, weird patterns.”

I move to the opposite wall, tapping and pressing methodically. “I can’t believe he buried it in the house. It’s pretty genius.”

“It’s kind of amazing they knew each other at all. What are the odds?”

We check every inch of wall space. “It’s not here,” I finally say, leaning back against the wall in defeat. “Maybe we misunderstood what she meant, or—” My elbow presses against what should be solid stone but instead gives slightly. I freeze, then press again, harder. Something shifts behind me.

“Archer! I think I found something!”

He rushes over as I examine the stone more closely. It looks identical to those surrounding it, but when I push, it moves inward slightly. Archer joins me, both of us pressing against the stone until we hear a faint mechanical click.

A section of wall about three feet wide swings inward, revealing a dark space beyond.

Just then, heavy footsteps sound overhead, followed by voices calling our names.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Hunter growls.

“Get your damn asses down here now!” Archer shouts back. “The treasure was in the house the whole time!”

Thunderous footfalls rush down the stairs. Hunter appears first, his tall frame filling the doorway, followed closely by James. Both men look exhausted, faces wind-burned, with small cuts and forming bruises visible on their exposed skin.

“You’re back,” I say, relief flooding through me so intensely it makes my knees weak. I move toward them without thinking, needing to confirm with my own hands that they’re really okay.

James catches me first, strong arms wrapping around me in a tight embrace that lifts me slightly off the ground. “Told you I’d be back,” he murmurs against my hair, his voice rough withfatigue but warm with something else—something that makes my heart flutter.

Hunter steps in as James releases me, his large hand wrapped around me. “Everything’s fine,” he assures me, pressing his lips to mine. “Got the map back, sorted Travis out.”

I examine them both more closely, noting the way James favors his right side and how Hunter winces slightly when he turns too quickly. “You’re hurt,” I accuse, hands fluttering over them uselessly. “Both of you.”

“Just bruised,” James dismisses. “Nothing serious.”

“What happened?” I ask, eyes scanning them both for hidden injuries.

“Later,” Hunter says, his attention caught by the open stone door. “What the hell is that?” He points to the secret compartment in his wall.

Archer quickly explains our discovery—the call with my grandmother, the revelation about his grandfather’s true treasure plan.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Hunter groans, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “It was in the house the whole time? That’s exactly the kind of thing Grandfather would do!”

“The old man had a twisted sense of humor,” James adds.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” Archer urges, gesturing to the opening. “Let’s see what’s inside!”

Hunter produces a flashlight from a nearby shelf, and we crowd around the narrow opening as he goes in. The beam illuminates a tiny, confined space, no larger than a closet, carved directly into the foundation. Against the back wall sits an old wooden chest, its brass fittings tarnished with age.

“My God,” Hunter whispers, stepping carefully into the space. “It’s really here.”

The chest isn’t locked. Hunter kneels before it, hands shaking as he lifts the heavy lid. Golden light seems to spill out as it opens, reflecting off the flashlight beam.

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