28. OLIVIA
OLIVIA
My eyes burned as I stared at my phone screen. My reflection was not cute. Eyes wide and bruised. Hair a tangled bird’s nest. I was still covered in blood, which had dried and turned stiff on my skin. I was a chronic picker, but I resisted the urge to pick.
It replayed in my head again. Gun. Lightning. Blood. Lucille’s wide, shocked eyes as her brain hemorrhaged in her skull. Even though I hadn’t liked the woman, she didn’t deserve to die like that.
She didn’t deserve to die because of me.
I shivered on the bed. The wet towel was balled up beside me. It was stained pink, but I couldn’t bring myself to grab it and throw it away. It felt important. A token of something monumental.
Or it was just a wet, bloodied towel, and I was a sentimental loser on the brink of a full mental breakdown.
Yeah. Probably that one.
I still couldn’t believe Madoc had cleaned my blood. Not only that, but he’d been…gentle. I didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing.
I shook my head, banishing the thought. It came hurtling right back.
I blamed the shock and adrenaline for the way my mind fixated on where he touched me.
The solemn look in his eyes. The way his face was blank, but not empty.
Knowing. Patient. It hadn’t been painless (I was raw, inside and out), but it had been…
nice. To be seen like that. To be understood without speaking.
God, I was pathetic.
Kindness from Madoc was like receiving a tongue bath from a lion. At some point, you expected to feel the teeth.
So much had changed in just twelve hours. I should’ve learned my lesson from the island.
Taking a breath, I unlocked my phone and pressed call. I waited and waited.
It clicked.
“Hey, this is Molly. Sorry I missed you, but I promise I’ll call you right back! In the meantime, leave us a message.”
Tears rushed to my eyes. I’d barely stopped crying, and here I was, blubbering all over again.
It was Molly’s old voicemail from two years ago. She hadn’t changed it since she’d been back. When she was missing, I used to listen to it on repeat like an obsessive stalker, hoping, praying, she’d pick up. Now it made me cripplingly depressed.
Everything about her had changed, even her voice. Gone was the upbeat know-it-all who always called you back. The weirdo who actually preferred calling over texting. These days, Molly’s voice was flat. Lifeless.
And she almost never called back.
I tried again, anyway.
I didn’t leave a message.
There was a knock on the door, and reality slammed back in. It was Ryle again. He was giving me space, which I appreciated.
“Hey,” he said softly. “You good?”
Numbly, I shook my head.
“Hug?”
Numbly, I nodded.
He burst in like a labrador finally permitted to enter the house. He didn’t hesitate and tackled me with such force, I couldn’t help but choke on my laughter.
“Sorry, sorry,” he said, pulling back. “Shit is getting real out there. Nate just came back. Apparently, we’re calling the snake’s bluff.”
“Oh,” I said. Numb.
Ryle paused, looking me over carefully. He touched a spot on my cheek. “You’ll be okay,” he said.
I sniffled, shaking my head. “How do you know?”
Ryle shrugged, smiling. “Well, even if you’re not, we could die in a plane crash any second now.”
I laughed again. It wasn’t funny. It was super depressing, actually. But that was what Ryle did. Casual trauma. Chit chat about impending death.
My phone buzzed in my hand. My heart leaped into my throat.
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I told Ryle with a watery smile.
“Cool, cool. You can help us figure out Madoc’s latest puzzle: how to make the plane skinny.”
I waited until he was gone before I answered. Hand shaking, I pressed the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Olivia, darling.” Preacher’s warm voice floated into my ear. “I think we need to have a chat…”