2. Olivia
Olivia
Humidity smacks me in the face the moment I step through the lone warehouse door, revealing a place I’d rather not be. Shivers run down my spine at the eerie feeling skittering across my flesh. I’m being watched; there are eyes everywhere.
Blinking several times, my eyes adjust from the bright sunshine outside to the dimly lit room.
Darkness clings to the far corners of the warehouse, casting bone-chilling shadows that dance in the muted sunlight from the broken windows.
I swallow hard when I nearly stumble over discarded and twisted metal lying on the ground, surrounded by thick, red stains on the concrete.
It’s not blood. Nope. It’s oil left behind from whatever this warehouse used to be. This is absolutely not a murder house. At least, that’s what I whisper to myself. Maybe I’m overstimulated and too overwhelmed to approach this place with a rational mind.
Fuck.
Instinctively, I reach for my weapon. The one I always carry with me on missions, but I freeze when all I’m met with is the fuzzy softness of my sweatpants Simon forced me into earlier.
Memories of JJ standing before me with glistening eyes, pleading for me to talk to him, flash through my mind as the knife slips from my fingers and lands carelessly on the floor.
I left it. The only weapon I could use. I ran out of my dorm without grabbing it again.
Fuck.
Today was such a good day. Relaxing even. The most I’ve let go since I got to Greenwood. Then, JJ had to come and ruin it all with his stupid face and stupid words.
How did he figure out it was me? I’m undercover.
In the perfect disguise! Okay, maybe not perfect.
But I was pulling Oliver off well. No one batted an eye when I walked on campus dressed as Oliver Davenport.
Everyone believed I was him. A man. Not Olivia.
I may be a little scrawny with not much muscle, but I blew them away with my fighting techniques. Take that, Brutus! You massive bully.
Thank God, I’ll never have to stand before him again. He’s going to annihilate me if I go back. If being the keyword.
So how did JJ put the pieces together so easily? Simon knew because he walked in on me in the shower and saw me in all my naked glory.
Not my finest moment. But still… How did it all come to this? How did I climb into the skin of a man and get thrust into such a bullshit situation? What was Jonathan thinking, sending me here to confront my past?
I’d love to have a long conversation with JJ while he was tied to a chair. Okay, more like an interrogation. But still, JJ and I need to talk. Or would need to, if I were to go back. Which I’m not. Ever. Going. Back.
There’s no way in hell that I’m setting foot back onto Greenwood University’s grounds. Absolutely not.
Which brings me here, to Jonathan. In a creepy as fuck warehouse meant for murders, not conversations. I recheck my messages, confirm I’m in the right place, and nod.
Yup. This is the address. Nothing to be worried about. Nothing at all.
So, why does my heart speed up like someone is watching me from the shadows, ready to kill me?
I take a few more steps, gaining courage as I walk into the middle of the large, dilapidated warehouse.
My nose wrinkles at the sight of the cracks in the concrete spreading in every direction, jagged edges of glass lying on the floor, and graffiti lining the walls with images I can’t quite make out.
I tilt my head, trying to focus on the art, and finally get my wits about me, remembering I have a flashlight on my phone.
Having JJ confront me really messed with my mind.
I rear back slightly at the shadowy figures painted on the walls of the warehouse.
It is a painted tall man, with a brimmed hat, standing sideways.
But he’s nothing but blackness—a shadow on the wall, almost like a warning for anyone who enters.
My light illuminates the spaces beside it, revealing similar figures.
The graffiti trails off, turning into colorful artworks that take up the entire wall.
There are no markers of who the artist is or who they represent, but I can only assume we’re in their territory.
Great.
I’m in one of the gang’s territories in my sweatpants with no weapons. Hopefully, this place isn’t a front for nefarious things happening in the basement. Surely, Jonathan wouldn’t do that to me.
Right?
Licking my lips and trying to shake off the massive amounts of adrenaline soaring through my veins, I walk away from the art and focus on finding Jonathan.
“This is how people die in horror movies,” I grumble softly, hugging myself to soothe the alarm bells ringing in my mind.
Nothing bad will happen, Liv. You’re meeting Jonathan. He’s the good guy. He’s on your side. Masked men aren’t about to jump out from the creepy shadows and do more than scream boo with a knife clutched in their hands. Nope.
I shine my light around, noting the empty corners and lack of doors. It’s one big room with nothing underneath it or offices in the back. This was probably used for storage. Maybe vehicles, judging by the way the concrete is stained on almost every surface.
Yeah, this was a car storage place.
My shoulders sag in relief. Well, until a door I didn’t see pops open, and footsteps come toward me at a clipped pace. I twist, shining my light on the figure and nearly curse when Jonathan comes into view, holding his hand in front of his eyes with a scowl on his face.
“Agent Seven,” he grumbles, flinching when I lower the light, leaving us in relative darkness. The sun barely streams through the windows now, making it creepier than before.
Agent Seven.
He’s gone back to his professional roots. He only calls me that when he means business. An ominous warning bell rings in my mind, making the hairs along my arms and on the back of my neck rise.
What is happening?
Instinctively—again, because damn you, instincts—I reach for my weapon that’s usually at my hip. My shoulders hunch toward my ears as frustration builds when I remember I accidentally dropped it in my hasty escape.
Hopefully, it’s safe. That knife was one of the first presents Jonathan ever gave me after I was healed enough to start training.
“This is for you, Liv.” He doesn’t say the words—so you’re never helpless again—but I know it’s implied when he hands me a large hunting knife as I dress for my first day of training in the bunker. “Pull it out,” he says, nodding at the sheathed knife resting in my hands.
With trembling fingers, I slowly pull out the knife, marveling at the jagged teeth reflecting in the buzzing overhead lights.
“It’s huge.” I gape.
I’m no stranger to violence, weapons, and blood.
However, I was never allowed to have my own.
Nope. My father, a Mafia king, never let the daughter he abused, locked up, and pushed around have her own weapons to defend herself.
Because he knew the moment I had a chance, I’d stab him through the heart.
And I will one day. Whenever I find him.
“Do you see this?” Jonathan asks, stepping forward and running his finger lightly over shiny metal. “Carbon steel. Walnut handle. All handmade for you, Liv. And look…”
Tears form in my eyes at the inscription burned into shiny steel. “Vengeance?”
Jonathan’s gaze flicks to mine, and he nods with an odd expression crossing his features.
“When the time is right,” he whispers, squeezing my shoulder.
“Now, make sure you hide that. Jordy can be a bit thrifty when it comes to weapons.” He cringes slightly and steps back, making his way to the entrance to our shared room.
“That’s special. Only for you, Liv. Okay?
Now, let’s go. We have a long way to go before you’re suitable for the field. ”
In a year’s time, and after lots of healing, I fought my way to the top of the Veritas agents. I took every opportunity to fight, plan, and think about the past to fuel me. And fuel me, it did. Every second of every day, getting back at everyone who had ever hurt me consumed me wholly.
Although I never thought I’d set foot in Greenwood again. It was all a dream to remind myself why I was in Veritas in the first place. Because of them. They stole everything from me.
My family. My name. My fucking life.
My fingers curl into fists as the first signs of a headache creep up my neck like vines, tightening my muscles and sending pain through my skull.
My encounter with JJ and his accusations run through my mind, haunting me.
Everything inside me hurts, twisting and pulling.
I know I’m coming down from the adrenaline.
Oh, and the running I hate. Soon, I’ll crash completely and need a bed to sleep it off in.
Hopefully, at the bunker in my comfortable bed with no one around.
“Agent Zero,” I retort through the pain, trying to stand under his scrutiny, but failing miserably.
“You’re not in disguise?” he questions, quirking a brow. “Is this how you were found out?” He waves a hand at my wardrobe and the missing glasses as disappointment twists his expression.
I cross my arms over my binder-less chest. “No,” I say, attempting to hold back my panic from his judging stare. “I was in my room, watching TV, and JJ marched in and knew exactly who I was.”
I lick my lips when Jonathan nods, rubbing at his chin. Panic consumes me at the thought of JJ. He knows my secret. He could be sitting Hux and Mack down right now and informing them I’m Olivia. Not Oliver. Even though I asked him to keep it a secret. Fuck. They’ll know I’m not dead, either.
Or would JJ keep his word? Would he hold my secret close to his chest and keep it to himself? It’s been so long since I’ve trusted them. I don’t know what he’ll do or if he’ll keep his word.
“Agent Seven,” he says calmly, holding up a hand to stop me. “You’re saying that Jasper Jones found out your identity through other means? You didn’t inform him? And no one else knows?”