Lila’s pencil scratched against the sketchbook, each stroke a desperate attempt to capture the unease that had settled in her bones. The Siren’s Call was quieter tonight, the fog outside thicker, pressing against the bar’s windows like it wanted in. The neon sign’s red glow flickered, casting jagged shadows across the worn wooden floor. She’d come back, despite Cade’s cryptic warning about the cliffs, because something about this place—about him—felt like it could wake her up. Or break her.

Her eyes drifted to Cade behind the bar. He moved with a predator’s grace, pouring drinks with hands that looked too steady for the chaos she sensed beneath his surface. Last night’s encounter replayed in her mind—his voice, low and edged with secrets, telling her to stay away from the cliffs. She should’ve listened. Should’ve packed her paints and left Crescent Bay. But the way he’d looked at her, like he saw through her carefully built walls, had hooked her. She wasn’t running. Not yet.

“Back for more?” Cade’s voice cut through her thoughts, sharp and teasing. He leaned against the counter, closer than necessary, his dark eyes locking onto hers. The faint scar on his jaw caught the light, and Lila wondered, not for the first time, what kind of life left a mark like that.

“Maybe I like the whiskey,” she shot back, tapping her pencil against her sketchbook. “Or maybe I’m just bored.”

He smirked, sliding a fresh whiskey sour her way. “Bored doesn’t suit you, Lila. You’re here for something else.”

Her heart skipped, but she kept her expression cool. “And what’s that, oh wise bartender?”

He didn’t answer right away, just studied her with that unnerving intensity. His necklace—a thin chain with a small, tarnished pendant—slipped free from his shirt as he leaned forward. The pendant was a strange symbol, a crescent moon bisected by a jagged line, like a broken blade. It felt... wrong, somehow, like it didn’t belong in the light.

“Nice jewelry,” she said, nodding at it. “Family heirloom?”

Cade’s hand twitched, tucking the pendant back under his shirt. “Something like that.” His voice was tighter now, the smirk gone. “You ask a lot of questions for someone who just got here.”

“And you dodge a lot for someone who seems to know everything.” Lila sipped her drink, the tart burn grounding her. “What’s with the symbol? I’ve seen it somewhere.”

It wasn’t a lie. The shape had flickered in her mind last night, in a half-remembered dream of cliffs and shadows. Or maybe it was the graffiti she’d glimpsed on her walk to the bar, scratched into a lamppost like a warning.

Cade’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought he’d shut her down. Instead, he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that sent a shiver down her spine. “Some things you’re better off not knowing, painter girl. Trust me.”

The air between them thickened, charged with something that felt like a dare. Lila’s pulse raced, but she didn’t look away. “Trust is earned, Cade. And you’re not making it easy.”

He chuckled, low and rough, but there was no humor in it. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

“Only the good kind.” She flashed a grin, but her fingers tightened on her pencil. Trouble. That’s what they’d called her back in the city, after the gallery scandal—after her mentor’s lies had painted her as a thief. She’d run from that label, but maybe it had followed her here.

Cade straightened, breaking the moment, and turned to serve another customer. Lila’s gaze lingered on him, her pencil moving again. She sketched the curve of his shoulders, the way his hands gripped the bottle like he was holding back something bigger. But it was the pendant that haunted her lines, its sharp edges bleeding into the page. She didn’t know why it mattered, but it did.

The bar’s door creaked open, letting in a gust of cold air and a woman with a laugh like breaking glass. She was all sharp cheekbones and sharper eyes, her blonde hair pulled tight in a bun. She scanned the room, her gaze landing on Lila with a flicker of recognition—or maybe disdain. Lila’s stomach twisted. She knew that look. It was the same one she’d gotten at the gallery, when whispers of “thief” had followed her out the door.

“New blood, huh?” the woman said, sliding onto the stool next to Lila. “Crescent Bay’s not kind to strays.”

Lila forced a smile, closing her sketchbook. “I’m tougher than I look.”

“Hope so.” The woman’s eyes flicked to Cade, who was watching them now, his expression unreadable. “Name’s Mara. You’re the artist, right? Heard you rented the old Warren cottage.”

Lila stiffened. Small towns and their gossip. “Word travels fast.”

“Cade’s got a big mouth,” Mara said, her tone teasing but edged with something colder. She leaned closer, her voice dropping. “Be careful with him. He’s got a past that doesn’t wash out.”

Lila glanced at Cade, who was pouring a drink but clearly listening. “I can handle myself,” she said, loud enough for him to hear.

Mara laughed, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We’ll see.”

The jukebox switched to a slower song, its mournful notes curling through the bar like smoke. Lila’s fingers itched to draw, to capture the tension coiling around her. Instead, she took another sip, letting the whiskey burn away the unease. Mara was trouble, but Cade... Cade was something else. Something she couldn’t walk away from, no matter how many warnings he threw her way.

He came back, wiping his hands on a rag, his eyes flicking between her and Mara. “You two playing nice?”

“For now,” Mara said, her smile sharp. She slid off the stool, leaving a chill in her wake. “See you around, Lila.”

Lila watched her go, then turned to Cade. “Friend of yours?”

“Not exactly.” His voice was clipped, but his eyes lingered on her, searching. “You should watch out for her. She’s got her own ghosts.”

“And you don’t?” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Cade’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, she thought he’d walk away. Instead, he leaned in, close enough that she could smell the cedar and salt on him. “You’re digging in dangerous places, Lila. Some graves stay buried for a reason.”

Her breath caught, not just from his words but from the heat of his gaze, the way it pinned her in place. She wanted to push back, to demand answers, but something in his eyes—pain, maybe, or fear—stopped her. Instead, she held up her sketchbook, showing him the half-finished drawing of the bar, the pendant’s symbol hidden in the shadows.

“Nice,” he said, but his voice was strained. “You see too much.”

“Maybe you don’t show enough.” She closed the book, her heart pounding. “What’s the symbol, Cade? Why’s it got you so spooked?”

He didn’t answer, just stared at her like she was a puzzle he couldn’t solve. The bar’s lights flickered, and outside, the fog seemed to pulse, alive with secrets. Lila’s skin prickled, like someone—or something—was watching. She glanced at the window, half-expecting to see that shadow from last night, the one that had vanished into the cliffs.

Cade followed her gaze, his expression darkening. “Go home, Lila,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Now.”

But as she gathered her things, the pendant’s symbol burned in her mind, and she knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Not until she unraveled whatever Crescent Bay—and Cade—were hiding.

Author’s Note: Hey, loves! How’s that tension between Lila and Cade? 😈

What do you think the symbol means?

Drop a comment and vote if you’re hooked! Chapter 3’s coming soon—things are about to get darker. xoxo