Page 165 of Only Be Mine

Out of ash.

Out of scraps.

Out of whatever someone else decided was all I deserved.

I pressed the heel of my hand into my sternum, grounding myself. “So what does he want from me?”

Seth’s gaze softened. “He wants a timeline. Context. Access. He wants names, Cate. He wants to know who was close enough to John to hate him.”

My breath caught.

Not because of the question, but because of how quickly my mind supplied answers I didn’t want to consider.

Seth watched my face. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

I looked down at our hands again, his covering mine, steady and familiar. Supportive.

“Did Marshal say… anything else?” I asked carefully. “About suspects.”

Seth’s eyes flicked toward the hallway, toward the front door, like he could hear a car engine in the distance even if it wasn’t there.

“He said something that’s been sitting in my gut since the first time he called me,” Seth said. “He said this wasn’t just personal. It was protected.”

“Protected,” I repeated.

He nodded once. “It’s like someone helped it stay buried, made sure the file was closed. Like someone made sure nobody asked questions.”

Bile climbed up the back of my throat.

“When we met Marshal before the wedding,” I said, suddenly remembering something. “He looked… annoyed,” I whispered. “Not at me. Just… like something wasn’t lining up.”

Seth nodded again. “That’s when he started digging.”

I stared at him. “And Trevor…”

Seth’s expression sharpened, a subtle warning. He didn’t say Trevor’s name. He just held my eyes, steady and grim, like he didn’t want to drag me into a conclusion I wasn’t ready to face.

But I was already there.

Maybe I’d been there since the moment Trevor corrected the world into a plan.

Maybe I’d been there since the first time he offered to “handle the logistics.”

Maybe I’d been there for ten years, mistaking his controlled containment for care because it was easier than living in freefall.

Seth leaned forward, elbows on his knees now, matching my posture. A mirror, not a wall. “Cate… if you’re starting to think what I think you’re starting to think…”

“I don’t know what I think,” I cut in, fast and sharp. Then I softened it, because Seth didn’t deserve my panic. “I just know something’s wrong. And I know I’ve been letting everyone else decide what I can handle.”

Seth nodded slowly. “Okay.”

I inhaled deeply, then exhaled, the simple action doing little to calm my nerves.

“Call Marshal,” I said.

Seth blinked. “Now?”

I stared at him. “Not you. Me.”