Olivia shook her head, her entire body trembling. “No. No, he’s not.”
I held her in my arms as she cried on my chest. “They killed him. I’m so sorry, Liv. It’s all my fault.”
Her blood-curdling scream pierced my eardrum and sent a shiver down my spine.
I had expected this.
This is all my fault.
“Stop it, Drake,” she whimpered, swatting a hand at my bruised chest. “Just tell me the truth.”
“I am, Liv.” I bent down and held her at arm’s length, tears spilling down my cheeks. “They airlifted his body to the morgue in Beacon Bay. We can see him…. But I don’t think you should. He’s unrecognizable.”
“No,” Olivia shouted, dropping to her knees on the asphalt. “No, no, no… He can’t be… Tate.”
I wanted to get on the ground with her, but I could hardly stand on my own. So, I put my hand on her shoulder, just to let her know I was there. That I loved her and would be here for her.
Across the blacktop, I spotted Cole and Grace Marshall. My cousin’s wife carried their newborn son, Hale, who slept soundly, despite the noise from the rotary blades.
With life comes death.
I thought about how my father’s death led to five of the happiest years of my life. He gave me a brother who filled my life with purpose and joy. And with that brother came the woman I would one day marry.
Once we both had time to process, I would tell her everything. The secrets Tate and I hid. All the lies we told to keep her safe. If Olivia ever forgave me, I would make her my wife and uphold the deal I made with Tate.
CHAPTER 25
OLIVIA
My heart ripped from my chest, shattered to pieces. Crushed to dust and scattered across Devil’s Creek. Tears spilled from my eyes and would not stop falling, drenching my T-shirt.
For the past few days, I held onto hope that my brother and Tate would return. I prayed the three of them would devise a plan to get home safely after someone also kidnapped Marcello Salvatore. But when I saw Marcello and Drake hop down from the helicopter without my brother, I knew.
He was dead.
Tate was gone.
No matter how many times I repeated the words in my head, none of it felt real. I told myself Tate would come walking toward me, all smiles and swagger.
But he never showed.
We finally reunited after years of being separated, forced into different foster homes, and then splitting up again while he was in the Marine Corps. Something always kept us apart. Whether it was the system, his deployments, or my living on campus at Kingston University. Our timing never seemed to line up.
Screams of sheer pain ripped through my chest, tearing me apart. My chest and lungs ached from each sharp bellow, my brother’s name a whisper on my lips.
Drake bent down beside me, barely able to maintain his balance, keeping a hand on my shoulder. “Liv, please. I need you to get up. We have to go home and talk about this?”
“Home?” I snapped, snot dripping from my nose. “What home? That cold, sterile mansion that only ever had life in it when Tate lived there?”
He lowered his head and sighed. “I know how you feel.”
“No, you don’t.”
I shoved his hand off my shoulder, and he stumbled backward and onto his ass. Seeing him fall onto his bad shoulder snapped me out of my anger. Made me forget all the grief. For a moment, I only saw the man I loved wounded, his face bruised and battered, his body covered in wounds.
I crawled over to him and helped him sit up. “Drake, I’m?—”
“I know,” he bit out. “It’s okay. I get it.”
