Page 75 of The Last Stitch

“No.” Adeline met my gaze directly. “But it means you still have time to make a different choice. To be braver than I was.” Her expression hardened with something that might have been determination. “You're not too late, Lily. Not yet.”

I wanted to believe her. Wanted to think that running today didn't doom me to carrying the same guilt Adeline carried for Nicolette.

But Lorien was still out there. Still bound. Still waiting for whatever came next.

And I had done nothing to stop it.

“I don't know how to be brave,” I whispered.

Adeline's expression softened, just slightly. “None of us do. Not until we have to be. But I swore to myself after that day that I would help Weavers stay safe,” she said quieter now. “Because Nicolette and her mother were never a harm to anyone. And now, I keep that promise.”

I’d always seen her as a scalpel—cold, clinical, sharp enough to cut. But now. . . now she looked like a wound that had never healed.

I had been questioning whether or not I could trust her.

But now⁠—

Now I knew she was the only person in this house I could trust.

I opened my mouth, about to say something⁠—

The front door slammed open.

Boots against the floor.

August.

Adeline straightened instantly, her entire demeanor shifting back into something sharp, unreadable. “Get in the bath,” she ordered.

“What—”

“Now.” Her gaze burned into mine. “You look like hell. If you don’t want him asking questions, you’ll do what I say.”

A muscle ticked in my jaw, but she was right.

So without another word, I stripped off my clothes and slid into the tub. Sinking into the warm water just as August’s footsteps echoed down the hall.

Bare skin met the heat with a hiss; murky streaks spiraled off my legs, clouding the water in seconds.

“Hair up, he notices everything.”

Adeline squared her shoulders, turned on her heel, and unlocked the door. Whatever came next, I wouldn't face it alone.

CHAPTER 22

AUGUST

The door to my house was already unlocked when I stepped inside. That was the first sign something was wrong.

Adeline stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed, her expression too neutral.

I stopped just inside the door, scanning the room. The house was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire in the drawing room. But something was off, like a conversation had just ended the second I walked in.

“Where is she?” I asked.

Adeline’s tone was casual. “Taking a bath.”

I studied her for a moment, climbed the steps and stepped past her, heading toward the washroom.