Page 119 of A Violet Obsession

“What’s he like?”

I tense for half a second before I realize who she means. My hand stills on her back.

“Callum?”

She nods against my chest, her hair tickling my skin. “Have you known him a long time?”

I nod, staring up at the shadowed ceiling. “Years. We met when we both worked for Vincent.”

“Do you know what he meant when he called me wee hen?”

I don’t answer Lily because I can’t.

I have heard Callum say that before, once, when he was completely obliterated on scotch—about his little sister. It was the one and only time he ever mentioned her, and it was clear the subject was off limits.

I’m not about to wade into that right now. Not until I talk to Callum.

What’s he like?” she asks again.

I think about it. I think about the stoic giant who has had my back on countless occasions but almost never talks about himself unless he’s drinking scotch.

I frown at the darkness.

We go out sometimes when we’re all in the same city. He’ll have a beer, he’ll laugh at the right places, he’ll throw a joke into the rotation. But the longer I sit here with her breathing against my ribs, the clearer it gets that I have spent years next to this man and I don’t know much about his personal life.

We’re all private, with demons we don’t want to talk about, but Callum takes it further than the rest of us.

“He’s private,” I say. “Complicated.” Both are true, so I’m not lying, which matters to me with her more than it ever mattered with anyone. “Like me, he’s not what most people would call a good man. But he’s loyal and reliable.”

Lily shifts slightly, her breath warm against my skin. “Do you trust him?”

I let out a slow breath, tightening my arm around her. “With my life.” I press a kiss to the top of Lily’s head, breathing her in. “You should sleep, Butterfly. Tomorrow’s going to be brutal enough without you running on empty.”

She tilts her face up, her lips brushing my jaw. “Only if you stay right here with me.”

“I’m never leaving.” I pull the covers higher around us, tucking her closer. Her breathing gradually evens out, growing deeper and slower, and I lie there in the dark, one hand still stroking her back, the other resting possessively on the curve of her hip.

In the morning, I pull the audio from her sleep meditations while she’s still in bed.

It doesn’t take long to dissect the recording. Most of the first hour is exactly what Lily believes they are. But at the forty-five-minute mark, the positive affirmations change suddenly. The messages designed to encourage Lily’s compliance and override her moral compass intersperse the other phrases. They are all at a frequency low enough to only affect her subconscious mind. I wonder if the Doctor put another trigger in them to ensure they worked.

Fucking bastards.

Later that morning, I listen as she makes the phone call to Dawn Vale. I hold my tongue as I strap the vest around her, and then pull my hoodie over top of it, even though every piece of me wants to throw her over my shoulder and lock her away.

I agree with Lily. I don’t think the Vales will physically hurt her, but I’m terrified what emotional damage they could inflict. They know where all her tender spots are, and they’ve already proven they are willing to use them.

By the time we are following Lily’s rideshare to the Vale’s suburban home, I’m fuming. I’m in a van with Sera, who’s monitoring the comms. The meeting was set up too quickly to get better cameras, but the barrette containing a small camera and decent audio should do the job from its position in Lily’s braid.

“Oh, fuck.” Sera mutters, eyes cutting to her side mirror.

“What?”

“Callum.”

I don’t have time for this.

“At least he wore a construction vest.” Sera watches him cross the side street in her mirror. “He’s not totally blowing us up.”