Is that a threat? Did it sound like a compliment?
The wind whistles through the trees as I take the path to the library. Its opulence still stuns me—the soaring dome, carved banisters, and rows of books.
After a day in bed with coffee, much-needed pain pills, and Law even hushed, her voice echoes in the space. Outside, the sky has turned black, only casting hues from the moon.
How long have I been here? An hour? Four?
I stand, setting my book down, careful not to make a sound. Practically tiptoeing to the voices, I peek around the bookshelf. My eyes widen when I spot Oliver leaning against the stacks. Amelia paces, fingers pulling her hair, looking agitated.
“You need to stay away from her,” Amelia whispers. “You don’t understand what you’re doing.”
Oliver doesn’t move. “And you do?” he asks, tone lacking any emotion.
She shakes her head. “No. I—this isn’t coming from me.” Her hands fist in her hair. “Jade told me to talk to you. That Lyra doesn’t belong here.”
I wait on bated breath. Oliver’s mouth curves. “Why would I care what Jade thinks?”
Amelia lets out a brittle laugh. “Because she always gets her way.” Her eyes flick toward the aisles. “Lyra manipulates people. She always has.”
That should hurt, instead I feel strangely detached. I ease deeper into the shadows between the stacks.
Oliver tilts his head. “Careful,” he warns.
“She’s a liar!” Amelia hisses. “She ruins things. Ruins people.”
Well, that’s a bit exaggerated. Actually, a whole fuck ton exaggerated.
She takes a step back as he advances. “I said, be careful with what you say next, Amelia.”
My mouth parts as I stare at someone I once thought was my friend. “She’s a—” Amelia doesn't get to say more. In the next second, Oliver cuts her off. The charming mask falls away, and something colder steps forward. Something that makes the air in my lungs turn to ice.
Oliver’s hand wraps around Amelia’s throat and pins her to the bookshelf. Her eyes go wide with fear, and then her fight kicks in. I clap a hand over my mouth to stop the gasp that wants to leave my lips. I don’t move a single muscle, afraid they'll hear me.
“Now, Amelia,” Oliver’s voice is barely audible over the pounding of my ears. “I don’t like getting ultimatums. Don’t become a problem because I can guarantee you don’t like how I handle them.”
He shoves her back roughly, her face turning an angry shade of red.
Oliver’s hand stays steady, fingers clamped, squeezing.
“Word of advice: ‘don’t kill the messenger.’ It exists because most people do.
Do you understand?” He makes it impossible for her to reply.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, you’re not going to tell anyone about this fun get-together, are you?
No, you won’t tell anyone. You like your secrets; your parents do too.
With one click, I expose it all. You don’t want that; this cute little image you have curated so well will crumble.
Jade knows because why else would you be doing her errands? ”
He releases her so abruptly that she falls to the ground, gasping for air. “Oh, and one more thing.”
He waits until she looks up. Tears streak down her red cheeks. “If you or Jade or anyone else, for that matter, touches Lyra directly or otherwise, I stop being polite.”
I should be terrified. A part of me is. A small, selfish piece loosens when Amelia shrinks back.
Oliver’s voice cuts: the same voice that was in my ear last night, the same hands I let touch me.
Same mouth I let taste me. His anger scrapes me raw in two directions: I’m afraid of him.
I want him. His anger should be a warning. Instead, I feel it everywhere.
As Oliver walks away, leaving Amelia gasping and crying, he says his parting words. “Cover the bruises. You don’t want Leo thinking you’re cheating again.” Then he’s gone. I stand frozen, hand still clamped over my mouth, completely at a loss for words.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
I thought I was beginning to understand Oliver Caldwell. But the truth is, I’d only seen the man he wanted me to. Oliver is hiding something much darker, and I think I just caught a glimpse of who he really is beneath the mask he wears.