Chapter 6 #2
“He left?” I ask again for the millionth time since I got out of the shower and met Jordy in the small living room. Even though I knew the moment Jordy was hovering above me with water in his hands that Jonathan had abandoned me, I still needed to confirm.
Delicious takeout boxes are strewn on the coffee table, wafting their smells throughout the room. My stomach rumbles, but ash rests on my tongue.
Jonathan left. Without a goodbye. Without divulging more on my newest case. Just poof! He had to return to headquarters for a newly inducted agent. And left me here with Jordy. Why did he abandon me in my time of need? He knew this was hard for me, but instead, he turned his focus to someone else.
It’s never me.
“He must trust me or something. Asked me to escort you to campus tomorrow.” Jordy tries to keep his voice playful and even, but I feel the doubt from here.
“His trust is awfully misplaced,” I groan, running my fingers through my long strands, savoring the feel of them between my fingers.
“Are you going to be okay with this?” Jordy softly asks, taking a bite of his quesadilla and slowly chewing.
“I mean it's one kick in the ass to have to confront your ex-besties, who I can kill by the way.” He raises his eyebrows when I snort.
“But having to go undercover as the opposite sex.” He whistles, swallowing his bite.
“That's a lot. So, spill your thoughts, buttercup. Tell Jordy your woes.”
“My woes,” I quip mockingly. “I've dressed as everything under the sun while undercover. Old women, hookers...”
“Even I wanted to fuck you, oomph!” He hisses when I throw a cup of queso at him.
“You're lucky the lid was on. But fine, continue.” He waves a hand, studying my expression.
“You'll do just fine, Liv. You're one of the best agents out there.
Besides me, of course. I'm number one.” He wiggles his brows.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Sure, Jordy. You're number one.”
I'm absolutely terrified to walk into this mission. It's not the undercover status I'm scared about. I don't even mind that I have to wear men's clothes and parade around campus as the opposite gender.
It's them.
Facing my ex-best friends who watched the life drain from my eyes and left me to die in a fiery tomb has my stomach turning.
“I want to bring them down so badly. I want to watch them on their knees as they beg for their lives.” Like I did that fateful night.
“I think I just popped a chub. Keep talking dirty!” Jordy chuckles, savagely biting into his quesadilla again.
I roll my eyes. “Shut up,” I groan. “I'm serious. I want them to hurt like I did. I want them to feel my wrath from beyond the damn grave.”
I want them to suffer at my hands like I suffered at theirs. They mortally wounded me. Left me to die with little regard for me. We were best friends and lovers.
I loved them with all my heart and they squeezed that from me when they slit my throat.
Looking up from my knees as they dig into the floor of my home, fat tears slip from my lashes and drip down my cheeks.
I can’t help the panic flooding my veins, begging for me to run away from this situation.
No. They wouldn’t do this, right? They wouldn’t stand above me with black masks covering their faces, holding me down as their father rants and raves with a knife in his hand before me.
I only get a glimpse of their eyes, shining with an emotion I can’t quite place.
The same eyes I’ve gazed into since I moved here, and they became my best friends.
Blue. Green. Brown. They look at me like an ant beneath their shoes as I beg for my mercy.
As I beg for the lives of my mother, sister, and myself.
But it’s useless.
They spare us no mercy. They spit words that rip me in two. And it’s them. My best friends. The people I thought I could count on the most.
As I lay dying on the ground, I think of all the good times we had together—all the fun we had, the love we shared, and the laughs that filled our treehouse.
How could you fake that? How could you slit the throat of the girl you held the night before and professed your love to?
“You could play the long game. I won't tell Jonathan if you accidentally cut one of their dicks off,” Jordy chortles, swallowing the rest of his quesadilla and reaching for another.
In theory, that all sounds wonderful. I could slowly attack them, one puzzle piece at a time, and bring them to their knees.
But I'm on a real mission. There's something more happening in this town, beyond them and their stupid gang.
“Maybe,” I say, shaking my head. “Let me tell you about this stupid town.”
And I do. I tell Jordy everything that happened last night and everything I found, making me think there's a deeper reason I've been sent back here.
Jordy chews slowly, digesting my words. “That's weird as fuck. You ask your little techy criminal to look into that chick's disappearance? Or our database?”
I roll my eyes. “No. He's working on something else for me right now. Besides, he's not a criminal.” Speaking of, I need to send that tracker off in the mail so he can tell who is stalking me. My guess? That damn psycho. But damn, the sex, though. It was out of this world.
Jordy blinks. “You're going to investigate it, aren't you? Just can't help yourself. Always got to throw your everything into the damn ring.”
“You know me so well,” I snort.
Truth is, I can't stop myself from investigating everything I see. Maybe it's connected. Maybe not. Or perhaps there's more weird shit happening in this town. Or maybe I’m trying to distract myself from what I’m about to do. It’s not every day a dead person can confront their past head-on. But that’s my mission.
“All right. You ready?” Jordy asks, wiping his hands. “I'm supposed to work my magic and transform you. Like your own personal fairy godmother.” He grins, jumping to his feet and gathering a black duffel bag.
I sigh, staring at the future dead on.
Now is the time. I'm about to do the unthinkable.
Now is the time to cut my hair, lock my feelings away, and face my past while pretending to be someone completely different. If that’s even possible.
I swallow hard, getting up and going to stand in front of the bathroom mirror with Jordy on my tail. He doesn’t say a word, opting to stay silent. For once.
A woman stares back at me with deadness in her eyes. There’s no light, love, or any normal sort of emotion. Not anymore. Just the husk of a girl who once had dreams to live her life to the fullest under no man’s rules.
I lived by my own set of rules. Until it was all taken from me.
Slowly, I run my fingers through my long brown locks, which reach the middle of my back. I’ve grown it out, only trimming the ends to keep it alive for the last five years.
They took my name. My face. My voice. My fucking life. But this? My hair? They didn’t take this from me. It’s been with me since that night. Like a companion hanging on to the bits of my past I couldn’t–wouldn’t—cut away. It’s the constant reminder of how they used it against me in my time of need.
A reminder for so much more than that. It fuels the revenge coursing through my veins. It’s the reminder that I survived. All of me.
I swallow hard when my fingers hit the bald spot near my left temple. Where the fire ravaged through our home and seared my flesh, taking some spots of my hair with it.
My hair is more than hair. It’s the reminder of my survival. That I came out on the other side a new person.
I cry out, begging with all my might for them to stop yanking my head back by my hair.
“Your time has come, Little Viotto. You’re paying for your crimes,” Franco says.
“No!” I shout, crying harder when Huxley’s grip in my hair tightens, making it impossible to move away from the blade pressing against my throat and slowly carving its way across my flesh. I’m forced to stare into the eyes of my boyfriends. My best friends. As their father ends my life.
And they help him.
Jordy doesn’t say a word when I pick up the large scissors lying on the bathroom sink. He doesn’t make a peep when I suck in a breath and snip the first pieces off, watching as they fall and scatter on the ground at my feet.
He doesn’t console me or hold my shoulder when the tears slip from between my lashes, dripping down my cheeks. He doesn’t make fun of me when sobs wrack my body and my weakness comes to the damn surface.
No. His lips don’t move an inch, because Jordy knows it all. He’s heard the night terrors. The cries for my mother and sister. The frustration. Everything.
Jordy simply watches with tears brimming in his eyes as I cut piece after piece of hair.
“You do the back?” I question softly, not bothering to look at him as he takes the scissors from me with a nod.
“Anything for you, Liv,” he whispers, lifting the long strands left at the back of my head. “You’re brave for this. You know? I wouldn’t be able to step foot back in my hometown after…” He shakes his head, not wanting to relive his own tragedy.
That’s the thing about the two of us. Hell, about everyone who comes to Veritas. We’re like wounded strays with no names and families to rely on. Veritas becomes that for us. Our partners become our everything.
“How can I pull this off, Jordy?” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut as he continues to cut my hair.
Doubt seeps in from every corner, infecting me like a sickness eager to take me down.
“Like you always do, Liv. You’re the most badass bitch I know,” he says softly, setting the large scissors down and grabbing a small pair, snipping again.
His fingers work through my shorter strands, styling them into a shaggy style.
The hair still covers the tops of my ears, but the air brushing against my neck has shivers working down my spine.
It’s so strange not to feel the tension on my scalp or the strands at my back. It’s all gone. Everything is gone now.
“What if I’m not strong enough?” All the vulnerabilities living inside me come to the surface.
What if I’m not strong enough? Smart enough? Fast enough? What if they discover it's me and want to finish the job they started? What if… What if…
Jordy snorts. “Not strong enough? Sometimes I wish I could smack you and get away with it.” I glare at him through the mirror now, noting the tears on his cheeks.
It’s sobering and humbling to have my best friend sobbing alongside me.
Especially Jordy. He’s all laughs and jokes, but for him, it covers up the traumas of his childhood.
Banishing them to the darkest recesses of his mind.
But not right now.
We’re living this together.
“You’re stronger than anyone I know. But don’t tell anyone I said that.
Or this…” he trails off, wiping the tears off his cheeks, and sets the scissors down.
“Liv, you can do anything. You’ve taken down cults and serial killers.
What’s three idiots? You can poison their coffee or bash their skulls in their sleep.
Which I’ll help with, by the way. Because what are friends for?
We can even chop them into little pieces and deliver them straight to Franco’s doorstep.
” He gives me a watery grin. “You have a heart of fucking iron, Liv. You’re strong, capable, and I fucking believe in you. ”
I swallow his words like razor blades scraping against my throat. “Okay,” I croak.
“Pfft. Okay, she says. That’s it? I pour my heart out for you, and you just say okay?
Bitch, look in that mirror…” He softly grips my chin and forces me to stare at the new woman before me.
“Tell yourself you’re capable every time you see this person in the mirror.
Tell them you’re strong, independent, and a damn good person, too. ”
“I’m capable,” I whisper to my new reflection staring back at me.
“More than capable. Do it again until you fucking believe it, okay?” He bends down, grabbing my hair from the ground and holding it in the air.
“They took a lot of shit from you, but this? This is nothing. You’re Olivia fucking Viotto.
Former Mafia princess turned government agent.
You’re a badass in my book. You don’t need a name or hair or what fucking ever.
All you need is what lives in here.” He points to his chest, poking it three times before he lets the hair fall to the ground.
“Now, we good here? Need any more motivational speeches?” He grins at that when I turn and bury my face in his chest. I soak in the love Jordy has for me.
Because in two point five seconds, we’ll be right back into the brother-sister role we’ve carved out for ourselves.
“I don’t think I could survive without you,” I mutter, pulling my face from his chest and wiping away the tears.
“Don’t I know it,” he quips, shaking his head. “Now, no more of these tears, all right? It’s time to try on some new clothes, put on your contacts, and kick some ass!” he whoops, harshly slapping my ass before he walks out of the bathroom, leaving me there to stew in my own shit.
I lick my lips, turning to view myself in the mirror again.
“I can do this.”
“Hell yeah you can!” Jordy shouts from the other room, as the sound of the fridge opening and slamming shut has my eyes rolling.
We just ate.
I huff a laugh, shaking my head.
“I’m Olivia Viotto. Former Mafia princess turned agent of the law. I can fucking do this.” I give myself a hard nod, before turning around and jumping into the hot shower.