Page 24 of Creeping Lily

JUSTIN

“ L ily. Snow.”

The name slices from my mouth like a blade, sharp enough to draw blood from the air.

I shove the first man out of my way, hard enough to send him stumbling back two steps before he regains his balance.

I’m ready to put him through the wall, but two more of Goliath’s guard dogs catch my arms and wrench them behind me.

Their grip is all bone and steel, my shoulders straining against their military precision.

But I’ve already crossed the threshold. I’m inside. Standing in front of the man who pulls my strings.

I fight against the human restraints anyway, my muscles burning, but it’s like trying to break out of concrete.

“Let him go,” the man says, his voice slow and flat, like he’s already bored.

They release me, but not without dragging it out—hands lingering just long enough to remind me they could put me back in that cage at any second. Their eyes don’t leave me. Predators keeping the wounded animal in sight.

“You told me she’d be safe. ”

The accusation in my voice is impossible to miss. It’s loaded. Dangerous.

The man tilts his head, studying me through the mask, as if my anger is some puzzle he’s in no rush to solve.

“And she is.”

He says it slowly, with the patience of someone who never needs to raise his voice to be obeyed.

“She wasn’t last night.” My words snap through the air. “She was stalked across campus. Anything could’ve happened.”

“Ahhh… that.”

He says it like it’s a curiosity, a footnote in a report, not the reason my blood is boiling.

He begins to circle the room, moving through the shadows like he belongs to them.

The mask hides his face, but his eyes—dark, bottomless—track me the entire time.

They’re the kind of eyes that have seen things most people wouldn’t survive.

“Her safety is the only reason I’m here,” I remind him, my voice cutting through the stillness. “You assured me she wouldn’t get hurt. That was our deal.”

“If you’re not careful, you’ll have me believing you have feelings for her.”

Even under the mask, I can see the set of his jaw, the tilt of his chin—he’s not impressed.

“Any feelings I may or may not have for her are none of your goddamn business,” I snap. “The deal was that Lily doesn’t get hurt.”

“The deal,” he corrects, “was that you do your job, and I do mine. Don’t question my methods.”

“You’re supposed to be watching her.”

“On her family’s orders. You don’t get to give directives on Lily Snow.” His voice turns cold, serrated. “I’ve allowed you some leeway because she’s your sister’s roommate. But you’re making this too personal. ”

“You actually think I believe that crap about her family paying Goliath to protect her?” I laugh, low and humorless. “You really expect me to swallow that?”

“You’re making things… difficult with your attachment, Collins.”

“My attachment is a non-issue. Same as the day I was put on this assignment.”

“But it’s starting to look like one.”

“Who’s the stalker?”

“That’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it?” His voice is silk over steel. “That’s what we get paid for.” He spreads his arms like a king revealing his empire, and when they fold back in, his eyes are hard enough to chip bone. “You watch her. We do the rest.”

He tilts his head again, watching me like a predator cataloguing prey. I don’t even know his name. That thought makes my skin itch.

“Who are you?” I ask, my voice equal parts disgust and curiosity.

“Ah, ah, ah. No questions.”

“The devil’s in the details,” I mutter.

“It is,” he agrees. “Maybe one day those details will find you. But for now—you have a job to do.”

“And what exactly is your job?”

I shouldn’t push, but I can’t stop. When my father forced me into Goliath, it was under the banner of justice —their kind of justice. The kind that hunts down predators when the law turns its head. I joined to protect the people I cared about. And lately, that means Lily.

Goliath doesn’t waste resources. If they’ve put eyes on Lily 24/7, someone powerful wants her alive. And I know it’s not her family paying the bill.

“Stay in your lane, Collins,” the man warns.

I shake my head, already moving toward the door. If I want the truth about why Lily Snow matters to Goliath, I’ll have to dig it out myself.

“Collins,” he calls just as my hand touches the door. I turn. He pauses—almost like he’s thinking better of what he’s about to say. “I’m not in the business of hurting innocent people,” he says finally. “Not unless they cross me first.”

Vigilante justice.

The phrase loops in my head as I step into the night. The cathedral behind me houses men who answer to no law, no court. Men whose silence isn’t bought—it’s enforced.

Turn on Goliath, and you don’t live to regret it. Neither does your family.

I knew all that before I stepped into their circle. And I still stepped in.

Because now Lily Snow is in it too.

And I don’t know whether that makes her safer… or already damned.

The night outside is colder than when I went in.

Or maybe that’s just me.

The cathedral doors shut behind me with a low, final groan, the sound of a cell locking from the outside. My boots scrape over cracked pavement as I make my way to the car, my hands shoved deep into my jacket pockets—not for warmth, but to stop them from curling into fists.

Goliath doesn’t put this kind of heat on a random college girl. That’s not how they operate. Protection this tight, this relentless, is expensive. Resources like this don’t just get assigned—they’re placed .

Someone, somewhere, pulled strings for Lily Snow .

And it wasn’t her family. I’d stake my life on that. Hell, maybe I already have.

The obvious question— why —pulses at the back of my skull, steady as a war drum. There’s no romance in the answer, I know that much. Goliath doesn’t protect people out of the goodness of their hearts. The only “heart” they have is a safe filled with debts and leverage.

Which means Lily’s safety is an investment.

And investments always come with an expected return.

Is she a pawn? A bargaining chip? Or is she the kind of secret that could burn the whole city if it ever got out?

I play back the scene from earlier—her in her dorm, pale and small, eyes darting like a cornered doe. I remember the way she gripped my hand when we stepped inside, like the contact was the only thing tethering her to this world.

She doesn’t know she’s being watched from every angle. She doesn’t know she’s living in the center of a chessboard where pieces get knocked over every day.

And maybe—maybe she doesn’t need to know.

The car looms ahead, black paint swallowing the lamplight. I slide into the driver’s seat, grip the wheel, and sit there for a moment, engine off, listening to the slow thud of my own heartbeat.

The thing about Goliath is this: they protect what they want to protect, until they don’t. And when they decide you’re no longer worth the trouble…

No walls. No locks. No prayers will save you.

I start the car.

For now, Lily’s under their wing. But if they ever decide to clip hers, I’ll burn the whole damn society to the ground before I let them touch her.