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🩷TRUST ME, TELL ME🩷
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2025-05-10 00:25:01Chapter Seven
I waited until he thought I was asleep. The fire had burned down to embers, casting the room in shadows that stretched long and sharp across the wooden floor. He sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. I watched him through half-lidded eyes, pretending the weight of exhaustion had finally claimed me. But inside, I was boiling. That photo had shattered something. Not just the illusion of safety, but the illusion of ignorance. I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when my face had been photographed by someone who wasn’t supposed to exist. Not when the man who now watched over me like a bodyguard with too much guilt might’ve once been my executioner. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” My voice broke the silence, low but steady. He looked up sharply. “Celeste…” “Don’t say my name like that,” I snapped, sitting up fully. “Like you know me. Like you haven’t been lying to me since the moment you opened your eyes in that hospital bed.” His lips pressed into a line. “You don’t understand...” “No. I don’t. So make me understand.” I swung my legs off the bed, clutching the towel tighter around me. “Explain to me why there’s a photo of me sleeping; hidden in this place. Explain why your face is my husband’s, but your voice, your touch, your soul… none of it is him. Tell me what the hell is going on. Now.” He stood slowly. Not threatening, not calm. Just… tired. “I was given an assignment. Infiltrate. Eliminate. Disappear.” He said the words like they hurt. “Only it wasn’t supposed to get complicated. Jordan was already compromised; paranoid, making noise. They knew he’d told someone something. I was the cleaner.” Cleaner. The word sliced through me like ice. “And you were going to kill me?” My voice shook, but I refused to break. “Was that the plan?” He looked away, jaw tight. “It was the plan.” I let that sink in, let the silence wrap around us like a noose. “But you didn’t.” I rose to my feet, still trembling. “Why?” He met my eyes then. And for the first time, I saw no walls, just raw truth. “Because the first time I watched you cry in that hospital room… I knew I couldn’t be the one to end you.” I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But faith felt like a luxury now, and I had nothing left to bargain with except my heart—and that had already betrayed me once. “Do you still have orders?” I asked. His silence told me everything. I paced, bare feet slapping the cold wood floor. “You still have orders. So I’m just what? A mission you haven’t completed yet?” “No,” he said, too fast. “Then what am I?” I whirled on him. “Collateral? Bait? An inconvenient woman you accidentally started feeling sorry for?” “You’re not collateral,” he said through gritted teeth. “You’re the reason I stopped following orders.” “Bullshit.” “You think I don’t know what I’ve done?” He took a step forward, voice hard. “I see it every time you flinch. Every time you look at me and wonder who the hell I really am.” “Do you even know who you are?” I fired back, stepping into his space. “Because this man standing here—he’s not my husband. But he’s not a killer either, is he?” His eyes darkened. “Don’t push me, Celeste.” I laughed, a hollow, bitter sound. “Why not? What’ll you do? Snap my neck like the ghost you were supposed to be?” The air crackled between us, sharp and close. He grabbed my wrist, not hard, just enough to still me. “I could’ve killed you ten times over. But I didn’t. And I won’t.” His words vibrated against my skin like a promise and a curse. Our breathing synced in the silence, harsh and uneven. The space between us, already too tight, suddenly felt electric. I looked up at him—at this man with my husband’s face and someone else’s soul—and saw the conflict carved into every line of him. Regret. Rage. Something dangerously close to longing. “You’re not him,” I whispered. “And I don’t want you to be. But I need to know if I can trust the man who replaced him.” He let go of my wrist slowly, as though every second hurt. “I don’t deserve your trust.” “That’s not what I asked.” His throat worked. “I don’t know what I am without my orders. But I know that with you… I want to find out.” The anger softened then, like it had nowhere left to burn. And all that remained was this thread between us—fraying, fragile, but still holding. “I don’t know what I want from you,” I admitted, voice low. “But I do know I want to survive. And I won’t do it alone.” “I’m not leaving you,” he said. “Even if you hate me.” “I don’t hate you.” I exhaled. “That would be easier.” He didn’t kiss me. But the moment teetered so close to it, I could feel the ache of it in my chest. Instead, he stepped back. “Get dressed. We leave at dawn.” And just like that, the moment slipped through our fingers unspoken, unfinished, but unforgettable. --- The motel looked like it belonged in a crime documentary. Chipped paint, flickering neon, a front desk behind bulletproof glass. The kind of place where people didn’t ask questions, and you didn’t leave a real name. He parked the car at the far end of the lot, angled so the front faced the exit. Always ready to run. I stayed in the passenger seat for a beat too long, staring at the cracked sign that read Sunset Inn. The irony stung. There was nothing golden about this place. Just the promise of silence. “You good?” he asked, voice low. No. But I nodded anyway and stepped out into the heat. The room was exactly what I expected—stale air, musty carpet, one bed. Of course. He moved through the space like someone trained to scan for threats before unpacking a toothbrush. I dropped my bag on the chair and stood by the window, peeling back the curtain just enough to see the road. Empty. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. “You think they’re close?” I asked. He shook his head. “Not yet. But it’s only a matter of time.” “And Jordan?” His mouth pressed into a line. “If he survived the breach, he’s underground. Which means we’re on our own for now.” I turned from the window, arms crossed. “So, what’s the plan?” “We lay low. We stay alert. And when the time’s right…” He met my gaze. “We fight back.” I wanted to laugh. Not because it was funny, but because I was scared. Scared of what I’d become, who I was starting to trust. “What if I can’t handle this?” I asked quietly. He took a step closer. Not too close, but close enough. “You already are.” And for a moment, I believed him.
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*Celeste*The silence followed me long after I left the room.I closed the door behind me, leaned my back against it, and stared at the hallway like it could offer answers. But the air was heavy. Still. A little too still.The cabin felt like a stranger now. I used to move through it with ease. Now every shadow looked like it might reach for me. Every creak in the floorboards sounded like a threat.I stepped toward the window and pulled the curtain back just an inch.Nothing.Just trees and more trees. No headlights. No footprints in the thin layer of dirt that clung to the porch.But the wrongness? It was there. A pressure I couldn’t shake.Behind me, I heard Elias’ door open. His footsteps were quiet, like always—but I didn’t turn around.“We need to leave,” I said.A pause.“Why?”“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But something’s coming. I can feel it.”---*Elias*She wasn’t wrong.I’d heard the sound too—barely a whisper in the wind, something offbeat. The birds had gone quiet. The us
Until The Lie Loved Me 🩷SECOND CHANCE🩷
Chapter Twelve*Celeste*The suitcase clicked shut with a finality that felt like a funeral.I stood over it, palms pressed against the hard shell, trying not to cry. My bedroom—once pristine, once mine—was in chaos. Drawers yanked open. Closet half-empty. The life I’d built, now reduced to a duffel and a carry-on.He stood in the doorway.Not Jordan.Not even a stranger anymore.Just a ghost wearing a familiar skin.I didn’t speak to him. Couldn’t. Not without crumbling under the weight of it all. The betrayal, the truth, the surreal ache of losing a husband I hadn’t even loved—and gaining a man I wasn’t sure I could hate.“You ready?” he asked gently.I zipped my coat without answering.The house groaned as we moved through it, every creak of the floorboards a goodbye. I paused by the piano, the one Jordan never let me touch. My fingers grazed a single key, and the soft note echoed in the silence like a memory.Outside, a black SUV idled.I hesitated at the threshold, staring at the
Until The Lie Loved Me 🩷GRIEF🩷
Chapter Eleven *Celeste* He made breakfast. The real kind—not toast and eggs, but something thoughtful. French toast soaked just right, berries rinsed and sweet, coffee the way I liked it, even though I never told him how. I sat at the table wrapped in one of his shirts, legs curled under me, quietly studying the man who had become a stranger and a sanctuary in the same breath. He moved around the kitchen like he belonged in it. Like he knew where everything was. The coffee filters. The cinnamon. The chipped mug I always used when I was anxious. And for the first time, something strange whispered across my thoughts. How did he know? I pushed the question down, chasing it with a sip of hot coffee and the memory of his arms around me last night. The way he’d touched me like I was something sacred—not broken. He set a plate in front of me with a small, almost shy smile. “Did I get it right?” I nodded, voice caught in my throat. “Perfect.” He sat across from me, slee
Until The Lie Loved Me 🩷HEALING🩷
Chapter Ten *Celeste* The motel smelled like bleach and old air. The kind of place no one asked questions, where the walls were too thin and the silence too loud. I didn’t ask him where we were. I just followed. He parked the car around the back, hidden from the road, and walked me through the narrow hallway without saying a word. The door creaked open, and the room was what I expected two twin beds, stained curtains, a TV older than my marriage. Still, it felt safer than anywhere I’d been in weeks. He locked the door behind us, then double-checked the windows. Watching him move fluid, methodical, should’ve comforted me, but my chest wouldn’t unclench. I stood in the center of the room, arms wrapped around myself. “Do you think he’ll come here?” “No,” he said, setting the duffel bag down near the dresser. “Not tonight.” “But eventually.” “Yes.” That honesty. It always caught me off guard. “Do you ever lie?” I asked. He paused, then looked at me. “Not to you.”
Until The Lie Loved Me 🩷The Return🩷
Chapter Nine *Jordan* She thinks she can hide. That’s the first thing I think as I light a cigarette and lean against the hood of the black SUV parked at the edge of the gas station. A run-down joint with peeling signage and a weak overhead light buzzing like a fly that refused to die. This was her kind of place now, wasn’t it? Somewhere quiet. Anonymous. Easy to vanish into. But she’d never been good at staying gone. I blow out a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl toward the sky before dissipating into the humid morning air. A week ago, I’d woken up in a hospital bed with a hole in my memory and a burning certainty in my chest: something was wrong. The doctors said head trauma. Confusion. Temporary memory loss. Bullshit. Because I remembered her. Celeste. My wife. My property. And I remembered what it felt like to own her. But something was off. The house had been cleaned. Too clean. My gun safe—emptied. My private phone wiped. And her closet? Bare.
Until The Lie Loved Me 🩷SAFETY🩷
CHAPTER EIGHTThe silence in the motel room stretched like a loaded wire—taut, humming, waiting to snap.He sat in the corner chair, booted feet planted, arms crossed over his chest like sleep was something he’d forgotten how to do. I lay on the bed, facing the wall, the rough sheets clinging to my skin with the humidity.Neither of us said it—but we both knew. This wasn’t rest. It was retreat.“Can’t sleep?” His voice sliced gently through the quiet.I turned to face him. “Can you?”A pause. Then, “Never really learned how.”That should’ve unsettled me. But it didn’t. Because the truth was, I hadn’t either—not in a long time. Not since the man I thought I married started locking doors behind me and smiling like it meant something.Now here I was. Sharing space with a stranger who wore my husband’s face, and yet—my body didn’t shrink from him. My fear had shape, yes, but it didn’t come from him anymore. It came from the world that wanted me dead. The world that trained him.“You don’t
Until The Lie Loved Me 🩷TRUST ME, TELL ME🩷
Chapter Seven I waited until he thought I was asleep. The fire had burned down to embers, casting the room in shadows that stretched long and sharp across the wooden floor. He sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. I watched him through half-lidded eyes, pretending the weight of exhaustion had finally claimed me. But inside, I was boiling. That photo had shattered something. Not just the illusion of safety, but the illusion of ignorance. I couldn’t pretend anymore. Not when my face had been photographed by someone who wasn’t supposed to exist. Not when the man who now watched over me like a bodyguard with too much guilt might’ve once been my executioner. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” My voice broke the silence, low but steady. He looked up sharply. “Celeste…” “Don’t say my name like that,” I snapped, sitting up fully. “Like you know me. Like you haven’t been lying to me since the moment you opened your eyes in that hospital bed.” His lips
Until The Lie Loved Me 🩷THE LONG GAME🩷
Chapter Six The hum of the tires on asphalt was the only sound between us. No radio. No words. Just silence—and the occasional creak of the leather seat when he shifted. The road ahead was black, ribboned by shadows and streaks of fog. Trees loomed like sentinels on either side, tall and bare, their branches skeletal against the moonlight. We hadn’t seen another car in hours. I wrapped my arms around myself, but it wasn’t the cold I was trying to fight. It was the feeling creeping up my spine—the sense that everything familiar had been swallowed whole, and I was drifting in the dark with a stranger beside me. Except… he wasn’t a stranger anymore, was he? Not after the way his voice had broken when he said my name last night. Not after the way he touched my hand like it was both a promise and an apology. He hadn’t looked at me since we left. But I could feel him watching the road like it was a battlefield. Like he expected something—or someone—to leap out of the dark
Until The Lie Loved Me 🩷DEPARTURE🩷
Chapter FiveI didn’t sleep.Not really.Every time I closed my eyes, I felt the ghost of his lips on my skin. Not in a haunting way—but in a way that made my body ache with confusion.Outside, the woods whispered to themselves, the branches creaking like old secrets. Inside, the fire had burned low, casting a soft orange halo across the cabin walls. I lay on one side of the bed—stiff, guarded, half-covered by the quilt—while he slept a breath away.Or pretended to.“Are you awake?” I whispered.His voice was a low hum in the dark. “Yeah.”Of course he was.Silence again. Long and loaded.“I keep thinking I’m going to wake up,” I said, “and none of this will be real. That you’ll be gone. Or worse, that he’ll be back.”He shifted beside me, turning onto his side so we were face to face in the dark. “Celeste... he’s not coming back.”“Except he already has,” I murmured. “Every time I look at you.”His hand moved slowly, sliding between us until his fingers found mine. “Then look deeper.
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