Page 119 of Creeping Lily
Lily’s eyes follow the trail of his words until they land on me, pinning me in place—like she’s truly seeing me for the very first time.
“He was a bastard,” I rasp. “Like you said. And he deserved everything he got. They all did.”
“So you played executioner?” she screams. “How many bodies have you laid at my feet?”
“Lily,” Walker interrupts, pulling her toward him. She lets herself be guided, folding partly behind him, but still peeking around his shoulder.
My jaw locks so hard it grinds, a hot ache spreading up into my temples. Every muscle in my body goes rigid, my pulse thundering in my ears. The idea of him walking out that door with her—of his hands on her, his voice in her ear—makes something primal surge up inside me.
She’s mine to protect. Mine to keep safe. I’ve bled for that right, and I’ll burn the whole damn world before I watch her vanish into his shadow.
He takes one wrong step toward the door with her, and I’ll put him in the ground.
“You should’ve stayed dead,” he says to me, eyes cold. “You don’t belong in this world.”
“And you do?” I shoot back.
He smirks, but his grip on her tightens.
My free hand twitches with the urge to pull the trigger.
“Let her go,” I tell him, voice flat, deadly. “She has nothing to d with this.”
“She haseverythingto do with this,” he hisses.
Lily’s eyes cut to him at that, something sparking in her expression. She steps back from him, confusion pulling at her features.
“I won’t let you hurt her,” I snarl, but it rips from my throat more like a battle cry than a threat, my voice jagged enough to draw blood.
“Hurt her?” He scoffs, but his voice cracks in that almost-believable way con men perfect over a lifetime. Almost. I’ve seen him wear sincerity like a mask too many times to fall for it now. And she—God help her—she knows it too, even if she doesn’t want to admit it yet.
Lily steps out from behind him, the space between us shrinking but still a no-man’s-land. Her eyes dart between us—wide, glassy, and trembling like a deer frozen between two wolves as she tries to determine who is the safer option.
“Why did you come to Colt, Bentley?” she asks. Her voice fractures, a raw edge of disbelief cutting through it.
“Like I told you,” he says with that smug ease I want to smash out of him. “To check up on you.”
She doesn’t buy it. I can see it in the way her brows knittogether, the way her jaw tightens as she rewinds the reel in her mind, pulling at the loose threads. The timeline is disintegrating in her head, and she knows it.
And then—he plays it.
His ace.
The wild card I prayed he’d keep buried, the one I never thought he’d be arrogant—or desperate—enough to use.
He jerks his chin at me, the movement sharp enough to slice the air. His eyes narrow into slits, glittering with malice.
“I knew there was only one person who’d spill blood for you, Lily. One person.”
He lifts a single finger, like he’s delivering some holy revelation instead of twisting the knife. His voice dips into something almost reverent, but it’s poisoned through. “And I knew exactly where to find him.”
Then his gaze locks on me—sharp, unblinking, predatory.
“That night on campus, in the dark?” His tone drips satisfaction. “I knew it was you. I felt it.”
Lily’s scream tears the air apart. “What the fuck is going on!?”
Walker’s smirk is slow and cold, like a wolf cornering prey. “Why don’t you tell her?”
