8. Olivia
Olivia
Unknown number: This isn’t over, Spitfire…
Great.
Wonderful!
This isn’t over. Well, I guess not. Imagine my surprise when I was forced to return here and confront all this. Him. Them. Fuck. This isn’t over. I mock inside my head. This is it—the call to murder me again. Finish me off before Franco finds out I’m still alive and kicking.
This entire ordeal was over before it even fucking started.
Two weeks. That’s all it took. And this? This is the cherry on top of my already shitty day. They’re probably collecting their weapons to invade my dorm room and put me out of my misery.
Fuck.
I wish someone would. End me now, fellas. At least I’ll die with some sort of dignity. Or maybe not.
You know what I’d rather do, instead? Hide.
Cowardly? Most definitely. Especially since I’m supposed to use this to my advantage and make them my bitches so I can get into their frat and infiltrate their gang to take Franco down.
But how the fuck am I supposed to do that?
How am I supposed to make this work when they know who I am and want me dead?
Howwwwww?
What does Jonathan expect me to do? Completely turn off my feelings and face them again? Turn off the rage, fear, and everything in between?
I don’t understand the angle. Or him. Or his big, bad boss who insists I’m here.
Our interaction in the warehouse filters through my mind as I aimlessly walk away from the spot I was stuck in.
There was a weird desperation in Jonathan’s voice—something I can’t really place, though.
Was it the pressure from his boss to keep me here and get this done?
Or was it Jonathan’s idea in the first place?
I don’t understand anything happening right now. I’m so numb from sending one of my only allies off to his own doom. I’d never tell him, but I’ll miss Jordy. His laugh and jokes. He knows how to drag me from this hole I’ve been somehow thrust into.
My limbs tingle. My head fucking hurts as a fog rolls in, clouding my thoughts.
JJ helped kill me. I saw him. They held me down. They sliced my mother and sister right in front of me, leaving me for last.
“Don’t look, Baby,” my mother whispers, side-eyeing me as they force her chin up. “I love you both so much—” But her words trailed off as the knife slid easily across her throat.
I squeeze my eyes shut, my breath coming quickly as a loud thump happens beside me.
Fingers squeeze my cheeks, and someone hits the side of my head with their fist. “Open your eyes and watch.”
I suck in a breath, nearly falling to my knees. The crisp memories flow through my mind easily. Like I never locked them away, forbidding myself to remember their murders. My murder.
Franco, Huxley, JJ, and Mack were all there, staring deep into my eyes. No life. Only darkness swirled there. The light they had before had been plucked away and replaced by something different. Very different. Even their body language. The wrinkles beside their eyes.
They were different. Yet the same. Yet… Were they?
JJ’s sobs and tears flash through my mind, hurling at the speed of light and forcing me to see his confusion and anguish.
No. Wait. I shake my head, bringing more memories to the forefront of my mind.
Words barely left their lips through the entire ordeal, like they couldn’t bear to speak to me or show me a hint of compassion. Why would they? They were there to take me out and leave me to die in a fiery tomb.
They could hide behind their masks without a care. Only offering a few parting words.
“Die knowing we used you.”
They didn’t have to stab me to death. Their words were enough to snuff out the fight writhing inside me. Die knowing we used you. We never loved you. I could have possibly crawled toward the door and safety. I could have maybe lived for another few seconds before the flames swallowed everything.
But I didn’t. I gave in to the darkness that swallowed me whole. And yet, I somehow survived.
I lick my lips when a phantom burning sensation crosses over my throat, and my fingers prod at the scar there.
The constant reminder. Like the burns lining my face.
That night lives in infamy inside my brain.
Their eyes. Their cruelty. The sharp end of a knife stabbing through the flesh of my throat.
The fire spread everywhere until blackness took over, leaving me at its mercy.
I’m a survivor, though. I’ve done the impossible by walking away from the flames that should have killed me. I lived. Survived. Like I always have. Between my father’s cruel words and actions and then losing my life to the people I trusted most, I’ve survived hell.
So, why should this mission be any different? Why should I let this defeat me?
Answer? I shouldn’t.
I should grab JJ by the horns and show him what I need him for. Demand that he doesn’t tell the others through blackmail or other means, and let me continue as Oliver in his notorious frat. All while I take Franco down and report back to Veritas. Then, I can be on my merry way.
Far, far away from here.
That’s the dream, at least. But my dreams never go according to plan. They’re always flying off the tracks and spiraling toward more and more bullshit.
That’s precisely what this case is. Bullshit.
I understand that I’m the only one who knows these gangs like the back of my hand.
The danger, though, is escalating to new heights.
Heights I’m not comfortable with. Heights I want to run from, change my name—again—and never return to this undercover life.
Anxiety creeps up my calves, like vines weaving their way through my veins. My breath constricts. My fingers tremble. My mind spirals into the deepest, darkest abyss I’ve ever felt. I’m falling. Fast. Hard. It’s unstoppable.
I’m fucking trapped here. In this mission. In these clothes.
I can’t.
Not right now.
No matter how badass I truly am. I’m spiraling quickly. Worse than when I found out I was staying here, and my desperate need to run was in full effect. It’s escalating now. Reaching high. Suffocating me in the worst possible way.
There’s no escape. Nowhere to run or hide.
My breath quickens impossibly fast, stealing all the oxygen from my lungs. I gasp and hold a hand over my thudding heart.
I need to ground myself before I have to face the monsters of my past again. Before I drown. Or run. Or spiral somewhere I can’t come back from. Like that time at the bar.
I suck in a fresh breath and shake my head, snapping out of the descent I’ve mentally taken.
The darkness hasn’t reached me for years.
Always blocked by a case or distracted by Jordy.
All my comforts have been ripped away from me.
Jordy? On another case. And my case? It’s nothing but a walk through a cemetery filled with all the ghosts of my past. Only they aren’t dead, and there’s no escaping for me.
I’d better not leave this town in a real body bag, or I’ll haunt every single person involved.
Blinking several times, I nearly recoil at the location I’ve come to.
Silence embraces me, ringing in my ears with a familiarity I almost didn’t recognize.
Licking my lips, I peer around the forest I once called home.
The place where I hid beneath the shady oaks and behind the tall pines for protection from my father.
Wild laughter from years before rings in my ears. Ghosts of my childhood pass by, chasing each other. Like spirits dancing before me, they disappear, making their way to the only place they felt safe in.
The treehouse.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tilt my head back and immerse myself in the forest all around me.
It hugs me in a tight embrace, forcing the anxiety and pain of my day to flee.
For a minute, at least. Trees for what seems like miles darken the ground around my feet.
Leaves crunch beneath my shoes, mixed with the pine needles and cones falling from the trees.
This little blip of paradise has always been a mix of tall oaks and pine trees, here for centuries before, and aiding us in our home life escapes.
Sharp memories of my childhood, spent wandering through these very trees, weave their way into my mind, bringing everything out of the dark, black box I hid them in.
I want to escape. I want to be free. Like I did as a kid. The same crushing feeling cracks into my chest and pries me open. Beating heart and all.
My feet move as my arms drop to my sides.
Steady footsteps echo through the dense forest, and the beautiful smell of fresh pine fills my nose.
Everything crashes into me all at once. My circumstances.
The text from JJ. The moment Jordy left me to fend for myself.
He won’t bail me out anymore. The twins won’t let him get away too easily.
Faint whispers spark in the air, but I don’t pay them any mind.
They’re figments of my imagination. Ghosts that don’t exist. Or maybe they do.
Legend has it that Captain John Greenwood, the pirate who founded Greenwood, roamed these woods in his last days.
Treasures of massive amounts are around here somewhere, but no one has been that brave in years.
Years of rumors of hauntings and now dead bodies push people away from this area. Well, sometimes. College students often visit this area for extracurricular activities that the school wouldn’t approve of. Murder? Drug use? It has it all. I’m sure someone is lurking somewhere with their eyes on me.
Except where I’m standing.
Within these trees lie two buildings that were once my entire world. My home, which is now nothing more than ash—at least, I hope—and the treehouse that was my home away from home. My sanctuary. Sure, we had the Colosseum and the caves below to explore. But our treehouse?
It was something more. Something magical.
It’s where I lost my virginity to all three of them. The place where I took my first sip of a margarita. Or the nights I hugged Huxley or Mack or JJ, as we counted the thunder as it roared through the area.