Page 62 of Wrecked for Love
I drove faster than I ever had, adrenaline taking over, my mind spiraling.
When I pulled into the gas station, I barely had time to turn off the truck before Claire slammed herself against me and hugged me like she’d never let go. I could feel the tremors shaking her body. I was still furious about what Log had told me, but I couldn’t deal with any of that now. Not when she needed me like this.
I let her hold me. For now. The rest…we’d deal with later.
“Leave your car here. Come with me,” I said, yanking open the passenger door. Claire hesitated for a second, her eyes wide with fear, but she climbed in.
We drove in silence to The Willow. I could feel my pulse pounding in my ears, my emotions simmering just beneath the surface. We pulled up at the doomed cottage in no time.
Claire was fighting herself between wanting to get out and staying in the car. Eventually, she jumped out. I did too. My foot landed on a pack of sunflower seeds. It was too cold to be working in the gardens, so maybe she’d already started planning her indoor nursery.
Gingerly, Claire opened the cottage door.
The place was spotless. No sign of a struggle. No blood. No body.
“Claire?” I barked, my frustration boiling over. “What kind of game are you trying to play?”
She looked at me, her desperate blue eyes cutting through. I’d always dreaded losing her, and today might be that day. But I wasn’t one to be played—by her or anyone else.
“Elia! I swear, he was here! I hit him with a hammer!”
The most dangerous criminals aren’t just liars. They’re storytellers, weaving deception so seamlessly that it feels like truth. She was one of them. And my God, I’d fallen in love with her!
“There’s nothing here, Claire!” I shouted. “No hammer, no blood, no Armand! What the hell am I supposed to believe?” My eyes stayed on her, trying to show her that this was about more than Armand Voss. It was about believing in her, in everything she had told me since that night she ended up stranded on my property.
“Elia, you’ve got to believe me!” she pleaded, her steps closing the distance between us.
I jerked back, her touch suddenly unbearable. Then I caught the outline of her gun against her waist.
“Don’t you even think about playing tough,” I warned. She hadn’t just deceived me—she was armed and deadly.
My brain scrambled to make sense of everything. Claire. She was never the sweet type. She had layers, and that was part of her pull. But now, I’d uncovered a layer I didn’t want to believe—one that was lethal. Two deaths. Were there more? I didn’t want to know. It was a miracle I was still breathing—maybe because I still had my use.
“I killed Armand Voss,” she repeated, emphasizing every word.
Standing there, stiff and unyielding, her Ruger resting at her side, her face pale as ice, I could see the sinister layer beneath the desperation.
Did she really take out the younger Voss? I doubted it. The man was twice her size and wouldn’t think twice about crushing anyone, man or woman.
Maybe this was her twisted setup all along—luring me into a fight with my worst enemy so she could slip away, free and clear.
“You know what? Stay away from me!” My finger shook as I pointed at her and backed away. Trusting her was no longer an option.
She followed. “If you want nothing to do with me, fine, but you’re in danger. They’re coming for you, Elia!”
I should’ve cared. I should’ve listened. But the only danger I saw? It was standing right in front of me.
“The Vosses? They always come for me, Claire. But the real threat? It’s you.” The déjà vu struck me so hard that I almost stumbled. I’d known it before. Felt it deep in my gut. Ignored it.
Her expression tightened, too calculated for an innocent person. I watched her, gauging the shift. Was this her testing if I’d bend? Or was it anger the moment she realized I wasn’t falling for it?
I leveled her with a hard stare as I backed off. “Stay. The. Hell. Away!”
Not until I hit the porch steps did I turn, half-running back to my truck.
The crunch under my boot stopped me—another run-in with the sunflower seed packet. So small but unforgettable. It shouldn’t have mattered, but the sound and feel underfoot taunted me, a reminder of how tiny things can unravel everything.
Even the road felt foreign, like I wasn’t in Buffaloberry Hill anymore, with my thoughts darting in and out. By the time I reached The Lazy Moose, Koda’s bark greeted me like an accusation.
