Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Rain poured, and endless darkness spread around me.
When I raised a gun to shoot, it was replaced with a knife, and it went sailing through the air before I realized I had thrown it at Oliver.
I scrambled to my feet as his body crumpled.
My heart pounded as I ran over to him, and his face was replaced with Mathew’s, his bright eyes wide and accusing.
I propped his head up and ignored the tremor racing through me when the face changed again. This time, I was holding London.
Her expression changes as she stares up at me, the life slowly bleeding out of her.
I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.
Suddenly, I sit up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat, and my heart galloping unevenly.
Gray light pours in through the open window, and I hear birds chirping in the distance.
My vision clears, and I see London sitting next to me, wisps of hair plastered to her forehead and a furrow between her brows.
Wordlessly, she takes my hands in hers.
“I’m okay.” My voice is hoarse. “Just a stupid dream.”
London kisses my hand and swings her legs over the side of the bed. “Why don’t I get you something to eat?”
“Katia should be outside, or Carlisle. Make sure one of them is with you.”
London turns to face me. “Okay.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s it? No arguments?”
London lets her hands fall to her side and straightens up. “Let’s just focus on getting you better. That’s all that matters now.”
I tug on her hand, and she leans forward, breath hitching in her throat when I move my other hand around the back of her neck.
My mouth descends on hers, hot and unyielding, and the sigh that falls from her lips makes something in me unfurl.
London slides onto the bed and links her fingers through my hair.
When she angles her head and parts her lips, red-hot desire pulses through me.
She’s all I want in that moment.
Everything else can burn for all I care.
My tongue plunges into her mouth, and I draw slow, lazy strokes, the moans falling from her lips erasing every voice of doubt in my head.
I use my hands to frame her face and growl into her mouth, smirking when a shudder goes through her.
London throws one leg over me, so she’s straddling me, and suddenly, the small bed doesn’t bother me as much.
I keep one hand on the back of her neck, and the other glides down her bare arms.
London makes another noise in the back of her throat, and my fingers move under her shirt and splay across the bare skin of her stomach. She grinds against me, and I growl again, needing to feel more of her.
Someone clears their throat, and London stills.
I wrench my lips away, finding Oliver standing in the doorway.
Slowly, I untangle myself from London and tuck her into my side.
She pushes her hair out of her eyes, and I feel her stiffen when she spots Oliver.
His hair is in tufts on top of his head, and when he steps into the room, I see the wrinkled clothing and dark circles under his eyes.
“I can come back later.” Oliver’s voice is low and uneven. “I thought you’d be resting.”
“I was.”
Oliver’s eyes dart all over the room, and he swallows. “I thought I’d check on you.”
“Came to see if they finished the job?”
Oliver snaps to attention. “What?”
“The medical team,” I say. “I won’t need more surgery.”
Oliver’s expression is relieved as he slides his eyes away again. “Good. I’m glad.”
Silence stretches between us.
Oliver shoves a hand into his pocket and drifts closer to the window. The first patches of yellow light illuminate his features. Every time I’m around him, I’m reminded of how much he looks like our mother, and it’s like losing her all over again.
I know he’s been itching to get back to his life
I swallow past the bile in my throat and square my shoulders. “I’m getting close to finding out who was behind this.”
Oliver doesn’t turn to face me, but I see the subtle straightening of his spine. “I’m guessing it’s someone from the inside.”
“Higher up this time,” I reply tightly. “I don’t care who they are. When I get my hands on them, I’ll gut the traitor myself and hang him by his balls.”
Oliver turns to face me, and his expression is smooth and unreadable. “You’ll want to interrogate him first.”
“I have something special planned.”
Oliver’s mouth moves, but no sound comes out.
A kernel of doubt takes root and blossoms in the center of my chest.
What have you done, little brother? What do you know?
London clears her throat, breaking the tension. “I was going to get us breakfast. Oliver, do you want me to get you something?”
Oliver doesn’t look at her.
“I’ll be right back.” London stops in the doorway to shoot me a meaningful look. Then she steps outside, and the door shuts behind her. Oliver remains rooted to the spot, his eyes dancing around. He looks at me again, and a long moment passes between us.
He opens his mouth, and I clench my hands into fists.
The door to the room bursts open, and Oliver jumps up, fear flashing across his face before he stamps it out.
Carlisle spares Oliver a cursory look before he stops in front of me.
I don’t take my eyes off Oliver’s face as Carlisle leans forward and whispers something in my ear.
I offer him a curt nod, and Carlisle leans back again.
“Duty never sleeps,” Oliver comments in a strange voice. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“It shouldn’t have come to this.”
Oliver stops in the doorway, every muscle poised and tense. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to make things right.”
“I meant you and Olivia being here,” I continue in the same measured voice. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”
A heartbeat later, he looks away and leaves the room.
Once he does, I press two fingers to my temples and exhale. Carlisle wordlessly steps into the room and folds his arms over his chest.“He knows something.”
Carlisle clears his throat. “It’s a little more than that, unfortunately.”
I drop my hand and stare at Carlisle for a moment longer. Wordlessly, I take the envelope out and rip it open. My heart sputters and speeds up as I leaf through the pictures and realize two things at once.
The first is that how easy it was to find the paper trail leading directly to the traitor.
And the second is that Oliver is the one who hung me out to dry.
Confusion, anger and fear roll up into one and rise within me.
Out of all the scenarios I imagined, my little brother being the one to twist the knife in my back isn’t one of them.
He wasn’t even on my list.
How could I have been so blind?
Is he really so eager to get back to his life that he’s willing to do whatever it takes, including sell me out?
Whatever blood is on his hands, you might as well have put it there yourself. You know you’re the reason he got dragged back.
Suddenly, I wonder if Oliver came to see me to finish what my enemies started.
Would he have taken London out too?
I go cold all over as I force myself to glance up from the pictures. “How sure are you about this?”
Carlisle straightens his back. “As sure as I can be. I used all my usual channels.”
I frown. “That’s not good enough. I want you to look into this yourself.”
“Boss—”
“No one else can know that Oliver is the traitor,” I hiss, turning wild eyes on my right-hand man. “Do you fucking understand? Whatever this is, he’s still a Payne.”
I desperately need Oliver to be innocent.
I need another explanation, but I can’t let myself be blindsided again.
The last thing I need is more my problems on my plate.
Carlisle will dig as deep as he can, and when he finds proof, I’ll make sure to deal with it personally.
I’m sorry, mom.
I lower my voice further. “No one else can look into this. You need to handle this as discreetly as possible. Only go to Katia for help.”
Carlisle nods.
London returns as Carlisle is leaving and ignores the look he gives her. She carries the tray over to the table by the bed and sets it down. Then, she waits until the door shuts and Carlisle is out of earshot.
“What was that about?”
“What was what about?” I lean sideways and snatch a croissant off the tray and rip it into pieces.
London drops her hands. “You and Oliver. I thought you two were good.”
I pop a piece of the flaky bread in my mouth and chew. “It’s complicated. Oliver has been here too long.”
London reaches for my hand, and I let her hold it. “I’m sorry.”
I stop chewing. “None of this is your fault.”
“I’m still sorry.” London’s eyes never leave my face. “What happens now? How many people do we have to keep an eye on? People we’re supposed to be able to trust.”
The croissant suddenly tastes like ash in my mouth.
“As many as it takes. We won’t let on that we know. We beat them at their game, so they don’t see us coming.”
London stands up and blows out a breath. “This makes things worse, doesn’t it?”
I stare at her for another moment and then nod. “Yes.”
London walks over to the window and looks out. “We can handle this. We just have to get through it together.”
My heart twists at the optimism in her voice.
“The food is going to get cold, Pigeon,” I say. “Let’s eat.”
I don’t want to take away her hope just yet.
I’m coming for you, you bastards. You'd better be ready to throw every damn thing you’ve got at me.
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