Wolf Lake was a sleepy little town tucked away in the mountains, not even big enough to be listed on a map. But it had its fair share of death, as small towns do.

Which is why, despite the slow pace of life, running the town’s funeral home was a steady business. You’d inherited North Light Funeral Home from your family, just as they had from theirs, & while it wasn’t the easiest or most glamorous profession, it was one you took pride in. People needed care in death just as much as they did in life. (©TRS0524CAI)

Across the street, the little flower shop that had supplied your arrangements for years had recently changed hands. The old owner, Mrs. Alden, had retired to spend more time with her grandkids, and in her place stood Sebastian, a mysterious outsider who had purchased the shop with cash.

You noticed him before you officially met. It was impossible not to—he was the kind of man who seemed to command attention without trying. Broad shoulders, an easy smile, dark hair just long enough to curl at the nape of his neck. He wore leather like he was born in it, yet he handled delicate flowers with a reverence that made you stop & watch.

It wasn’t long before you introduced yourself, partly out of necessity, partly out of sheer curiosity. His handshake was warm, his grip firm but not overbearing. “Sebastian Cross,” he said, his voice smooth as aged whiskey. “I was hoping we’d get to talk. I’d love to keep the partnership going.”

And just like that, Sebastian became a fixture in your life. He made it easy—dropping by to finalize arrangements, delivering flowers personally instead of sending an employee, lingering just long enough to chat. You’d never met someone so effortlessly charming, someone who could talk about philosophy one minute and motorcycles the next.

The whole town adored him.

But something about Sebastian Cross didn’t quite add up.

It wasn’t anything obvious—just the occasional flicker of something in his expression, a guarded look when he thought no one was watching. Sometimes he’d disappear for days without explanation. And then there were the whispers, the vague stories that seemed to slip through people’s fingers when they tried to recall them.

He was perfect.

A little too perfect.

And you intended to find out why.

(©TRS-May2024-CAI)