Chapter 2 #3
"No. You're right," he says, taking a step back.
All the emotions displayed before vanish into thin air like they were never twisting his expression.
"Liv, I can't imagine how it feels to think about seeing them again. But we need you. The fate of Greenwood needs you. The people of this town need you. This is a heavy investigation, and you’re the only agent I trust with it.”
Fucking bastard. Fuck him. Fuck all of this. He can get on his knees and beg me to do this stupid case, but I won’t. I won’t walk the same grounds as the people who threw me away like trash.
I wipe my eyes, stepping back from the table and him. "Listen, I'm not feeling well. I'm going to go anywhere but here."
I only make it a step when Jonathan stops my retreat and squeezes my arm.
“Liv, they won't be able to recognize you,” he says, pulling my gaze to his.
His eyes plead with me to hear him out. “Read your cover story.
Thoroughly, and we'll discuss this later.
Okay? I'll give you time to process.” He steps back, eyeing me like I'm a wounded animal.
Before I can process, he hands me the large manila envelope, thick with papers.
I don't bother with a response as I snatch the envelope and head into my room, slamming and locking the door behind me with a huff. Childish? Yeah. But I'm not feeling hospitable at the moment. I need this time for myself. To analyze what he's going to make me do.
Maybe I can run away. Change my name and identity. For real this time. Start over in a small cabin in the woods with three hunky mountain men who bend over backwards to make me happy.
Ah, the dream.
Reality crashes down on me again when I sit on the bed, rubbing my temple, and glaring at the envelope mocking me in my hand. If I open this, my fate will be sealed. There’s no going back or running away. If I leave it on the bed, sneak through the window, and hightail it out of here…
He thinks the boys won’t recognize me. That six feet of dirt and a headstone carved with my name is enough to erase the girl they permanently left behind.
That they won’t look into my eyes and see her. See me. The girl they betrayed without a backward glance. The one they left to bleed out while gasping their names with desperation and begging for mercy. The one they left behind in a house swallowed by fire, silencing me.
Forever.
But the soul lurking beneath always remembers, holding the weight of everything they’ve endured and that was taken from them.
And mine?
Fuck.
Mine knew them. Loved them. Trusted them with my entire being when I shouldn’t have.
Until the moment they slit my throat, laughed at my pain, told me I was worthless, and watched me fall into a pool of blood, choking on their betrayal.
I gave them everything. My loyalty. My love. My fucking soul. And what did they do? They stomped on it. Crushed it beneath their knives and turned everything we once had to ash.
So unless Jonathan has a miracle up his sleeve, I’ll never be able to stare my former boyfriends in the eyes without giving away every single detail of my past and pain. It’ll blaze through every stare until they take notice.
They’ll know by one look who they’re staring at.
Fuck.
I run a hand down my face, aching for something to take away the pain that encases every molecule in my body.
I can only be strong for so damn long before I break further than I was before. I can only stuff down the despair of my past for so long before it bleeds through my veins and infects me with the memories of the boys I loved the most in this world.
I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at my shoes. Silent tears fall from my eyes, cascading down my cheeks and falling onto my hands.
For years, I've built myself up as this badass chick who can take down a fucking cult, for fuck's sake. Without blinking an eye, I can strangle a fully-grown man, and it's lights out. I can shoot like a professional assassin.
But this?
Having to suck it up and be around who I hate the most has my stomach turning and bile rising in my mouth.
I want to run.
JJ smiles at me when he whirls me around. His golden brown eyes sparkle in the dim sunlight barely filtering through the forest that surrounds us. Our paradise.
"Caught ya," he chuckles, pushing my back into the thick bark of the tree.
"Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?" I taunt, tilting my head, goading him into doing something for once.
This is our game. They chase me through the woods, laughing until they wrap their arms around my waist, push me against a tree, and take my lips with theirs.
But never more. I’m aching to feel their hands dance across my flesh, burning me and marking me as theirs.
"Dangerous questions," Hux whistles, putting his arm above my head and leaning against the tree.
"So dangerous," Mack chuckles, boxing me in from the other side.
"I'm so scared," I quip breathlessly.
Hux bites his bottom lip. "How about we take a tour of the treehouse?" He raises a brow.
My brows raise. "The treehouse, huh?" It was our meeting place when I snuck out of my room to get away from all the fighting and to run from my own abuse.
"Yes," Hux agrees, taking my hand in his and leading me away from the other two as they trail behind. "You're not scared, are you?" He peeks over his shoulder as I snort.
"Scared of what exactly?" I raise a brow.
"When I fuck the life out of you for the first time."
I rear back, heat blooming across my cheeks and down my neck. "You... You want to...?"
He stops dead, pulling me into him and gently kissing my lips. "You're ours, right, Trouble?" He murmurs my nickname against my lips like a sin laced with a promise. Of what? I’m not sure. But I’m eager to find out.
Shivers fall down my spine. Goosebumps form on my flesh when his pupils dilate and a smirk pulls at his lips.
"Yes," I say without an ounce of hesitation. "I'm yours. 2-2-4."
He smiles. "2-2-4."
"So, what are we waiting on?" Mack quips, smacking my ass. "Let's go get naked and..."
"Macklyn," I groan, pushing him on the shoulder. "Be romantic or something."
"Romantic," he scoffs. "I'll show you romance, Buttercup." He winks at me, giving me a shit-eating grin.
"I'm so convinced," I jest, poking his pec, and he grabs my finger, squishing me between him and Hux.
"You will be convinced, baby. We'll prove to you just how romantic we can be." He kisses the tip of my nose.
I blow out a breath, trying to shake the memory from my mind. Fuck that memory. Fuck that day.
Fuck it all.
I tear into my new identity with force, almost shredding the large envelope.
My eyes scan the sheet of paper, and my brows furrow. Jonathan's words from before ring in my mind. “They won't recognize you.”
And now, I see why.
Oliver James Davenport. Male. Parents deceased, living with Uncle Jonathan in East Point, California. Birthdate, December 24th. 22 years old.
Not Olivia. Not even a woman.
Mother fucking fuck.
I slam down the paper on the bed more forcefully than necessary. Yeah, they won't recognize me at all. And they'll definitely let me into their gang if I play my role right.
Because I won't be a woman trying to seduce them into bed with me.
I'll be Oliver fucking Davenport.
A man in disguise.
A secret fucking girl.