Chapter Twenty-Nine
Sloane
It’s damn near two in the morning by the time the chaos dies down and the police let us go.
I make my way over to Oliver who’s sitting in the back of one of ambulances, a silver heated blanket wrapped around his body.
Though it’s been hours since the police arrested Robbie and I’ve already put a call in to Parker to ask for representation because I know once the real investigation starts and the media gets wind of everything, Oliver and I will definitely need his help.
I look at him, unsure if he is asleep or awake, judging by the way he’s slumped against the side.
His golden hair is a mess and his cheeks are stained with dried tears and dirt.
From the angle of the way his head is leaning, I can see a large bruise already starting to form on the side of his jaw and up his cheek, and some visible cuts on her forehead accentuated by steri-strips.
Robert’s words echo in my brain, even now. Even though he’s gone, his vicious remarks still remain.
He’d said Oliver was his. I thought the words were just that of a deranged man, and though one could say I might have missed something on account of the stress of the situation, I know I didn’t miss anything.
Oliver didn’t blink twice.
Because Robert was telling the truth.
Which means Oliver was not entirely faithful to me. He wasn’t completely honest with me, and we need to talk about that.
Chicora comes to stand next to me, reaching an arm around me and pulling me close.
Without hesitation, I lean into her and she hugs me.
The tears come like rain and I can’t stop them.
I grip her tight, my entire body tensing as the truth of everything hits me.
The last few days… the last few months. The last few hours…
The last few years, spent alone.
“It’ll be okay, Sloane. The police have him in custody, and there is no way he’s getting out now. You’re safe, sweetheart," she says, her voice solid and calm. I believe her. I don’t want to, fuck, if my life has taught me anything it is that I am never safe. Not really.
There is always some monster out there waiting for me. Waiting to take everything I love away from me…
I lift my head and steal a glance at Oliver. My heart still aches for him, even now.
Even though I know the truth. I thought I’d lost him.
Thought for sure I would be too late. I was terrified with every footstep in that damn warehouse, every bitter remark spewed at Robert, the man who always brought out the worst parts of me.
Tonight was no different. No one ever really knows what they are capable of until the chips are down.
When you are stripped of all the things that you use to protect yourself—money, influence.
I wasn’t Sloane Pierce, CEO of Veil in that warehouse.
I wasn’t even M4st3r_Gl1tch. I was ten years old again, but I was not powerless, this time.
I wipe my eyes as I stand up straighter, taking a glance at Oliver again. I wipe the tears from my eyes.
“I need to… contact the employees and send out a directive to remotely work from home until further notice," I say, my voice shaking. “Parker’s probably going to need access to everyone, and we should remind everyone about the employee assistance program for counseling and—”
Chickadee rubs my back warmly. “Sloane,” she says softly. “Go home.”
Oliver shifts and turns to look at me. His green gaze catches mine and I see the hope behind the exhaustion, the light.
My heart skips a beat as Chickadee sighs. “I got it from here.”
I nod as I hug her once more and thank her and head over to the ambulance.
Oliver’s gaze holds mine the entire way. I stand in front of him, looking down at him.
For a moment, it’s silent. There are so many things I want to say. Questions that need answers, but as I look at his messy hair and his bruised jaw and those vibrant, sparkling eyes, I find the courage to ask the most important question of all.
“Can I take you home, Oliver?” I whisper.
Oliver nods. “Yes, Sir.” His voice is thick with exhaustion.
He shifts out of the heated blanket and slowly walks over to me.
Like magnets, our bodies shift closer to one another as I walk him to my armored SUV.
I open the door for him and he hesitates to step inside.
I note the tension in his shoulders, the slight shake.
I know all too well those feelings—the loss of security. I’ve lived it myself.
Twice now.
He turns around and looks at me, tears in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he says, his voice thick with guilt and sadness. It makes my heart ache to hear it. “I know sorry isn’t enough, and you have no reason to believe me, but—”
I lean into his space, boxing him against the door frame. My gaze finds his, and I hold it with more confidence than I feel right now at this moment.
I could have lost him.
I could have lost everything, but when I think about the most valuable thing Robert could have taken from me…
I realize it’s not Veil.
“I know," I say, carefully reaching out to run my fingers over his bruised jaw. He doesn’t wince, but I know from the glisten in his eyes, it hurts. I run my thumb over it softly, and he tilts his head into my space. His gaze dips to hip, to the evident blood stain on my shirt.
“He could have killed you,” Oliver says, his voice barely a whisper.
His fingers gently brush over the dried blood, and I wince a little.
“Sorry,” he says, moving to pull his hand back. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
I grab his hand, holding it in mine. I know he’s talking about my injury, but I also hear the depth in his voice, the ache and sorrow.
The love.
And I know he isn’t just talking about my physical injuries.
“Oliver—” I breathe his name as he looks up at me with determined eyes, the tears still glistening there, but somehow, contained.
“I’m going to say something, and I’m really fucking nervous about it, so I’ll understand if you do—”
“Spit it out, Oliver,” I whisper softly.
“Do you remember that first day? Well… the second, really… when I turned in the venues, and you asked me for my opinion and I got upset?”
I smirk. “How could I forget? You were positively seething with assistant rage.”
Oliver’s lips turn up faintly as he shakes his head.
“You said you wanted to know if I was a liar," he says carefully.
“I determined you were not.” My voice drops.
“But I was," he says, his voice barely a whisper. “I lied to you. I didn’t know who you were.”
I watch his gaze flicker between us for a moment, before he looks in my eyes again. The cool breeze blows and the trees rustle, and the sound of tires escaping the gravel echoes around us. Lights flash as everyone leaves the scene, one by one.
Save for us.
“I thought you were an asshole. Some thieving, conniving asshole who—”
“Oliver, you don’t have to—”
“No.” He holds his free hand up, settling it on my chest. My heart skips a beat beneath his palm. “No, I need to do this. I need you to understand—”
His voice cracks, and that breaks me more than anything. A single tear falls down his dirty cheek, and I don’t think twice about wiping it away with my thumb. “I thought that if I just did this thing for my boyfriend—”
My eyes close at his words, the sour taste hitting me in the mouth. Part of me knows he needs to say this and I need to hear it, but it doesn’t mean I am comfortable far from it.
One word rests on the edge of my tongue. PUP.
I suck in a breath. I know if I said it right now, Oliver would end this conversation. But if there is one thing I have learned as the creator of Veil, it is that code can always be rewritten.
And although our source code may have been altered, it doesn’t mean we can not still prevail and become better than how we were written in the first place.
I open my eyes, gazing back at big green ones, and I let out a steady breath.
“I thought I didn’t have a choice," he says. “And then you showed me that I do.”
“Oliver…” I breathe his name, letting my forehead fall against his.
Crickets chirp and the world is eerily quiet and cold, but there is a warmth in my heart I can’t deny.
“I sat tied to that chair, and I never thought I’d see you again,” he chokes. “And you want to know what I thought about? As I sat there waiting for him to kill me?”
I see the truth in his eyes as the tears run free.
“What?” I ask, terrified to hear his answer.
“I thought you’ll never know,” he sobs. “You’ll never know it wasn’t all a lie.”
Tears flood my eyes, and I bite my lip, trying to force them back.
Oliver’s hand rises to my throat and he squeezes gently.
“And that you’d never know how much I fucking love you.”
“Fuck, Oliver…” I cry as I kiss him. His tears are warm against my cheek as my own fall from my eyes.
“I love you, too,” I whisper against his lips. I kiss him everywhere I can as gently as I can.
When I’m done, I pull away and brush his tears away with my thumbs and gaze into his eyes with firmness.
“Are you hungry?” I ask, my heart filling with a mixture of pride and warmth.
“Starving,” he says with a faint laugh as I pull him close and hold him. I kiss his hair and hold him for a moment. I just feel his warmth, his solid body, his heartbeat, and breathe because it means he’s safe.
“Me too," I say as I guide him into the passenger seat. I carefully strap his seat belt in if only to placate my own sense of security, but Oliver does not protest.
When I get into the driver’s seat, I look at him for a moment and reach my hand out to settle on his thigh. He relaxes, settling his hand over mine as I start the car.
“I do still owe you a dinner,” I tell him softly, my thumb stroking his thigh.
“Yes, Sir," he says, squeezing my hand.
When we arrive back at my place, Oliver is already asleep in the passenger seat.
I’m tempted to wake him, but I settle on not doing so.
Instead, I unbuckle him and pick him up, careful to avoid agitating my fresh stitches.
It’s not an easy feat, but I manage to carry him into the house and up the stairs into my bedroom.
I lay him down in my bed softly, brushing the hair out of his eyes and exhaustion hits me.
So I crawl into bed and pull Oliver against me, and close my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief knowing all the security I’ll ever need is right here in my arms.
And I’m never letting it out of my sight again.