Undercover at Greenwood

1. Olivia

Olivia

“Spitfire.”

My heart beats in my ears at the long-forgotten nickname, leaving his filthy, betraying tongue.

“You’re alive,” JJ struggles to gasp out the words.

His chest heaves several times. Those glistening golden-brown eyes that I used to stare into for hours assess me, looking me up and down and committing me to memory. Almost as if I’d disappear the moment he blinks.

Maybe I will.

My fight-or-flight response soars through my veins the moment disbelief shudders through him. His eyes darken to dangerous levels. Levels I never experienced when we were kids. At least, not at me. Hux? Mack? Oh, yeah. But me? Never. His fingers glide over his shirt, rubbing over his heart.

“You’re alive?” he questions again, with a hardened edge to his voice. “How? What…” He trails off, running a hand through his dark hair and shaking his head.

Instinctively, my feet take me back a step, attempting to avoid this confrontation. Run. I need to run out the door of my dorm and away from this school. This was all a mistake. A gross miscalculation on Jonathan’s part in sending me here.

A lump forms in my throat. Heavy. Unrelenting. Burning. My eyes sting from the wetness threatening to cloud my vision.

I’ve been compromised. Something that’s never happened before. I was so careful. Methodical, even. All this work. Cutting my hair. Changing my name and appearance. The binder. The emotional turmoil of returning to this hellhole.

All for nothing.

For a fleeting moment, I thought I’d pull this off. I was confident. Olivia who? She’s no one. Dead. I have a grave marker to prove it beyond this building. The me everyone knew is buried beneath six feet of dirt.

Now, I’m Oliver Davenport. Male. Student at Greenwood. Sent by Veritas to investigate Franco and his three foster sons. The men who murdered me in cold blood when I was seventeen and watched as I died on the floor of my home.

I never wanted to set foot in this stupid town again. I never wanted to see my ex-best friends ever again.

Certainly not in my classes. At parties. Fights. All around me. Talking with me. Goading me. Making me their enemy.

But they never knew who I really was. The girl beneath the mask I wear. Never looked at me like I was the one they betrayed five years ago.

And now?

Jasper Jeremiah Jones is two feet in front of me with unshed tears glistening in his eyes, staring at me like he has seen a ghost.

Unraveling me. Seeing beneath my flesh, straight to my broken soul. It weeps at the sight of him.

“Olivia,” he signs, moving his fingers and spelling out my name. But not any name.

No.

I flinch back, tightening my grip on the knife I had snatched up the moment he set foot in my room. He might as well have stabbed me all over again with the way pain ricochets through my chest and straight through my rapidly beating heart.

The special name. The one he created only for me. My sign. My name. Seeing him sign it immediately brings me back to that day.

“What are you doing?” I sign, sitting next to JJ at the picnic table in the backyard of the mansion.

My chest fills with pride when he grins back at me. Long gone is the anger that rested in his eyes for the first few months he resided here. The pain. The sorrow from losing his parents and sister.

Here sits the boy who’s come out of his shell and embraced every special part of himself.

He gazes at me, excitement lifting his lips. ‘I learned something new today with my tutor.’

Every day after school, he meets one-on-one with his ASL tutor. The same tutor we all studied with, so we could communicate with JJ and others with hearing loss. Although JJ has recently been fitted with hearing aids, he still loves to converse through ASL.

It’s almost like our own private language where we can express everything we’re feeling without someone snooping on us.

“What did you learn?” I sign clumsily. One day, I’ll improve my ASL skills. But today is not the day.

He grins and shows me a new sign. Something I haven’t seen before. My brows furrow when he does it again.

“What does it mean?” I ask, tilting my head when he does it a third time.

“It’s your name.” Pride puffs out his chest when he does it a fourth time. ‘I don’t have to spell it out anymore. I learned to make you your own sign.’

My heart flutters in my chest. “Do it again!” I excitedly say, ignoring the butterflies bursting to life inside me at the sight of my name on his fingers. He made a sign for me. Something special between us. A sign that the other boys didn’t get.

An ache spears through my damn soul when JJ signs my name again with desperation. A fat tear rolls down his reddened cheek, and he does it again. And again. And again.

Pure agony rolls through me at the familiarity. He doesn’t deserve it. None of it. Not the special name. Not seeing me again after what they so callously did to me.

They deserve nothing but a ghost.

“No,” I grit out, shaking my head and tightening my fingers around the knife I’m holding. “Stop it!”

JJ shudders at the harshness of my voice. The raw emotions are spilling out of me, no matter how hard I try to repress them and shove them away. Slowly, he lowers his fingers and sucks in several breaths.

My hand tightens on the knife again. Thank you, Jordy, for the gift you left me—I mentally chant as I try to slow the frantic beat of my heart and rein in the overwhelming need to run.

I could.

I could stab JJ in the chest and make a break for it.

Revenge, right? He watched as my throat parted beneath a blade and then set me on fire.

An eye for an eye. My belongings would mysteriously be retrieved, and my existence would be wiped from this room and school.

No fingerprints. No hair. Nothing would trace back to Veritas or me.

Oliver who? He never existed. No matter how many people would miss him.

My crime would be invisible. Like it never happened. Like I was never here. The only indication would be my murderer’s blood soaking through the floors and staining the carpet.

But what would that solve?

Nothing.

JJ’s death would only bring Franco’s entire gang to this school. After me. It could endanger the entire student body. Violence. Blood. Retaliation. Everything in their arsenal would be thrown in my direction until they brought me down to my knees. Again.

And I’ll never let that happen. I’ll never bow to these boys again.

I’ll make sure they’ll be the ones bowing to me. Begging me to spare their lives as they’re dragged away and thrown into prison forever.

Just like they did to me.

I may not have bars in front of my face. My prison is the name, life, and family that were ripped away from me. The memories that hold me tight and make me scream through my sleep. The trauma I endured to get to the Olivia standing here today.

As much as I want to embed this knife deep into his chest. I can’t.

I won’t hurt them. Or stoop to their level.

The repercussions to my career are too severe.

No matter how much pain I want to inflict for what they made me suffer through.

But I need to get the fuck out of this room.

The walls are closing in. Oxygen is waning.

The room sways, blurring together in a swirl of colors.

I need to leave. Desperately. Then I can meet up with Jonathan and have him get me out of here.

There’s no way he’ll make me stay. Not now that JJ knows who I am.

JJ swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. His brows furrow. Confusion takes over.

“No?” he whispers. “You owe me. I… You…” He stops momentarily, waving his hands around.

“You’re alive! I mourned you! We mourned your death.

You were ours. And you… You faked your death?

You…” His voice betrays him when it cracks with emotions that I don’t understand.

“You’re alive. You were dead, but now you’re alive and…

” He trails off through a trembling lip.

His gaze snaps to me, hardening when I stand taller.

Straighter. As his words pierce through me, embedding themselves into my soul.

Fake my death? Faked it? Like he had nothing to do with it?

Anger I’ve never felt before envelops me, wrapping me tightly in its embrace. Taking me over. Red tints my vision.

“Faked my death?” I spit. “Faked my fucking death?”

Now, can I stab him? No. No. Be good. Don’t leave behind a dead body when you’re about to make a break for it.

I rear back, feeling like I’ve been slapped by his damn words. Faking it? What the absolute fuck? I didn’t fake anything. My scars prove it. My trauma proves it. If only he could glimpse into my mind and relive that night repeatedly as I do. Then, he’d see who was faking it.

He’s the reason I’m invisible. Hux. Mack. They all worked together to help Franco bring me to my knees and beg for my life.

“How convenient you forgot!” I grit out between clenched teeth, trying hard not to shout. If I shout, then it’ll only draw attention to this conversation. That’s the last thing I want to do. The fewer people who know who I really am under the mask I’ve been wearing, the better.

I suck in several breaths, attempting to control my emotions. Emotions get you killed. Emotions make you reckless and stupid.

“F-forgot?” he whispers and signs at the same time with a distressed tone. “Forgot what?” Confusion darkens his eyes and twists his expression. I almost fall for it. The big puppy-dog eyes, begging me to hear him out. But I won’t make that mistake ever again.

Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? You’ll get stabbed.

I take a step forward, menace dripping off me in waves. “You forgot what happened to me. What you did. What they did.” The edge of my knife rests in the middle of his chest. I could slice through him like butter.

Do it. Do it, Liv! Make him pay for betraying your trust and taking your family’s lives. Your life!