Chapter 118 Chapter 118
Lianna’s POV
The streetlights blurred past in streaks of yellow light, casting faint flashes over Stanley as we drove. We had just taken a left turn but if we had kept going, we would eventually end up in my neighborhood. Stanley stretched out and picked his phone and it lit up on the console. The glow washed across his cheekbones as he brought the screen towards him, highlighting the faint lines of etched into his face. He stred for a moment before locking his phone and turning towards me.
“It's almost nine,” he muttered, his voice low, sounding like an accusation. “You need to get home.”
I turned in my seat to face him. “No. We have the laptop now and we need to find out what’s in it tonight…”
“It’s late, Lianna.” His tone wasn’t sharp, but it was firm enough to feel like the conversation was already closed. “I can do that on my own. I will tell you what ever happens but if you don't go now, it will be too late for you to go home..”
“I can stay at the safe house too,” I argued. “It’s not like…”
“No.” His head shook once, deliberate. “Cam needs you right now, especially in this mess and with her health. And…” he glanced at me with that pointed look of his “you didn’t tell your mum you’d be out this long.”
I hated that he had a point. Still, I folded my arms stubbornly and stared out the passenger window. “You act like I’m fifteen and need to check in every hour. Plus there's a thing called a phone,” I said, waving my phone in his face.
His mouth twitched like he was suppressing a smile, but he didn’t take the bait. Instead, he turned on his trafficator and the next stop and turned, guiding us toward the road that would lead us straight to my street.
The silence settled between us like an old, familiar blanket. It was heavy, but not entirely uncomfortable. The only sound was the steady hum of the tires against damp asphalt and the faint tap of rain against the windshield.
When we finally pulled into the driveway, the porch light was on. That soft golden glow spilled down the steps and onto the concrete like a welcome. That light always meant mum was waiting up late. And idea immediately hit me and I smiled.
Stanley turned off the engine, the car sinking into sudden silence. He looked at me for a moment, something unreadable in his expression. “I’m walking in with you,” he said finally. “Haven’t seen your mum in a while.” I didn't even argue because he just made my plan easier to execute.
Inside, warmth hit me immediately, carrying the faint scent of cinnamon and the comforting hum of a home at night. Cam was sprawled on the rug in the living room, a coloring book open in front of her, crayons lay scattered like tiny land mines around her small frame.
“Stan!” she squealed the second she spotted him. She launched herself forward, nearly tripping over the book in her rush. He crouched down, catching her in an easy hug. “You still color like a toddler?” he teased, pretending to inspect her page.
Cam gasped in mock offense. “It’s a dog!”
“Looks more like a potato with legs,” he said solemnly, making her giggle so hard she snorted.
While they traded playful jabs, I caught Mum’s eye and tilted my head toward the kitchen. She followed me without a word. One huge flex I always enjoyed we never really needed words.
“Mum.. .” I kept my voice low “ I want to go back with him. What ever is in the laptop is important, and we need to see what’s on it tonight.”
Her brows rose. Instead of the sigh or lecture I half expected, there was a flicker of interest in her gaze. “You found it?”
I nodded.
“Then go,” she said, decisive in the way only she could be. “If it’s evidence, it can’t wait. Pack a change of clothes. Cam will be fine with me.”
For a moment, my chest swelled with gratitude. She trusted me not just to handle myself, but to handle this.
“Thank you so much mummy.” I said and she kissed Me on my head and squeezed my arm.
When we returned to the living room, Stanley was still sitting on the rug, his hair now half-tied with a crooked pink ribbon courtesy of Cam.
“What’s this?” he asked, his eyes catching on the small duffel in my hand.
“I’m coming back with you,” I said.
“Lianna…”
“She’s going,” Mum cut in smoothly, crossing her arms. Her tone brooked no argument.
Stanley exhaled slowly, glancing between us like he knew there was no point fighting two Martinez women at once. “Women,” he muttered under his breath. “You guys have all the powerful ones after all.”
………..
The safe house was quiet when we arrived, the thick curtains were drawn, the wall clock ticked noisily filling the room, and somewhere in the background, I head the faint hum of a heater. The air was warmer than outside, tinged with the faint scent of tea leaves steeped earlier in the day.
Serena was curled on the couch, a blanket pooled over her legs, eyes tired but alert. The moment she saw the laptop in Stanley’s hand, her face lit up.
“You found it!”
“Yeah,” I said, setting it on the coffee table but I didn’t exactly mention the state of her place.
She sat forward, reaching for the laptop with almost reverent care. She powered it on and we bot stood behind watching her do something that made her happy.. but the moment she was greeted with the lock screen and a blinking password box, her smile faltered.
“What’s your password?” Stanley asked, leaning over her shoulder.
Serena chewed her lip. “Uh… try ‘coffeequeen.’ Or maybe ‘serena88.’ Oh! Or ‘DominicIsAJerk.’”
We tried them all. No luck.
“What about birthdays?” I suggested.
She shook her head. “Never use those. Too easy to guess.”
So we started throwing out ideas…. names of pets, favorite places, old band crushes. It turned into a weird kind of game, punctuated by Serena’s groggy laughter when we got particularly ridiculous.
But password after password failed and by the time the clock edged past eleven, her head was drooping mid sentence. “Try… hmm…” she mumbled, her eyes closing.
“You should go to bed, Serena.”
“But we need to find it…”
We will figure it out.” Dominic said and gestured to me to help her. After a little more protest, I got up and helped her to the bedroom, tucking the blanket tighter around her shoulders. She looked small curled on the edge of the bed.
When I came back down, I stretched until my back popped. Stanley was still on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, watching me. His gaze was steady, unreadable, the kind that made me want to fidget and hold still all at once.
“You’re tired too,” he said.