Page 47 of A Smile Full of Lies (Secrets of Stonewood #1)

Chapter

Thirty-One

ROS

Knox didn’t say much on the drive.

He kept one hand on the wheel and the other wrapped tight around mine, like if he let go, I’d disappear.

The road curved through the trees until it opened up near the river, a quiet stretch of woods where time didn’t feel real.

The cabin looked like something from a writer’s fantasy — weathered cedar siding, deep porch, every window glowing warm with sunlight.

It should’ve felt peaceful, but all I felt was hollow.

Knox parked and got out without a word. He carried my bag to the porch and set it inside, careful not to cross the threshold, like maybe he thought if he stepped over that line, he might not walk away.

I followed him to the steps, my arms folded against the November chill, my sweater tugged tight around me.

“This place is yours for the next three weeks,” Knox said, his voice low, tone unreadable. “You heal. You write.”

I forced a tight smile.

“And then what?”

His gaze pinned me, searing and dark.

“Then I fuck some goddamn sense into you.”

My mouth went dry.

“Knox—”

“No. You think I’m not furious?” he growled, stepping closer, towering over me on the porch.

“You think I didn’t want to kill Thayer myself?

I’ve wanted to kill him since the first day he ever laid a hand on you.

Even more since the day he broke your fucking heart.

And then I find out he murdered my family, too?—”

His voice cracked.

“I didn’t even get to put him down,” he said, quieter now.

“Because you and Alyssa beat me to it. Your plan was reckless and you almost fucking died on me. I couldn’t lift a fucking finger to help you, and that gutted me even more than the knowledge that you took away any opportunity I might have had to avenge my family personally.

The choices you made stripped me of every ounce of power I’ve ever had, and you can bet your sweet ass you’re going to pay your dues for those choices when the time is right, Rosalind. ”

My heart skipped several beats and I swallowed hard.

“I didn’t do it to hurt you.”

“I know,” he said. “You did it to protect me because you love me, just like I love you.”

His hand slid to my face, and his thumb caressed my cheek.

“But that doesn’t mean I’ll allow you to walk away from the fallout of your choices without bearing the appropriate consequences for your actions, baby girl.”

My heart thudded.

“So this is my punishment?”

He shook his head once.

“No. This?” He gestured to the cabin, “This is me keeping my distance until I can take what I want from you without worrying about me potentially ripping open your stitches on accident. And to make doubly sure that I’m not overwhelmed by temptation, I’ll be out of town on a business trip for two and a half of the three weeks you’ll be here. ”

My lips parted, breath catching.

“But—”

“No buts. You scared me, Ros,” he said, voice a deep, velveteen growl. “I don’t get scared. I get even.”

I opened my mouth to speak, to try to beg for mercy, but no sound came out.

Fuck. Me. I’m so far up shit creek without a paddle at this point, it’s not even funny.

He stepped in close, his mouth nearly touching mine.

“And when I get you back? I’m going to make you pay for every fucking second I thought I’d lost you.”

I trembled.

“I understand why you’re angry, but I thought that maybe the fact that I did it because I care would count for something.”

“I’m not mad that you protected me,” he said. “I’m mad that you risked your goddamn life to do it.”

I reached for him, but he caught my wrist gently, kissed the inside of it, then let it go.

“Write the truth,” he said, stepping back. “And when you’re done? You’d better be ready baby, because you’re going to pay for the hell you put me through.”

My breath stuttered.

His lips curled into something that looked much more like a threat than a promise.

Then he turned, walked back to the truck, and drove away, leaving me on the porch with shaking knees and a heart that already ached for the reckoning still to come between us.

The screen door creaked loud enough to make me wince as I stepped inside.

The air smelled like cedar and old books, with a faint trace of something darker… Knox’s cologne, maybe. That warm, citrusy, woodsy scent he carried like armor. I didn’t know how long it would linger here after he left. But I hoped it wouldn’t fade.

The inside was simple, with an open-concept kitchen and living space, stone fireplace, and a small desk by the window overlooking the river. The back bedroom had a king-size bed with dark gray sheets, and a stack of paperbacks on the nightstand. Most of them were crime novels and thrillers.

Somehow, I wasn’t surprised.

I dropped my bag by the dresser and trudged back to the front room. The sun caught the water through the trees, throwing golden light across the hardwood floor. I pressed my hand against the glass, trying to ground myself. Trying to breathe.

Three weeks.

Twenty-one days alone with nothing but my guilt and the blank pages waiting to be filled with the true story of the Stonewood Slaughter.

I opened my laptop and pulled the charger from my bag, set it up on the desk, and plugged everything in.

I procrastinated for a while by going and looking at the local news – the Stonewood Times website – because so far, I hadn’t seen anything about what had happened to me, about Thayer’s death, and I kept expecting to see that – how the hell they’d kept it all quiet so long I really couldn’t imagine. Maybe I should ask Alyssa Allen.

But today, there was something. Not front page, not big and sensational, but still something.

November 16

Police News: On November 2 nd there was a serious incident in a gated apartment complex in the riverside area. One person died, and another was seriously injured. Police investigations into the incident are continuing. Details will be reported here once they have been released.

Somehow, seeing that made it feel real, in a whole new way.

For a moment, I just sat and shivered, remembering.

Then I shook my head. I wondered what Thayer’s family were saying about his disappearance, and just when the police might release his body for any kind of funeral.

It could be weeks, what with autopsies and the investigations to close the case on Knox’s family.

I was certain they weren’t going to let anything much slip out until that was wrapped up.

I got myself a drink, and then went back to the laptop.

I stared at the blinking cursor in the new document I’d named simply: The Stonewood Slaughter .

I didn’t know where to start.

The truth? It didn’t feel like mine to write. Not really.

His family was gone. His whole fucking world had been burned to ash, and he still let me be the one to tell their story. He gave me that. More than that, he trusted me with it.

And I’d betrayed him. Or protected him. Maybe both if you squinted and looked at the situation sideways.

I closed my eyes and leaned back in the chair, wrapping my arms around myself. The scars beneath my sweater still ached if I moved too fast. I could feel every stitch like a tally of everything I hadn’t said, hadn’t confessed, hadn’t put into words.

But he’d made one thing patently clear: this mandatory writing retreat wasn’t exile. It was a countdown, and when it ended — when the stitches were gone and I wasn’t a healing liability anymore — Knox was going to collect what he was owed.

Every word I wrote would bring me closer to that moment, to the reckoning I both dreaded and craved.

So, I opened my eyes and started typing.

KNOX

Sending Ros away was like tearing out my own heart with a rusty blade.

Twenty-one days in a cabin on the Tensaw, no contact — just her, a stack of books, and the quiet I swore she needed to heal and write my family’s story.

The scars from Thayer’s knife still marred her skin, her eyes haunted by the truths she’d uncovered.

But the exile’s real purpose? Keeping her safe while I erased the remaining men who’d helped Thayer slaughter my family.

Besides that, I needed a solid alibi, so I was going out of the country for at least a few days to meet with clients overseas.

And since that particular client owed me a big favor for finding a leak in his organization so he could plug it, he and his men were more than willing to fudge the records at the private airport I’d be landing at to say I arrived on any date I wanted, no questions asked.

According to them, I was already in their compound in Europe right now.

Thayer’s cousins — Eli, Caleb, and Chad Williams — were the other masked assholes in the Stonewood Manor security footage I’d recovered, alongside Thayer in his demonic clown mask.

Four men total, whose intended robbery collapsed when my father, Henry, burst out of his office, waving a gun to protect my mother and sister.

Thayer shot him down first, quick on the trigger, then ordered his cousins to leave no witnesses.

His cousins complied, knowing exactly who we were: the wealthiest family in Stonewood, Alabama, multimillionaires in a small town where the Knox family name was legend.

Thayer, my so-called best friend, had no excuse, and neither did they.

Eli, with his rap sheet and shady ties, gunned my mother down in the foyer when she tried to run and policed the brass, telling Thayer and Chad to do the same, leaving no shell casings behind.

Chad hunted my sister Ava to her bedroom and shot her three times.

Caleb, the getaway driver, idled outside while my family bled.

For four years, they’d guarded their secret.

Not anymore. Ros got Thayer to confess everything. I hacked into the police database and listened to the recording of her confrontation with Thayer, and it told me everything I needed to know.