Whispers of Revenge

Crossing

დ Rosalie დ

The next morning, I made a list.

Lightbulbs.

Cleaning spray.

Batteries.

A new extension cord for the kitchen.

The list itself was ordinary. Almost insulting in how ordinary it was. My mother was dying. Julian Ashford had been taking my money through her for years. I still had no answers. And yet, the hallway light had burned out, the lamp in the living room flickered, and one of the kitchen sockets worked only when it felt like it. Life went on anyway. I found my mother sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea wrapped in both hands. She looked tired. More than tired. The kind of tired that settled into her bones and stayed there. For a moment, I was tempted to confront her, but I stopped myself. Now wasn’t the time.

“I’m going into town,”

“For what?”

“Lightbulbs…stuff,”

“How thrilling,” she remarked softly, and I almost smiled. Almost. Instead, I just left. I drove to the hardware store with the heater on low and my jaw set. The closer I got to town, the more I regretted leaving the house at all. Raven Hollow had a way of making even the smallest errand feel exposed. A simple trip for household things became another chance to be seen. Another chance to run into someone I hated.

Or someone worse.

The hardware store sat on a corner lot with big front windows and a faded sign that had probably been there since before I was born. The place smelled like wood dust, metal, and old cardboard the second I stepped inside. It was warmer than outside, but not by much. I picked up a basket and headed toward the electrical aisle.

Focus.

That was all I needed to do. Get what I came for. Go home. Stay away from the rest. I found the bulbs first. Then the batteries. I was comparing extension cords when I felt it. That shift in the air. It was awareness, and my fingers stilled on the package as I slowly looked around. I saw Declan standing at the end of the aisle. For a moment, all I could do was stare. It was ridiculous how quickly my body reacted to him now. A tightening low in my stomach. A sharpened awareness that made the rest of the store seem dimmer around the edges. He wore dark jeans, boots, and a charcoal jacket. One hand rested in his pocket. The other held what looked like a box of screws. His expression didn’t change much when our eyes met.

“Do you ever go anywhere else?” I couldn’t help but snap.

“You say that like I’m following you,”

“Aren’t you?” I asked just as he stepped closer.

“No,”

“Good. Then this should be easy,” I said as I turned away.

“You always were quick to leave before the conversation got interesting,”

“Maybe because I have nothing to say to you,” I muttered.

“Don’t you?” I hated the way I reacted to his words. I set the extension cord into the basket and reached for the batteries instead. “Did you get what you needed?” he asked. I didn’t answer him. “How is your mother?” his question irritated me, and I glared at him.

“Why do you care?”

“I’m just asking, Rosalie,” he said, his voice soft. But I didn’t miss the darkness in his eyes.

“Stop asking. Everyone needs to stop asking…because no one actually cares,” I snapped. Declan looked offended. I didn’t care.

“Valemont made you sharper,”

“That sounds like an observation from someone who thinks he knew me well enough before to compare,” his jaw tightened, and the tension in him coiled.

“I remember enough,” he said, and those words sat between us. Loaded and unwelcome. My body noticed too much in moments like these. The roughness in his voice. The way he never rushed his words. The fact that he kept his distance and still somehow made the space feel smaller. It made me furious. Because my mind knew exactly who he was supposed to be to me.

A mistake.

A coward.

Part of the past, I should have no trouble hating cleanly.

But my body didn’t seem interested in clean lines. It only reacted. To his stillness. To the directness in his eyes. To the dangerous quiet of him. I hated that. I hated him for making me aware of things I wanted nothing to do with. And I hated myself more for noticing.

“I’m not interested in whatever this is,” I said, and his lips twitched. Not quite a smile.

“You seem interested enough to keep talking,”

“You really do know how to get under my skin,” I muttered, and his gaze dropped to my mouth for half a second before coming back to my eyes. It was something I wish I hadn’t noticed. That small moment unsettled me more than it should have. It was dangerous. He was dangerous. He knew exactly how to unsettle me without stepping far enough for me to call him on it. I looked away first, furious with myself. Julian’s name flashed in the back of my mind then. The transfers. My mother. And I glanced at Declan. Did he know? Could I ask him? But I decided against it. If he didn’t know, then it was better that way. If he did know, I would find out soon enough. Just not now. Before either of us could say anything else, footsteps sounded behind me. An older man in a*****e apron appeared beside the shelf with a kind smile and a name tag that read Roy.

“You need help finding the right wattage?” he asked. Relief moved through me so quickly I almost laughed.

“Yes,” I replied far too quickly. “For the hallway and the kitchen,” Roy launched into an explanation about warm light versus cool light, and I let him. I stepped slightly away from Declan without making it obvious. Or trying not to. When I glanced back, Declan was still watching me. He wasn’t annoyed. He wasn’t amused. He was just watching me. Then I turned fully to Roy, let him hand me the right box, thanked him, and walked toward the register before Declan could say another word. I didn’t look back. But I felt him anyway. And the whole drive home, I knew one thing for certain.

Escaping him in a hardware store had only bought me time.

Not distance.

Not peace.

And definitely not the end of whatever this was becoming.

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