Olivia
I woke up feeling like a great big bag of dirt.
My head throbbed, my back ached, and there was sand in places, all the places. I groaned and opened my eyes. The pale mauve sky of dawn stared back at me.
How the hell was I still alive?
The events of the last twelve hours flashed through my head like a masochistic highlight reel. The boat, the air vent, the war rooms, the sex dungeon—god, the tunnels. A bitter taste flooded my mouth. Molly.
Panic zipped through me like an alarm. I sat upright, clutching my head, looking around frantically.
A shaky exhale left me when I spotted her.
She was still on the dock, standing like a sentinel.
We’d never found the keys to the yacht, but part of me had still worried she’d find a way to disappear again.
She didn’t feel real yet.
Our reunion hadn’t gone anything like I imagined it.
I knew it was stupid of me to hope she’d be the same person, like the last two years hadn’t happened, and she was still that annoying, uptight, know-it-all older sister.
But the Molly I knew was still missing, and I didn’t know what to do with that.
An arm tightened around my waist.
Startled, I looked down. Jax was still asleep, his face tense even in dreams, but he held onto me. His hair was mussed and full of sand. Bruises littered his skin, including the ones I’d given him.
His split lip was mine. I did that
I wondered what it said about me that I liked it.
Cringing at myself, I lifted his arm and tried to extract myself cleanly. Of course, he fought me, even unconscious. His arm tightened again, so tight that it felt like a boa constrictor was circling my waist.
“Jax!” I hissed.
His eyes snapped open.
He blinked once, registered my face. His arm didn’t loosen—if anything, it tightened even more, so I felt my ribs begin to creak. “What?” he grumbled, voice thick with sleep.
“It’s dawn,” I wheezed, tugging at his arm.
“Five more minutes.”
“Jax!” I let out a strangled giggle. His mouth quirked at the sound, and he opened his eyes fully. For a whole beautiful second, he looked peaceful and sleep-dumb, like we’d just spent the night frolicking on the beach and not taking down an international trafficking ring.
Then I heard the unmistakable sound of chopper blades.
Instantly, his face hardened, and the violence returned to his eyes. He snapped upright and squinted over the ocean. A white helicopter was approaching to land.
“Fuck.”
He was on his feet and moving in the next second. I brushed off the sand and stood, ignoring the dull pang in my spine. The crew moved like trained soldiers, hiding the girls, finding the weapons, preparing for war.
Jax returned to my side just as the chopper landed and the door slid open. Sand whipped around us like a tornado, momentarily obscuring our vision. Jax grabbed my arm and shoved me behind him. My feet moved dumbly, my throat tight with fear.
Someone else put a gun in my hand.
I almost dropped it. Fingers squeezed my wrist, hard enough to bruise. A grinning skull with rose petals stared up at me like an omen.
“I don’t—” I started.
Madoc shushed me and squeezed my wrist again.
His touch was searing, even though his hand was ice-cold.
There was no time to second-guess myself.
The crows stood in a single line in front of me, the first line of defense.
Between their bodies, I saw four huge men approach, armed to the teeth.
They were bigger and more intimidating than the men from the boat.
These were the real enforcers—the clean-up crew.
The gun was heavy and awkward in my hand.
I’d never shot anything before. Never even held a gun. But I was the queen of faking it, so I curled my fingers around it and pretended like I wasn’t shaking like a leaf.
A flash of white caught my attention.
Between the four men walked a fifth man in a blinding white suit. A large silver cross glinted on his chest. I froze, my eyes widening into saucers. There was no mistaking him dressed like that.
A familiar voice floated over... “Olivia? Darling?”
The relief nearly floored me. “Preacher.” I moved forward, trying to wedge myself between Jax and Callum. Neither of them budged, and Jax shot me a warning look.
Preacher was here.
Tears burned my eyes. It wasn’t another wave of traffickers. It wasn’t Salvadore. We weren’t about to be gunned down and tossed into the sea.
Or so I thought.
“Who the fuck are you?” Jax demanded as soon as Preacher stopped. Jax raised his gun and pointed it directly at Preacher. The four huge men on either side of him responded in kind—guns pointed, tensions ran high.
My heart lurched. “Jax, no!”
Jax ignored me.
To his credit, Preacher didn’t look perturbed by the crew of guns. He was a hard man to crack, his kindness and empathy so deep-rooted that I feared for him. I knew Jax could kill him. Just like I knew the men on either side of Preacher would retaliate if he did.
“No need for alarm,” Preacher said, his voice warm and British. It wrapped around me like a blanket. It was the same voice he used to deliver sermons and console grieving widows. “I come in peace.”
Jax didn’t budge. He jerked his chin at the four huge men. “Peace has some pretty big guns.”
Preacher smiled and lifted his hand. At once, the four men lowered their weapons. Jax and his crew didn’t follow suit. Preacher gave him a considering look. “It’s good to finally meet you, Jackson.”
Jax stiffened in front of me. His eyes touched mine briefly.
“I didn’t—” I started, then stopped. The lie felt tacky on my tongue.
Preacher spared me. “Olivia didn’t betray your confidence. I’ve known about you for a while, Jackson—”
“Jax,” he corrected coldly.
Preacher nodded. “I’m afraid we’re running out of time. You don’t know me, but I know you.” His eyes lifted over the crew. “All of you.”
“What do you want?” Callum asked, his voice deep and dangerous.
“To make you an offer,” Preacher said simply.
My heart sank at the determined twinkle in his eye.
I knew Preacher had an agenda—I’d known it the moment I told him that Jax and his crew were on the island.
But Preacher kept his cards close to his chest, and an awful, nervous feeling niggled at my mind.
Had I made a mistake?
A cold chuckle made me stiffen.
I looked over at Madoc, who, apart from his clutched arm, showed no sign of pain. His posture was loose and relaxed, as if we were discussing the stock market. Not bartering with loaded guns.
“He wants the painting,” Madoc said, sounding amused, of all things. Of course he is. Madoc is crazy. He was wrong, though.
He had to be.
A jolt of pure shock went through me at Preacher’s crinkled smile. “There is that infamous brain I’ve heard so much about. Very astute, Madoc. Yes, I will take the painting. It was stolen from the Vatican a good decade or so ago. It should be returned to its rightful place.”
Madoc didn’t react to the use of his name. But a tremor of disbelief traveled down the line. Jax barked a bitter laugh. “Right, godfucker. You’ll just throw away a cool hundred million for the greater good.”
“You laugh,” Preacher observed with a patient smile, “but you risked that and more to save these girls.”
“We’re not saints,” Jax said.
“No, you’re not,” Preacher agreed. “One good deed does not absolve a lifetime of sins. That is where I can help you.”
“Save your breath,” Jax said, his grin savage and dangerous. “We’re not in the market for salvation, father. Hell looks pretty good from up here.”
Preacher’s smile dropped. He suddenly looked burdened, as if he were about to deliver bad news. The gun slipped in my sweaty palm.
“I’m afraid you might not have a choice,” Preacher said gravely. He gestured to the man on his immediate left. Guns lifted in warning, but the man didn’t raise his gun.
He pulled out a cellphone.
He tossed it at Jax, who caught it mid-air and glanced at the screen. “The fuck is this?”
“Your new contract,” Preacher said. The huge men on either side of him bristled. A flash of something like excitement crossed their faces. The sinking feeling in my stomach worsened. What the hell is going on?
Whatever Jax saw on the cellphone made his shoulders drop. He lowered the gun, and his jaw flexed. “Fifty million,” he said bitterly.
Preacher nodded. “Each.”
Callum reached over and plucked the phone out of Jax’s hand. I saw a glimpse of numbers and familiar profiles on the screen before Callum tossed the phone onto the sand between them.
I stepped forward, my voice strangled. “What’s going on?”
Jax turned to me. His face was devastating—hard, distant, cold. I searched his eyes, hoping to see something, a glimpse of the man who woke up beneath me.
But it was Preacher who spoke. “Your employer, Dr. Z, is not a forgiving man. The contracts went live an hour ago. They are waiting to meet you on the mainland.”
My brain churned. I still didn’t understand.
Jax’s teeth flashed. He didn’t look at me as he explained: “Our boss has put a hit on each of us. Fifty million a pop. Every crew in his syndicate will be hunting us down.”
“The Vipers,” Ryle whispered, shuddering.
Preacher’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “They’re already on their way, child. Which is why we must act quickly. We don’t have time to negotiate.”
Jax laughed again, the sound cruel and hoarse. “How convenient for you,” he spat.
“I will protect you,” Preacher said. “If you work for me.”
Madoc was nodding away, like that was exactly what he’d expected.
“There it is,” Jax mocked sharply. “The fucking punchline. What do you want from us?”
“I am not delusional, Jackson,” Preacher said.
His voice deepened, as if delivering a sermon to a large, eager crowd.
“I know what you are—what you have all done. You are sinners on a path to damnation. I am offering you a different path, one that serves a greater good, even if it require certain…extreme measures.”
Zola scoffed. “You want vigilantes?”
“I want prophets,” Preacher corrected her softly. “You all stand at a crossroads. One path leads to certain death. Another to rebirth. Choose wisely.”
“Or else what?” Jax asked. His smile was not kind. “You’ll kill us here?”
Preacher waited a beat, then said: “Yes.”
My body lurched into action before my brain caught up. “No, wait!”
Suddenly, I found myself standing between the guns, like a total moron. Jax reached out to snatch me back, his face pale, lip lifted furiously.
“Get the fuck back over here,” he growled.
I didn’t move.
I did flinch when Preacher’s hand landed softly on my shoulder. It was probably intended for comfort—instead, it felt awfully like a claim.
Look at what you did now, Molly said in my head.
My eyes flashed over to the real thing. She hadn’t moved from the dock, not even an inch.
But she was a stark reminder of everything Preacher had done for me.
He was the only one who’d believed in me—who’d given me everything I needed to find the island and Molly.
But there was also Jax.
Violent, infuriating, impossible Jax.
Jax, who looked about two seconds away from a full-on coronary, his gaze pinned to where Preacher was touching me. “She’s not part of the deal,” Jax said, each word forced out through clenched teeth. “You can’t have her.”
Preacher, either oblivious or secretly having a death wish, squeezed my shoulder deliberately and said: “Olivia is already one of mine.”
Jax’s gun arm started to shake. Beside him, Madoc smiled dangerously, a slow, terrifying slip into unhinged bloodlust.
A shiver wracked down my spine.
“What will it be, Jackson?” Preacher said.
“Go fuck yourself.”
Jax lifted his gun. The men on either side of Preacher reacted instantly. My eyes slammed shut, waiting for a ringing gunshot. Preacher’s hand tightened on my shoulder. He didn’t try to move me out of the firing line. A tiny, hurt voice whispered: you are his shield.
When I opened my eyes, Jax was watching me over his gun. “He’s got you fooled, princess,” he said quietly. I hung on every word. “He’s a mob boss, just like our boss. He takes advantage of desperate people.”
“No, Jax, it’s not like that.”
Right?
Jax smiled. It looked final.
Peacher shifted behind me. “Time to choose, Jackson. Join us, and I will protect you. Give you a chance to redeem yourselves. Or I will kill you here and remove the corruption from the world.”
Jax’s eyes didn’t change. His smile didn’t waver. His arm shook, then steadied. “Move, Olivia.”
I shook my head tearfully. “Jax, please.” The gun was too heavy in my hand. I wanted to drop it. Instead, I clutched it tighter.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Madoc’s smile widen.
“Choose.”
His finger twitched on the trigger.