49. Olivia
Olivia
Okay. So, something bad happened. Great.
I’ll pretend he didn’t say the name of my agency so loud and proud.
I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time a stranger has asked about the word.
All I have to do is pretend the word means nothing to me.
I don’t even swallow hard or twitch my nose at his question. I let it slide over me and don’t react.
“Umm, no clue,” I say, shrugging. “I’m sure Google could help you.” I stare Malic in the eyes as they twinkle, and he nods.
“Hmmm. And this?” he asks, setting my badge on the counter.
The same badge that should be in my fucking panty drawer, beneath my boxers, and hiding with my vibrators.
Fucking hell! Has he been snooping around my room?
That’s the only way he could have gotten this.
But how? There’s been no damn evidence of someone coming into my room.
My door is always locked for my protection and my stuff.
Panic swarms my insides as I look down at the shiny, metal badge. Even Wilder watches the two of us with a furrowed brow and confusion etched across his face. That means he had no idea this was happening. Is this why Malic sought me out at the fights, too? Was he hunting, as well? Fuck. Me.
I need to retire and throw in the towel.
I’m done.
I run my finger over the metal engraved with Veritas and Agent Seven, trying to calm my racing heart.
When I used to touch this badge, it felt like home.
Safety. A family. A place I finally belonged after so many years of belonging to no one but myself.
Oh, and the three boys I thought were my safe space.
Veritas was my new start in life. It was a home to go to when I had no one else.
“Never seen it before in my life.” I shrug, peel my eyes away from my badge, and rip my hand away, too.
You know when you watch a car crash, and it happens in slow motion?
But you can’t look away or run away from the scene?
That’s what this feels like. Like I can’t move.
I’m frozen with adrenaline roaring through my veins, and my heart aching to break through my chest. On the inside, I’m freaking the fuck out.
On the outside? Yeah, I’m trying to keep my cool.
No sudden flinches. No weird facial expressions.
A blank slate while I pretend he’s not about to blow apart the entire world I’ve built in Greenwood since I came back to campus.
“And these?” Malic asks, setting my fucking glasses on the counter.
So, that’s where they were. He hid them purposely. Great. The entire world is melting away around me as I try to keep the overwhelming feeling of panic from taking me over.
Breathe, Liv. He doesn’t know anything until you tell him. He’s bluffing. Doesn’t know a thing about you. Or Veritas, that’s why he’s asking.
“They look like glasses,” I state nonchalantly, pushing them away so I don’t have to look at the evidence I left behind when I stupidly got drunk and blacked out.
Wilder stares at the glasses for longer than necessary, narrowing his eyes like he’s seen them before.
Poor Wilder. Fuck. He has seen them before.
He’s my friend. He’s looked me in the eyes.
We’ve grappled together. Studied together.
He’s a good guy. Something twists inside me for the first time.
I’ve duped him since I stepped onto campus as Oliver.
And I kind of feel bad for it.
“Why do you have these?” Wilder finally asks Malic, gesturing to the glasses. His expression strains. “I think Oliver has been looking for these.”
Malic grins again, humming under his breath. “So, are you going to fess up, Little Ghost? Or should I spill all the delicious beans?” Malic asks me with a grin. “I think it’s something Wilder would love to hear.”
“I’m going to go now,” I say, standing quickly from the chair. “I want my shit,” I demand, holding out my hand. “And then, I’m leaving. This conversation is over.”
“Olivia,” Malic says, coming toward me, and I step back until my back hits the wall.
My ears ring at the sound of my name. No one uses it here.
It sounds foreign coming from him. It shouldn’t exist on his tongue.
Not at all. Sweat breaks out over my flesh.
Stupid brain. We’re better than this. We’ve trained before under false interrogations.
Don’t give anything away. He could use it against you.
“Shut up,” I growl, pushing him away the closer he gets to me. Denial is my best bet. Even though I can tell by the look in his eyes that he knows something.
Fuck. I’m so fucked. Jonathan is going to kill me.
Not only for losing my glasses in this fucking house at a party, but for letting Malic find my badge, which should have been hidden.
This is the second person on campus who has figured out my identity.
But not only that, he knows about Veritas.
Not enough, from what I can tell. He still has no idea what we do or why.
I need to keep it that way. Protect the agency at all costs.
Protect myself, too. But how? How can I get out of this? Use your stupid brain, Olivia.
“You’re making this whole blackmail bit a lot harder than it needs to be,” Malic grumbles, cupping my face. That same softness returns to his eyes, and his face relaxes. “You thought you could continue to hide from me?” He cocks his head. “Oliver was a clever disguise.”
“What?” Wilder asks slowly from somewhere behind Malic. “Malic, what the hell are you talking about now? I think you need a nap.” He says more, but I tune him out. I can’t look at him right now.
The only person I can stare at is the devil’s eyes before me. This fucker! There’s a knowing spark there. Like he’s had me figured out from the very beginning. Has he? Have I been too immersed in my own grief and despair that I didn’t see this coming?
Probably.
Since I set foot in Greenwood the night I stood at my grave for the first time in five years, I haven’t been the best agent.
I’ve been the worst. But what does Jonathan expect when he brought me back here to do this?
He knew they destroyed every molecule of me that night.
That I wasn’t mentally capable of being okay here.
Sure, I can pretend I’m fine. It’s my motto after all. I’m fine. Everything is fine. Always.
But not right now.
Malic is staring at me like I have the answers to life. Like he wants to peel back my layers and find out everything about me.
“I—” What the fuck is happening? “What are you talking about?” I don’t dare gulp the lump in my throat as he looks into my eyes and sighs heavily.
“Olivia Viotto,” he breathes millimeters from my lips. “You can’t hide from me. Ever. You should know by now. Funny how time can drag us apart, but I’ll always be that little boy, and you’ll always be her.” He grins as Wilder stands close to us at our sides.
“Malic?” Wilder asks, twisting his face. “Dude, that can’t be Olivia Viotto. I knew her. That’s Mack’s little girlfriend. She died like five years back.” Wilder shakes his head and lifts his eyes. “It can’t be…” He trails off as his gaze darts around my face. “I mean, it’s an uncanny resemblance.”
“It’s uncanny, lad, because she never died,” Malic grits out.
A weird tension rises in the air as the three of us stand together.
Malic doesn’t let go of my face. He keeps inspecting it, going over every freckle meticulously with his gaze.
And me? I’m stuck. Frozen. Unable to move from the look in his eyes.
It’s like my body wants to give in to him and confess who I really am. But I can’t.
“Malic,” Wilder sighs, running a hand down his face. “I’m sorry about him. I’m going to have to take him to the doctor again and get him evaluated,” he growls. “People don’t come back from the dead, Mal. She may look like Olivia, but she’s not.”
Malic grins at me. “Who said they have to come back from the dead when they never died at all? I was there that night, you know?” My heart aches in my chest when he tilts his head. “I know exactly who pulled you out of the fire and saved your life.”
I clamp my mouth shut. He wants me to ask questions and out myself.
It’s working. Almost. I want to ask him how he knows and if he was really there, because my uncle Jonathan swears up and down that he was the one who saved me and pulled me from the flames.
He swore to me in the hospital that he was my savior.
And I believed him.
“Malic,” Wilder sighs.
“Tell him who you are, Little Ghost,” Malic whispers. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“You’re asking a lot,” I say, lifting my chin. “And I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” I curl my fingers into fists.
Malic doesn’t lose his smile or his patience as he strokes my face.
“He almost died that night, too. You know? When he walked through flames to drag you out. It’s odd he doesn’t share the same scars as you.
” Gently, he traces my scars and burns on the side of my face.
My breath stalls in my lungs when his fingers run along the scar on my throat, too.
“He got off scot-free after handing you over to whoever took you to safety.” What is he talking about?
Handing me over? He pauses momentarily, dragging his gaze over the slash across my throat.
“They cut deep, didn’t they?” He clicks his tongue a few times.
“But not deep enough to kill you. Whoever did it had no idea what the hell they were doing with your wounds, did they? They probably have others do their dirty work.” He shakes his head.
“It’s a good thing, though. Or you’d never have come back here.
That begs the question, Little Ghost. Why have you come back? Revenge? Because that’s juicy.”
Sweat forms on my brow, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “Shut up,” I hiss, trying to knock his hands away from me. I don’t want to hear anything else he has to say. He’s trying to scramble my thoughts, so I confess that I’m who he thinks I am.