Page 52 of Creeping Lily
I sink into the edge of my bed, hands clasped tight between my knees. It feels like if I let go, I’ll fly apart in a hundred different directions.
This isn’t just a rose. It’s a breadcrumb. A signal. A way of sayingI can get to you, whenever I want.
I’ve felt this before—years ago, in a different place, with a different shadow lurking over me. Back then, I told myself it was paranoia, that I was imagining the weight of someone’s eyes on my back. Until I wasn’t imagining it anymore. Until the air turned to ice behind me and I knew I wasn’t alone.
The same air is here now, thick and heavy, wrapping itself around my ribs until I can’t take a full breath. My mind starts pulling threads I don’t want to see—visions of a figure in the doorway, of hands that grip too hard, of a voice whisperingyou can’t stop me.
Bethany hangs up, but I don’t look at her. My gaze stays on the rose, every perfect petal like a blood-red warning.
I’m not safe here.
I’m not safe anywhere.
27
JUSTIN
Lily’s in my arms the second I step through the door, like she’s been holding her breath and can finally exhale. Her arms loop around my neck, tight and desperate, and the sound she makes—half sigh, half release—warms the air between us. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, quick and uneven, and I don’t realize how much I’ve missed that sound until it’s there.
Then she notices Trick behind me. The relief in her face flickers into something sharper—hesitation, maybe guilt. His jaw is locked tight, lips pressed into a grim line as his eyes cut between us, searching for answers I’m not about to give him. Whatever he’s imagining, he can keep imagining it. We’ve got bigger problems than his jealousy right now.
“God, the room reeks,” Marshall mutters as he ambles in, nose wrinkling. His shirt is half-tucked, half-hanging, like he got dressed in a rush—or didn’t bother. I smirk but keep my mouth shut. The guy’s a walking bad decision. Odds are, we just ruined his night with someone who isn’t supposed to be on campus.
Kade leans casually in the doorway, one of ours postedbeside him like a shadow. “So, what’s the go?” His voice is calm, but his eyes are already sweeping the room, cataloging details.
Lily loosens her grip, her warmth leaving my skin all at once. She rocks back on her heels, a faint blush creeping over her cheeks as every set of eyes shifts to her. I can almost hear the thoughts running through her head—this must look like overkill, like we’ve brought in the cavalry for nothing. But when it comes to her, nothing is “nothing.”
“There.” Bethany’s voice is sharp as she points toward the desk in the corner. Lily’s desk. Always neat, always hers. Now it’s the scene of a message no one should ignore. A single red rose rests on top of a worn paperback, its petals dark and velvety against the book’s faded cover. It’s beautiful in the way a blade can be beautiful—perfect, deliberate, dangerous. And beneath it all, the scent. Sandalwood and oud, thick and expensive, wrapping the air like smoke. I know that smell. Not many people drop thousands on a single bottle of cologne. Whoever it is has serious money to burn.
“Did you let security know?” Trick asks, not looking at me, his eyes flicking to Bethany instead.
“Lily didn’t want to,” she says.
At that, he turns toward Lily, but he doesn’t reallyseeher. “Why not?”
“I don’t want this to be a big deal.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Trick…” My voice is a warning. His head snaps toward me, and the contempt in his eyes is thick enough to choke on. He still hasn’t gotten over whatever narrative he’s built in his head about me and Lily. I tried to push them together, give him a chance, but if she’s not into him, that’s his problem, not mine.
The muscle in his jaw twitches, his temple ticking like a countdown. I let out a slow breath. If he’s going to bring this energy, better he unloads it on me than in front of her.
“Outside,” I tell him, jerking my chin toward the hallway.
“Justin…” Bethany’s voice trails after me, but I brush past her.
Trick hesitates, but I keep moving. One way or another, this conversation is happening tonight.
This isn’thow I pictured it.
We barely make it into the courtyard before I spin to face Trick—only for his fist to crash into my jaw.
The hit is fast, hard, and sharp enough to rattle my teeth. My head jerks sideways, vision flashing white at the edges. I taste copper and shock all at once.
“The fuck, man?” My voice is tight, more from disbelief than pain.
“Did you fuck her?” he spits, his face twisted, eyes wild.
