Page 24 of Where Daisies Breathe (Star Meadows #2)

AVA

J ason’s truck is still in the parking lot when Ellis and I leave the doctor’s office.

I’m glad since that means he didn’t get the chance to notice Ellis’s SUV was still there, and that we snuck inside.

It’s nearing the time when I’m supposed to be meeting the person at the bar, so we drive over there.

Ellis wants me to record the conversation with a recording device.

I agree but still worry I might get caught.

He also wants me to have a phone call with him while I’m inside the bar.

The plan is that I’ll leave my phone on mute, so he can remain in the SUV but will still know what’s going on inside.

I actually prefer it this way. I was already concerned Ellis might be spotted if he went inside.

“And if you feel threatened or unsafe at all, just leave. Don’t worry about not getting answers. Your safety is the top priority, okay?” Ellis says as he hands me the recording device.

Nodding, I drop the device into my bag. “Okay.”

“Ava, I’m serious,” he stresses with his arm resting on the steering wheel. “I don’t want to offend you, and this isn’t meant to be mean, but I feel like you sometimes have a hard time putting your own needs first.”

At first, I start to protest, but then stifle the urge, knowing he’s right. “I know, but I’m working on that.”

“Good.” He faces forward in the seat, staring at the back entrance to the bar. “Are you going to be okay around alcohol?”

He knows me too well.

“It won’t be easy, but I know I need a clear head, so I won’t drink.” I reach for the door handle to get out.

He gently places a hand on my arm. “Please be careful.”

The worry in his eyes causes me to swallow down a shaky gulp.

“I will.” I get out, close the door, but don’t start toward the bar.

The rain has eased up, but the sky remains a bleak shade of grey. I wish the sun were out. I wish it were clearer. But maybe this is how it has to be. Perhaps I have to remain in the shadows for a while until I find my way to the sunlight.

The gravel crunches against the soles of my shoes as I cross the parking area.

When I enter the bar, music touches my ears, and the scent of booze stings my nostrils.

The place is relatively empty—a few people sitting at a table, and two others are at the bar.

I skim the dark space before taking a seat at the corner table where it’s lowkey.

I place my bag on my lap, like a security blanket. Then I check the time.

They should be here by now.

I start to fidget with a saltshaker that’s on the table. More time ticks by. Was someone just messing with me about this? Camilla maybe? She’s been fairly aggressive toward me. Not that I blame her?—

I startle as a person steps up beside the table. I peer up and find the bartender standing there.

“Are you Ava?” he asks with annoyance.

I nod, confusion webbing through me. “Yeah.”

“Someone called and left a message for you.” He hands me a piece of paper. “For future reference, this isn’t a damn message service. Tell the person who called that too.” He reels around and storms off toward the bar.

With trembling fingers, I unfold the note.

There’s a red car parked out front. Take the front entrance and climb into the passenger side.

I hesitate, going over in my head what I should do, thinking of the ways this could go wrong. But what if the answers are waiting for me in that car?

I knew this wouldn’t be easy when I decided to get involved. But I’m all in now. There’s no going back.

Swallowing down my nerves, I open my bag and drop the note inside, mumbling as lowly as possible, “I have to get into a red car out front.”

Ellis can hear me, but I can’t hear him. I’m sure he won’t be happy about what I’m about to do. Be safe , he said. Getting into a car with someone who could be involved in this isn’t safe. But I need answers.

I get up and hurry across the bar, pushing out the front doors and stepping into the rain now drizzling from the sky.

As raindrops splatter across my face, I scan the curb lining the street until I spot a red car.

I jog to it, noting the person in the driver’s seat is wearing a hoodie with the hood pulled over their head.

I remind myself of the connection I have to Ellis.

I can yell for help if I need to, and he should be able to tail the car if the person decides to drive away.

Mustering up every scrap of dusty courage I have, I yank open the door and duck inside.

I wipe the rain from my cheeks as I turn to face the person. I’m unsure whether to be genuinely terrified or relieved at the sight of Camilla.

“Toss your bag out the window,” she instructs as she pushes the button to roll down the window.

I clutch my bag to my chest. “I can’t just leave it out there.”

She narrows her eyes as she grips the wheel. “If you want some answers, you have to. I think you’re being tracked, and I can’t risk it.”

I assess her. I wish I could read her, but I don’t think I can.

Hoping to god I don’t regret it and that Ellis is listening to this, I toss my bag out the window. It lands in a puddle, and then Camilla is rolling up the window as she drives away from the curb.

I give a discreet glance at the side mirror to see if I can spot Ellis’s SUV, but the streets are mostly empty, and the increasing intensity of the rain decreases visibility of our surroundings.

“Where are we going?” I ask as I reach for my seatbelt.

“Somewhere safe.” She flits a glance at the rearview mirror before speeding up the car.

I’m aware we’re leaving the town and heading toward the outskirts where the woods are. “Not the woods.” It’s not a question.

She lets out a humorless laugh. “No, never the woods.”

I’d relax, but I’m unsure if I trust her. And I think she might be high with how dilated her pupils look.

I grip the side of the seat. “Why did you leave me that photo and note? And how did you get a note in my father’s handwriting?”

“It wasn’t in your father’s handwriting. I forged it.” She shifts gears as she presses the gas harder.

Fear and a bit of regret lash through my veins. “How do you know what my father’s handwriting looks like?”

She stares straight ahead, her knuckles turning white as she clutches the wheel. “You really don’t know the answer to that?”

I shake my head. “No, why would I?”

Her gaze slides to me, and she measures me up, the silence between us filled up by the windshield wipers going back and forth.

“Because I was with him, from when I was released from the woods up until the day my soul died,” she says matter-of-factly, then directs her attention back to the flooded road.

All I can hear for a moment is the sound of my heart matching the downpour of the rain. I want to be more confused than I am, but I’m not. I don’t even know why.

“You were with him like you were dating him?” Although I doubt ‘dating’ is the correct choice of word here.

More like my father was a fucking predator.

“Date? I wish it were that.” With how tightly she’s gripping the steering wheel, her knuckles have turned white. “What we were… It was much more disturbing.”

I realize we’re headed to the lake, the one where Clover once went under the water, and I thought she might never resurface.

“What… Why are we going here?” My voice is so feeble it nearly gets drowned out by the rain.

Her lips remain pressed together as she slows down to turn onto a dirt road.

“You’re lucky, you know. It’s messed up to think that, but it’s true.

You were his daughter, so you got a free pass.

But every other girl that ended up at that house in the woods had two options: be hunted or be part of the hunting.

” She speeds up even when the road gets rough and bumpy.

“The ones that chose the latter got out. But we never really escaped. They owned us. Still do.” She speeds up as we near the shore of the lake.

I’m struggling to process what she’s saying as we get closer to the water without the car slowing down.

“Camilla, what’re you doing?” I whisper in horror.

“All the branding—you understand that part.” She looks at me with her brows raised. “All of us get branded. It’s how the claim you—like when a cow gets branded. We’re just like that.”

I search her eyes. “Are you high?”

“I’m always high. Because if I’m not, the nightmares of what they did to me and what I did to them are so thick in my brain, I can’t see straight. It’s like when we were in the woods that day and there was snow. So much snow. You remember right?”

“I…” I glance from the water to the lake. We’re so close and she’s not slowing down.

I think I’m about to die.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.

I used to think about it all the time. And I still do every so often.

But that need to take my final breath is not as prominent anymore. So I used it for something else instead.

“Stop the car, please!” I shout, reaching for the door handle, preparing to jump out.

She doesn’t listen, and the engine roars as she speeds up.

I start to shove the door open, bracing myself for the impact of when my body hits the dirt.

But then she slams on the brakes. Dirt and puddle water fly through the air as the tires skid.

The car slides to a stop mere inches from where the water meets the sandy shoreline.

I frantically breathe in and out, my vision spotting as a panic attack threatens to choke me into unconsciousness.

“Why did I ever have to meet him?” She sobs with her fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel. “Why did he ever have to come into my life?”

Unsure what the hell to do—if I should try to comfort her or not, I say, “My father?”

“No,” she whines, tears streaming down her face as she looks at me. “Trystan.

Hearing her say his name confirms every speculation I had about that day in the woods. “He’s the one that lured you into the woods.”