Page 105 of Begin Again

“She won’t be,” Orion says firmly. “She thinks she’s untouchable. That’s when people like her make mistakes. And when she does, we’ll be there to catch her.”

I want to believe him. I want to trust that this will end the way it’s supposed to. But Aubrey’s been outsmarting people for years—decades, even. What if tomorrow isn’t the clean resolution we’re hoping for? What if we can’t get her to confess?

I look at the map on the table, at the way the cemetery is neatly marked with red and blue dots. Valkyrie’s soft snoring fills the room, and for a moment, I let myself focus on that sound instead of the buzzing tension around me.

“And you think it’s safe to go tomorrow?” I ask finally.

Orion’s gaze softens, and for a second, I see a flicker of concern in his eyes. “I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. Just don’t accept food or a drink from her, every person she’s killed so far has been killed by poison. The chance of her pulling a knife or a gun on you is slim to none.”

I glance at Valkyrie, at the peaceful rise and fall of her chest. “If you’re sure then I trust you,” I say quietly.

Because no matter how tangled this web gets, I can’t let Aubrey walk away from this. Not after everything she’s done.

The tension inside the house is suffocating, so I grab a mug from the kitchen—one of my favorites that says “not today, satan” on it—and fill it with water. I need air, and space to think. Without saying anything to the FBI agents or Orion, I slip out the back door onto the covered porch.

The cold air hits me immediately, a sharp contrast to the suffocating heat of too many bodies in a small space. I grip the mug in both hands, staring out into the dark. Somewhere in the distance, the town is quiet, oblivious to the fact that tomorrow, everything could change.

Away from the noise and planning, the suffocating heat of too many bodies in my space. Out here, it’s easier to breathe.

I settle into the double rocking chair, tucking my knees up, the mug of water in my hands as I let my gaze wander to the small, fenced yard. Valkyrie’s toys are scattered across it—chewed-up tennis balls, a tug rope, and, of course, the random shiny things she’s dragged home from who-knows-where. My little magpie in Doberman form.

I take a slow sip of water and let my mind drift. It’s been a whirlwind these past few months. Leaving my ex had felt like a leap off a cliff, but I’d needed to escape, to start over somewhere far away. I hope he’s having the time of his life ‘living the single life the navy provided’ him while we were still together. To think he wanted me to move out of the primary bedroom to the smaller room across the hall. All so he could have other women over, in the bed I bought, in the townhome under my name. After a parting shot of ‘I hope you get everything you wished for’ I broke the lease leaving him to find a new place of his own. After briefly staying with my brother at his tiny apartment in D.C., I got to move to this small town, one I’d never even heard of, and it was the perfect blank slate.

And then Valkyrie happened. A failed TSA dog with too much personality and an obsession with shiny objects. I’d adopted her from my brother’s insistence, thinking maybe having her around would help me feel less alone and protect me in a way that he couldn’t. She’s been my constant—my goofy, loyal shadow through everything.

Meeting Theo was…unexpected. I hadn’t planned on finding the type of friends I did here, hadn’t planned on finding people who felt like home. And uncovering that his sweet, doting aunt was actually a serial killer? Well, that was pulled straight out of a bad crime novel. If someone had told me six months ago that I’d end up here—sitting on this porch, sipping water from a mug, planning to help the FBI arrest a serial killer—I’d have laughed in their face.

I trace the rim of the mug with my finger, staring out at the yard. Where does it go from here? After tomorrow, after Aubrey? What happens then?

The creak of the back door interrupts my thoughts. I glance over my shoulder as Theo steps outside, a thick blanket draped over one arm. His dark hair is a mess like he’s been running his fingers through it, and there’s a quiet sort of tiredness in his eyes. But when he looks at me, his expression softens.

“Orion said you were back here,” he says, his voice warm and low.

I smile faintly. “Needed some air. There are too many people inside.”

“I get that,” He walks over, nodding toward the chair I’m curled up in. “Move over.”

I blink at him. “What?”

He lifts the blanket in his hands. “You’re hogging the best seat in the house. And you clearly don’t know how to stay warm out here.”

I roll my eyes but shift over anyway, making room for him. He sits beside me, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating off him even before he drapes the blanket over both of us. I didn’t even realize how cold I had gotten. He lifts his arm, an unspoken invitation, and I hesitate for only a second before shifting to his side. His arm settles around my shoulders, and the weight of it is grounding, steady.

“Better?” he murmurs.

I nod, relaxing against him, letting the gentle rocking motion of the chair lull some of the tension from my muscles.

Theo exhales, shifting slightly. “This thing is comfortable. What are we even sitting in?”

“A double rocking chair,” I answer, a small smile tugging at my lips.

He makes a thoughtful noise. “I need one of these for my place.”

I laugh softly. “I got it for Valkyrie. She’s a velcro dog—always has to be touching me. I figured if I was going to sit outside with her, I might as well be comfortable.”

Theo glances at the screen door, where Valkyrie is still watching us, her top teeth peeking out as she presses her nose against it. “Guess you’re not the only one with a shadow.”

I hum in agreement, absently tracing the rim of my mug again. For a while, we just sit there, rocking gently, the quiet between us comfortable. But the weight of tomorrow still lingers.

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