The Little Dove #2 ✔️

78. Turn Me Aflame

CHAPTER 78: Turn Me Aflame

I take a long sigh as I stare into the night. My old room behind me with Edmund sleeping soundlessly while I stare out at the rain, folding my gown over my shoulders as I stare down at the field of silver rain and piercing ringing in my ears. We left New York in pale haste, my bones didn't stop wanting to shiver, but one thought was all it took for me to endure the familiarity of the wintery architecture in front of me. It snowed on Christmas Day, and mine and Marvin's birthday on Christmas Eve.

Edmund had said my present would be for both Christmas and my birthday.

He looked into my eyes as he held it, "I've been holding onto this for months now. I don't want to wait any longer, Lemon." He was almost too persistent and I loved it.

A key.

Not just any key, though, a key to the estate on Kingston Drive.

He bought it already, having confirmed it the morning of Christmas Eve-to which I didn't know about when I returned home to Mom and Dad, both had questions, but still held back, whereas Marvin didn't. He didn't even hesitate to pull me aside and demand what happened, despite Edmund's warning glares. When I told them all of what they needed to know, then it all toned down, yet my head was twirling and I couldn't rest as I stare out at the wind.

The rain grows heavier as I feel a certain heat source curl their burly arms around me from behind, "You're relentless when your gears are turning, Lemon." He says above me, before curving his nose close to my cheek, he covers my fingers and curls them into his.

I tilt my head up, he connects our foreheads and I close my eyes, "She's smart, cunning, and vengeful. We've seen what she's done, what she did to Bella, Corinne and Stella-just because they were related to those from Celestial Signs who turned to Parker's Designs. The way she used Johnson, the number of deaths she's falsified. She appears dead to the world. What if we made it that she wasn't? Would exposure push her over the edge? I'm trying to understand her, but how she killed Claude and his father, Edmund. There was no mercy in her aim." I mutter, turning into him and looking up at him.

His silver eyes trail along where his fingers slide mine up around his bare neck, he picks me up easily before turning towards the couches to my room, "You promised you would meet her alone on that cliff right? I need to know who your secret source was, who gave you her location when we all found her on the festival grounds." He tells me, in all seriousness.

He sits me on his lap, straddling him as he runs his knuckles along the back of my bare thighs.

I blow out a puff of air, "Brandon Sinclair, I recruited him with the help of Grandpa Stevens when I looked at his record. He got her information and informed me that when this meet happens on the cliffs, he'll have a few specialized teams on standby, with the help of Forthright. Now that they know the idiot isn't dead." I say to him, letting go of his shoulders to run my pale, cold fingers through my blonde strands, almost in delicate agitation.

He raises an eyebrow, "The same detective you spoke to on your solo mission before I got involved?" He questions.

I trail my eyes back to his analyzing silver ones, "Johnson lied when he said Brandon was the first to see Maven's body, or he wouldn't have confirmed his death and so-called confession letter. It made me believe it was Johnson who killed Maven because the confession wasn't effective, I knew Maven's dominant hand, except when he shoots or holds his gun, he can use another hand, but he didn't when he was with me. So, he did write the confession, but I believe Charlize was there; he could have been working with her all along." I murmur, tapping my bottom lap with my middle finger and forefinger, staring at the side of his head.