Page 81 of Our Little Monster
“Why?” I questioned, making my tone raw and unfiltered.
My heart thundered because staying behind was never part of the plan, or so they thought. I had played my part well.
“Serina, please,” Thorne pleaded, his hand resting lightly against my cheek as he gazed into my eyes. "We don’t know who all is going to be there or how many, and we don’t want to risk your safety. Please, we’re begging you, please just stay here. We will bring him back."
“We know how capable you are… but please, we can’t lose—” Nox began, his voice heavy with concern.
“Okay. Fine,” I cut them off, more abruptly than I intended.
Their surprise was almost comical; they clearly expected resistance, a fiery retort from the woman who never backed down from anything. But I held back.
They didn’t know about the ace nestled up my sleeve that would lead me straight to the heart of everything.
I had been lax for too long. But I had a mission, and I intended to follow through with it.
“Why did you even let me get ready if you weren’t planning on letting me tag along?” I asked, half-challenged, trying to dispel the tension clinging to the air like the remnants of dusk.
“We still wanted you to be prepared…” Nox said, his words trailing off as if he were grappling with what remained unsaid. “We don’t know when we’ll be back, and—”
“I’ll be fine,” I assured them, holding their gazes. “Just please… promise me you’ll all come back safe.”
Their eyes locked onto mine, twin storms of blue and green—Nox’s oceanic gaze and Thorne’s forest depths. In that moment, the world outside our little circle shrank into insignificance.
“I promise,” they both whispered.
Nox leaned in first and gave me a quick kiss on the lips, as Thorne placed a tender kiss to my temple.
Turning, they strode toward the door. I followed a step behind, trailing them. The evening air kissed my cheeks as they opened the garage door, the hum of the world outside filtering in. Crickets, the sway of the trees to the gentle breeze.
As they climbed into the car, the engine roared to life. The headlights pierced the twilight, banishing shadows and casting long lines across the long, graveled driveway.
I waved, though the motion felt too small for the enormity of the moment, watching as the car rolled away. Its presence shrank with distance until it became nothing more than a pair of red eyes fading into the night. The sound of gravel crunching beneath tires was a harsh goodbye, a reminder that every second they were out there was a second where anything could happen.
The last glimmer of light vanished beyond the bend. “Be safe,” I murmured to the darkness, hoping that somehow, they could still hear me.
I retreated back into the house, my chest tight with emotions—fear, hope, determination. As much as they wanted to shield me from the storm, they had unknowingly nudged me straight into it.
I felt that familiar thrum of adrenaline coursing through my veins.
The game was on, and I was anything but out of play. With every beat of my heart, I was already shadowing them.
I paced, my mind running tactical scenarios, while my thumb hovered over the screen of my phone, ready to unleash the plan they never saw coming. They had been driving around for a while now, and I had no doubt they were only doing so because they thought I was trailing them.
Which I was, just not in the way they were suspecting.
The tracker app blipped steadily, the tiny blip marking their journey until finally it stopped. I zoomed in on the map, scoping the surrounding area, and then I saw it.
A warehouse, isolated, hidden amongst the trees, now laid bare before me on the screen. The pieces clicked into place, a grim smile tugging at the corner of my lips. Bingo.
Time to make a call, to bridge the distance I had placed between myself and the one person who would be able to help me. Sam. I dialed her number.
“Serina?” Sam’s voice crackled through the line, tinged with surprise and something akin to relief. The line went dead silent, as if the world itself held its breath.
I imagined Sam, phone pressed to her ear, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and hope.
It was no small thing, my reaching out—not after all the walls I’d built, not after all the distance I’d put between us when Dad died.
“Sam—” I began, but she cut me off.
