Page 89 of Creeping Lily

It’s probably just my mind playing tricks on me.

At least, that’s what I want to believe.

But I don’t look back. I can’t. My feet pound the dry earth as I cut along the side of the house, every instinct screaming at me to keep moving. I don’t even stop to think about the rules he laid out before going inside. Rules don’t matter anymore. Not when I’ve seen what he’s capable of. He’s not some dark guardian in the shadows—he’s a killer. And I’m not naive enough to think I’m safe just because he’s saved me before.

If I stay, he won’t just come for me—he’ll come for the people I care about. And when he’s done, there’ll be nothing left but blood and silence.

The dirt path stretches endlessly ahead, my lungs burning with each gulp of air. I scan the horizon, desperate for anything—a house, a road, a car—but all I see is the bone-dry emptinessof nowhere. My legs want to quit, muscles screaming, but I force them on. Eventually, I’ll find someone. Something. I have to.

The sun glares down from a cloudless sky, baking my skin despite the lingering chill in the air. Sweat clings to me like a second layer, and my mouth feels like sandpaper. It’s as if I’ve been running for hours, though I know it’s only been minutes.

Then I hear it—the low, guttural growl of an engine. At first, I think it’s ahead of me, hope flaring in my chest. But the sound grows louder, closer, and I realize with a sick drop in my stomach—it’s coming from behind.

I whip my head around just in time to see the Pontiac cresting the rise, its dark shape cutting through the sun-bleached landscape like a predator closing in. My body reacts before my brain can catch up. My legs surge forward, every step light and desperate, as though running on air.

I don’t know where I’m going. All I know is I have to put as much distance between me and that car as humanly possible. Because if it catches me…

The sound ofKryptoniterips through the air, sharp and taunting, as my stalker closes in. Every beat of the song matches the frantic pounding of my heart. Of course the bastard would pick this for my capture—mocking me with the soundtrack of my own downfall.

The roar of the Pontiac grows louder until a rush of air blasts past me, tugging at my clothes and hair. He guns it ahead, the black blur of the car eating up the ground between us, then fishtails hard twenty yards in front of me. Dust explodes into the air, swallowing me in a gritty haze.

I skid to a stop, my shoes grinding into the dirt, and find myself staring straight into the driver’s side. My chest heaves. Fear slicks my skin like a second layer, making it impossible to tell if the heat rising off me is from the sun or pure terror.

He’s just sitting there, eyes locked on me, his head tippedslightly to one side like I’m some fascinating puzzle he’s not quite ready to solve. And then it happens—his mouth curves into a boyish grin. He’s not just chasing me. He’s enjoying this.

I stay frozen, unsure whether to bolt or hold my ground. The Pontiac’s engine purrs in the background,Kryptonitestill thundering through the speakers, every note digging under my skin. Then, without a word, he shoves the door open.

The music doesn’t stop. Neither does the engine.

He steps out, slow and deliberate, his long legs planting wide in a stance that screams control—military, disciplined, unshakable. His head tilts again, the faintest spark of anticipation in his eyes, as if he’s already two moves ahead of me in this twisted game.

And I realize—he’s not wondering if he’s going to catch me.

He’s wondering how.

“Get in the car, Lily,” he orders, his voice sharp and unyielding when I stay frozen in place.

I shake my head hard. His mask is back on, the dark fabric hiding his expression, his hoodie pulled up so that only the shadow of his face is visible beneath it. There’s no way I’m getting in that car. If I’m going to die, it won’t be with my hands folded neatly in my lap—I’ll go down clawing.

He steps forward. I take an equal step back, my eyes locked on his like I’m daring him to keep coming.

“Just leave me alone!” I yell, my voice cracking. “I won’t tell anyone what I saw—just let me walk away.”

And then he grins. That slow, Cheshire-cat smile spreads across the slash of skin visible beneath the mask, and for one hot second, rage flares so bright I could almost kill him myself. Would that make me just like him? Maybe.

“You know I can’t do that, Lily,” he calls out, his voice slicing through the pounding music.

“Just let me go,” I beg, the words barely above a whisper. “Whoever you are, this never happened. Just… disappear.”

Another step forward. I match him with another step back, my muscles trembling from the tension winding tighter in my body. His smile grows wider, more deliberate, before he turns toward the car. He leans inside and twists the volume knob.

The music swells, and the unmistakable first chords ofCreepflood the air.

A chill races up my arms, every hair standing on end.

“Fuck,” I breathe, my chest collapsing around the word. This is worse—so much worse—than I’d let myself imagine.

That’s my cue.