1. Olivia #2
My fingers tremble. The hate, rage, and pain bear down on me like a heavy weight on my shoulders, urging me forward. I’ve waited years to do this. To enact my revenge and vengeance against these assholes.
I take several deep breaths, regaining myself. Reeling myself back in from the brink of destruction. Of me. Him. Everything.
“What are you talking about? Please. Just tell me. Just…” His whispers penetrate through the fog clouding my brain and bring me back. Realization hits me over the damn head.
I can’t.
I can’t stab him or tell him what he wants to hear. He’s putting on an act. Like he doesn’t have a clue what I’m talking about. He’s good, I’ll give him that. In another life, he should have been an actor.
But I won’t stand here and listen to the lies he has to tell.
“No, I…” I shake my head as the knife slips from my grip and drops to the carpeted floor with a soft thud.
But I don’t have time to pick it up now.
Or think about it as desperation fills my mind.
I need to leave this room before the walls crash in on me and take me hostage with JJ.
I need to get out of his sight and catch my breath.
“I have to go. No! I mean, you have to go.” My words tremble off my heavy tongue in a rush, mashing together before I can stop them.
Leaving this room is my only option now. If he tries to stop me, then I’ll throw myself out the window and run. No. What I need to do is regroup and calm all the volatile emotions taking over. I need to meet with Jonathan. I can’t stand here doing nothing.
Taking a step back, I find my phone on my desk and send Jonathan a quick message. JJ watches me, enamored by my existence. Almost frozen from the confrontation, or lack thereof.
The only sounds echoing through the room are his heavy breaths as my fingers shake, typing out a short and sweet message to Jonathan.
Agent 7: I’ve been compromised. I need to meet you now.
Agent 0: 20 minutes. 3585 E. Mound Rd.
Twenty minutes. Perfect. The best excuse to get the fuck out of here for good before I do something stupid.
I swallow hard, shoving my phone into my sweatpants pocket.
Thank God I wore baggy lounge clothes to binge-watch TV with Simon.
T-shirt. Sweatpants. Thick fuzzy socks. At least I’m dressed in something presentable and don’t have to change into jeans in front of JJ.
The only downfall is that my binder is missing, my contacts aren’t hiding the brown of my eyes, and my glasses are on the charger.
Rookie fucking mistake. I never should have gotten so comfortable with Simon.
Yes, he knew I was a girl beneath my mask, but I should have hidden myself better.
Been a better fucking agent. If I had been in disguise, then I could have told JJ he was crazy.
That I’m not this Olivia person. Just a lookalike.
But JJ caught me red-handed.
I ignore the way JJ watches me scuttle around the room, collecting my things and trying to alleviate the pressure building in my chest. It builds and builds, crushing every organ inside me. Especially my heart. My poor, broken, and betrayed heart.
My skin crawls when I turn, staring straight into his familiar eyes. So fucking familiar that my heart nearly skips a beat at the way he looks at me with a dazed expression. The reality of me standing in front of him must be sinking into his skin and burrowing into his brain.
I’m alive.
“This stays between us.” I leave no room for argument. Sure, he could tell the others with a simple text. In fact, I bet he will. He’ll run to them and tell them everything that’s transpired here.
And then, I’ll be fucked.
But after this? I’ll be out of here; I have no doubt about that. There’s no way Jonathan will keep me in the field after JJ recognized me. He’ll send someone new in. Someone fresh. Someone else to finish the job I couldn’t complete.
I’m a failure. I couldn’t handle the most important job of my career. I couldn’t take the heat. I shake my head, trying to remind myself that I’m good at my job. Failures happen. Everyday. But I’m not used to it. I’ve never truly failed at one of my missions.
So, why this one? Why did I have to come here?
“Spitfire,” he croaks, reaching for me, but thinks better of it when I home in on his hand hanging in the air.
He hastily drops it to his side. “Spitfire, please. This is killing me,” he gasps out, tapping his chest several times.
“You’re alive. I…I went to your funeral.
I…I want to understand, please,” he begs with shaky knees and folding his hands together.
“Don’t touch me,” I hiss, frantically stepping back from him with trembling legs.
I’m almost at the limit of how much more I can take, which isn’t a lot.
“You have no right. Not after you killed me!” I grit out through clenched teeth, taking another step toward the door and trying to sneak around him without him blocking my only escape.
He reaches for me, and his eyes widen at my accusation.
Complete devastation washes over every inch of his body, and he sags, staggering back a step, and clutching his chest directly over his heart.
His lips flap open and closed several times, and a ghostly white steals the color from his sun-kissed skin.
I don’t give him a chance to say another word or try to grab me. Or convince me that I’m wrong. I bolt out the door, past Simon, who furrows his brows and gets up quickly with our early lunch laid out on the coffee table.
“Family emergency,” I say, taking off out the dorm door, not giving anyone a chance to respond.
Panic consumes me when I quickly escape down the steps and take the back exit out of the dorm building that no one seems to use.
Dread sits heavy in my gut when voices from the front of the building echo through campus, almost stopping me in my tracks.
They’re low. Almost sounding pained. Fuck.
Right. Dane’s memorial service is today and is happening outside the front of the dorm building.
It’s something Simon and I were going to attend after we had lunch and got dressed.
Shit.
Nerves eat away at me the further I get from campus.
Could he be following me? I peer over my shoulder, noting the empty spaces around me.
No people. No crowds. Only the bright sunshine beaming.
Everyone must be nursing a hangover from the party Hux, JJ, and Mack threw at the graveyard.
Or they’re busy at the memorial. Which is fine.
Whatever. As long as there aren’t witnesses to my escape.
I make it a few blocks from campus before the tears flow freely down my cheeks, covering me in my own despair.
I’m so dead. Jonathan is going to kill me for my failures. Maybe more than kill me. He’s going to ground me in the damn bunker for eternity and never let me lead a case again.
I’m so fucked.