I let my words trail off as I take a step back, disbelief and anger and panic swarm me as I read the words. About her. About my brother. About the party. What she went through. Every vein in my body feels like it’s about to burst. It hits me like a freight train, literally knocking the air out of me, causing me to stumble backward. My feet knock into something. Something drops, causing a loud thud to resound as something crashes down onto the floor, unable to see what I knocked over. Trace attempts to balance me but I trip, dropping the journal and letting it fall to the floor so I can twist around, reaching my hands out to catch myself before I fall on my ass.
I groan, scorching hot embarrassment bubbles in my chest; my palms and knees on the ground. I lift myself up, needing to wipe my wet eyes with my wrist and that’s when I realize that my hands are covered in some kind of sticky residue.
“Shit, are you okay?” Trace asks as he drops the phone to help me. He wraps his arm around me and pulls me up before leaning down to grab the journal.
“Do you see my sweater down there?” I ask, hoping to find something to wipe my hands off with.
Trace stands up to face me and the beam of the light from the phone on the floor shines under his chin and over his face, making him look haunted and threatening, almost like one would while holding a flashlight to their face while telling a scary story.
He stares at me and my blood turns to ice.
“Olivia,” he whispers. And I see it in his eyes before he says it. I know what he’s going to say.
“No,” I say, my voice cracks and my heart seizes, still affected by what I’d just read in Seren’s journal. By what Trace unveiled to me from that night.
He looks at me, worry laces his eyes. I wouldn’t be able to see it if it weren’t for the help of the light glow illuminating them, but it’s there.
I shake my head, slowly creeping my hands out in front of us. He reaches for them, tugging me closer into the beam of light and that’s when I see it.
Red.
Staining my skin. My heart sinks to my stomach, my head starts to feel dizzy and as I look up into Trace’s eyes, I take a step back and that’s when I feel it; the light thud against my boot. Something stopping me in my tracks.
“Don’t do it, Livie,” Trace warns me, probably wanting to protect me, but I’m too stubborn and I have to look. I have to know.
And whenI do, when I see the dead body laying at my feet—the blood of whom is on my hands—I scream.
28
TRACE
"You know, I thought something like this might happen. That's why I prepared for it." — Chucky, Child's Play (1988)
Olivia’s scream reverberates throughout the darkness, cutting into the cold air and sinking into the walls. I reach for her, pulling her into me, cradling her head against my chest. This is what I miss most. The soft, genuine moments of needing one another. Of craving to be in each other’s arms. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll never stop making my little reckless’s heart beat out her fucking chest for the sake of scaring her into submission, giving her the pleasure she gets from being afraid. But this—her needing me, me needing her—terrifies me how fucking deeply I feel this in my soul
I calm her down, after having to kick the body over to prove to her it wasn’t Alli. The blood that seeped into the strands of blonde hair made it look red in the lack of lighting provided to us, so I flipped the body over revealing that it was not Alli.
It’s Natasha.Declan’s ex.
I look down, seeing her body laid out; a puddle of blood surrounding her. That must have been what fell when Olivia stumbled back. But the blood seems fairly fresh, I can feel it on my skin as Oliva wraps her arms around me, holding onto me as cries and shivers rack her body.
“It’s okay, baby,” I whisper into her hair and that’s when I feel her stiffening in my arms.
“Who the fuck did that? Who-”
Olivia stops her words, slowly turning her head in my grasp. She puts her hands against my abs, gently pushing herself away as she calms her sniffles and looks up at me with cautious intention.
I stare down at her, feeling my body tense, knowing what she’s likely thinking. I can feel the heat coming from her eyes as she recoils.
“Olivia,” I warn her, keeping my voice low and stern as she steps away from me but she doesn’t respond to me. She keeps her eyes trained on me as she slowly recedes, further into the darkness.
“Livie, I haven’t killed anyone,” I tell her, but the look in her eyes is filled with uncertainty.“Yet,”I add because she had to know that I still plan to get my token of blood.
But I do realize that if what Broden told Olivia is true, and Tyre and Jett are the names of the sick fucks who did that to her, then what the fuck left is there for me to do? It infuriates me to know that I won’t be able to serve my sister the justice she deserves, but the fact remains . . . someone else did kill them; Declan, Tyre, and Jett. Someone killed them and though it seems it might have been a vigilante act . . . who?
“I swear to god, Olivia, if you try to run from me right now, the night will not end well for you,” I threaten her, seeing that look in her eye. The one that tells me that she’s about to turn and run. But it would be a very dumb decision on her part.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asks and I hear the quiver in her voice. Either she’s genuinely scared of me right now or on the verge of tears again.
