3. JJ
JJ
She’s alive. My spitfire. My fucking girl.
The girl who colored my world so brightly that the moment she died, I was drowning in gray. Dismal and fucking miserable. I’ve been half alive since she was put into the ground. Like my soul went down with hers, too.
But now her heart beats. She’s alive. Breathing. She’s real. Here. Warm.
And so fucking angry.
“You killed me!”
Her hate-filled words pierce through my skull like sharp arrows, landing how she wanted them to. My head throbs with all this information I’m not processing very well. I don’t understand. Killed her? How could she think that?
Olivia.
My damn girl. Our girl. The one we mourned and buried and took a piece of us with her.
Is alive.
She’s back in Greenwood. Did she ever truly leave? Hide? Go on the run without us?
How? Where?
Fuck.
Where the hell did she go? Why is this happening? How the hell can I tell the others she exists?
I can’t wrap my mind around this. Around her.
Was she a mirage? A hallucination my soul was desperate to see?
Were my eyes betraying me all over again?
The moment Olivia walked into my life after the accident that took my parents and sister, she made everything better.
She learned ASL beside me and sat with me at school when the others were busy. She was my best friend and first love.
My head pounds mercilessly as I rub my temple, thinking back over the last five years without her. The void she created when she left this world. She was gone. In the fucking grave beyond the walls of this room. We buried her. Mourned her for years. Never getting over the girl who stole our hearts.
My grief feels like a lie—a stab to the back.
For years, I’ve wasted tears when I could have been holding her close and protecting her.
Like I should have that night when the fire broke out and killed her, her mom, and her sister.
Instead, I’ve been drowning, held under by the mere thought of her leaving us so violently.
Burned by a fire and eviscerated. So much so that nothing remained of her.
I need to see her again. Confront her about the past and why she faked it all. To hurt us? But why? Why would she want to do that? Why does she think we killed her?
“Hey, man. Are you good?” Simon asks, pulling me from my tumultuous thoughts and bringing me back to the present.
I blink several times, looking around the room until my gaze lands on Simon.
His brows furrow in confusion as he checks me over repeatedly.
Simon. Olivia’s roommate. Her friend. Or Oliver’s friend.
Fuck. Does he know? I’ve always seen him by her side.
He lives with her. I haven’t interacted with the guy much, but I do know everything there is to know about him.
Like everyone else on campus.
I run a hand down my face, clearing away the haziness that’s taken over my brain.
“What?” I ask, trying to knock the ringing from my ears and the shock from my system.
“I asked if you were okay?” he asks again, tilting his head. “Oli left, and you’re standing here. I…” His lips continue to move, but my thoughts drown out the words he’s speaking.
Oli.
Olivia. I’m in her room. Or Oliver Davenport’s dorm room, where she’s been living since school started.
Fuck.
Olivia has been back in Greenwood and fucking alive for over two weeks. Two weeks of walking by us. Going to class with us. Being in our territory in disguise. Why? What the hell possessed her to do such a thing?
Why is she alive, and we’re the last to know?
“I’m good,” I croak, clearing my throat and offering Simon a soft smile. Even when I don’t feel it. Everything inside me is swirling like a dark thundercloud about to erupt. The grief. The anger. The hope. Everything I can’t put into words.
His face twists. “You’re pale. And where did Oli run off to? Did he say family emergency? We were having a nice Buffy marathon.” I nearly snort at the mention of Buffy, because of course, she pulled him into watching that.
Oh, how little she has changed. At least, in that regard.
The Olivia I once knew would never cut her hair or dress how she is now.
She was all purples and pinks and frequently forced us to go to the mall with her.
At the time, it was hell. We humored her, wanting to spend every second we could with her.
It’s always the little things you miss when someone dies. Or, in this case, fakes their death.
“Yeah, he said family emergency,” I say with an even tone now, answering Simon’s previous question. “She…” I shake my head. “He took off quickly. You think his family is okay?” I turn fully to look at Simon, whose eyebrows meet his hairline.
“He,” he emphasizes, tilting his head with a frown.
“Hasn’t said anything about his family.” His eyes narrow on me.
“And you better not harass him, either.” There’s an edge to his voice.
A protectiveness that’s nice to hear. She’s obviously made good friends with him, and he knows her secret.
Well, only the fact that she’s a woman dressed and acting like a man.
Not the rest of it. Not like I know her.
I nod once. Of course, she hasn’t mentioned her family to him.
Her family isn’t from Greenwood. Only her mother, sister, and her poor excuse for a father lived here together.
Now, her mom and sister are dead, and her dad is in the wind.
But she does have more family in California—the Viottos.
The Mafia family ruling this state. Maybe they hid her, despite blacklisting her and her family, exiling them to this city to assist Franco.
I’ll have to do some digging later. No one can disappear without a trace. There has to be something there. A footprint left behind.
Whatever the reason, I need to find her again. I need to confront her about this situation. Especially if her Viotto uncles sent her to spy on our organization.
We’ll have to be careful.
“Okay,” I say on autopilot. “I’ll uh…”
“Be in touch?” Simon asks hopefully, batting his eyelashes. “Oli and I are in, right?” He grins, reminding me of the question he asked not too long ago.
They want in on our initiations. But why? Even more reason to keep her on my radar.
“Uh, yeah. We’ll be in touch about that. You and Oli.” A plan forms in my mind to keep her in my sights. I may not know where she is right now. But I’ll find her and get the answers to all my questions.
Simon grins more, pulling out his phone when it buzzes. He groans to himself, tossing his head back. “Gotta take this. You’ll see yourself out?” he asks, motioning for the front door.
I nod, keeping my eyes on him as he wanders into their shared living space and sits on the couch. “Mom,” he says into the phone with a tired sigh, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling.
Peering around the room, I take in Olivia’s space.
The place she’s carved out to be her own while she’s here.
For a short time? No clue. All I know is, before she leaves town again, I’ll find out why she came back.
And how. There’s a story there. A tale I’m desperate to hear.
Even if I have to tie her to my bed and force the words from her mouth.
Excitement rushes through me at the thought of forcing answers from her.
By any means possible. But more so, to have her in my space again.
I need to get my greedy hands on her and figure this all out.
Especially before Mack finds out. Fuck. I nearly flinch back at the thought of telling him she’s alive.
His look of despair flashes through my mind from the day we found out.
“Wh-what do you mean?” Mack asks, jumping from his seat. “What did you say?” He gasps this time, earning a glare from Franco, who rounds his desk with his features forming into a mask of fury.
“Settle, Boy,” Franco hisses, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Sit the fuck down and remember who you’re speaking to.”
My heart beats out of control, the entire room spinning when he says the words again. Ringing forms in my ears.
“Olivia, Espie, and Sophia died last night,” he states matter-of-factly, like the news wouldn’t bother us in the least.
“Dead?” I breathe. “No, they—” I shake my head in disbelief. I saw her. Right before we left for Vegas on Franco’s orders. I told her I loved her. I kissed her soft lips. This can’t be real.
“How? What?” I suck in several breaths, attempting to keep the tears at bay. Crying in front of Franco is never a good idea. He’s the most powerful man in a hundred-mile radius. Emotions are not tolerated here.
“Yes, it’s unfortunate,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. Like Olivia wasn’t everything to us. “Untimely. They were good people,” he says with a shrug, abandoning Mack to retake a seat behind his desk. Those dark, assessing eyes take each of us in, memorizing our expressions.
Like he gets joy from the stunned looks on our faces that we can’t hide from him.
“How did it happen?” Hux asks, keeping his gaze forward. A tic forms in his jaw, continuously bouncing his muscles as his eyes slightly droop.
I side-eye Hux. Is this why he had to leave Vegas before us and come home?
“Electrical fire. I’ve been telling Raph to fucking fix it for months now. But he hasn’t listened.” For the first time since he called us into his office, he shows a grain of emotion, spitting Raph’s name like he stabbed him in the back.
“When?” Mack grits out, balling his fists at his sides.
“Last night while you were away.” He raises a brow at the three of us, checking our expressions.
If he looks close enough, he’ll see the tears burning my eyes and the redness of Mack’s face.
“The funeral is set for five days from now. They’re still recovering the bodies.
Or what is left of them.” He peers down at sheets of paper on his desk and sighs.
“I’m terribly sorry for what you boys lost. It’s a shame it happened while they were sleeping.
Such a damn shame.” He clicks his tongue a few times.