Page 30 of Creeping Lily
I let the corner of my mouth twitch up, a slow, deliberate smirk. “Then I guess we’d better make a good first impression.”
Justin Collins standsin front of me like he owns the space—shoulders squared, jaw locked, eyes holding that perfect blend of curiosity and defiance. He’s green, untouched by the kind of dirt this world grinds into a man’s bones. An anomaly.
I don’t rush. I cross the room with slow, deliberate steps, the echo of my boots striking the concrete bouncing off the cathedral’s stone walls. The mask covers my face completely, itsleathery surface catching what little light filters through the overhead bulbs. His gaze flickers to it, a momentary tell, a sliver of uncertainty. He hides it quick, forcing his features back into something steady.
I can respect that. Fearlessness is rare. Dangerous, too.
“Security measure,” I say, my fingers brushing the edge of the mask. My voice is low and even, the kind that carries weight without volume. “In this business, trust is currency. And I don’t know you well enough to spend what little I have of it.”
Justin’s mouth quirks into a dry, almost amused smile. “Nor can I trust you.”
The corner of my lip lifts beneath the mask. I expected that. “The difference is,” I tell him, my tone dropping to something darker, “I have far more to lose than you ever will. And I will protect this institution at all costs.”
He laughs under his breath. Not a nervous sound. Bold. Too bold. Most men either drop their eyes or try to talk their way out of my focus. He stands his ground. That could be strength. Or it could be stupidity.
I fold my arms, tilt my head just slightly—studying him the way you study a blade, weighing if it will cut clean or break in your hand. “Word is, you’re having trouble with your latest assignment,” I say, letting the accusation land heavy.
He doesn’t blink. “What’s Goliath’s interest in Lily Snow?”
That earns him a step forward. I close the space between us until the air feels tighter. “That’s none of your damn business, Collins. You have a job—do it. Do it well. And don’t ask questions.”
His jaw tenses. “She’s living with my sister,” he says, calm but unwilling to back down. “If Bethany’s in danger, I have a right to know.”
“She’s not,” I answer flatly, cutting him off before the thought can grow teeth.
“You can’t promise me that,” he fires back.
My patience thins like stretched wire, but I keep it out of my voice. Instead, I take another step forward so I’m casting him in shadow, reminding him without words who carries the weight here. “You were handed this assignment because your position makes you useful. You’re close enough to Lily Snow to keep tabs without raising suspicion. That’s your role. You either take it, or I give it to someone who will.”
Justin doesn’t answer. He just holds my stare, the quiet between us thick with things neither of us will say out loud. I see the shift in his eyes, the slow recognition of where the line is—and that he’s standing on it.
I step back, breaking the tension but not the control. “This isn’t a discussion. Keep your focus on Lily. Keep your sister out of this. And don’t make me regret giving you this assignment.”
Then I turn on my heel and leave him there, bathed in the cathedral’s dim, echoing light. He’s a puzzle I haven’t decided if I want to solve yet—but until I do, I’ll be watching every move he makes.
15
TITAN
I’ve always had eyes everywhere.
In another life, maybe I would’ve been a hawk—perched high, scanning the ground below for the slightest movement. When I can’t watch, I have others who do it for me. But today, I’m on the job myself.
This isn’t about paranoia. It’s procedure. A routine check to make sure our newest recruit is toeing the line. In this business, you don’t wait for problems to land in your lap—you see them coming from a mile away and cut them off before they have teeth. Recruits are our moles, our decoys. Their job is to blend in, smooth over trouble, and make sure any threat is handled before it reaches my doorstep.
Right now, my vantage point is perfect—perched on the crest of a sand dune, high enough to watch without being seen. The hood of my sweatshirt hangs low over a black baseball cap, the brim throwing a shadow across my face. Dark sunglasses seal the disguise, leaving only enough for people to wonder. Those who wander too close might catch a flash of my eyes—but they’ll never recognize me.
Below, the beach hums with the kind of joy I’ll never belongto. Four carloads of college kids have staked out a patch of sand, their laughter riding the wind, mixing with the crash of waves. They pass around greasy pizza slices dusted with grit, splashing each other in the shallows, blissfully unaware that the world is darker than this. To them, it’s all sunlight and noise—carefree.
I lower my glasses just enough to track them—Lily Snow and Justin Collins—breaking away from the group. They walk side by side but not too close, like there’s an invisible fence between them. That space hums with something electric. You can feel it even from up here, the way their strides almost, but not quite, match.
I’ve seen this before. Earlier, Collins had been sitting in the sand, knees drawn up, hands buried in his pockets like he was trying to disappear. The chatter around him rolled on, but he wasn’t part of it. He was somewhere else entirely—until Lily arrived.
The change in him was instant. The second she stepped into his line of sight, his whole posture loosened. He stood, swept her off her feet, spun her around like they were the only two people on the shore. She laughed—a sound that rang clear and unforced. The rest of the group noticed, sure, but it was obvious where her attention landed.
That wasn’t just friendship.
That was the spark that turns into a fire.
