“Sit.”
Yanking her to a sudden stop, Ollie shoved her down into a heavy wooden chair, square-backed with carved arms.Dropping into a crouch, he unlocked one cuff, dragged it hard against the armrest, and clicked it shut.He gave it a short testing tug before straightening and crossing to the far wall, where a row of old metal lockers stood shoulder to shoulder.
Moving through them with quiet efficiency, he unlocked one, then another, gathering what he needed and setting the items out on a nearby table.
Something small.Glass.A vial, maybe.And a plastic-wrapped packet—its contents impossible to make out from where she sat.
He pulled on a pair of gloves, snapping them into place one at a time.A disposable mask followed—the kind used in clinics.Tearing open the packet, he poured something into the vial, then, very gently—absurdly gently—began stirring the contents.
Watching him, Cassie tugged against the cuff.The chair barely shifted beneath her.Too heavy to lift.Too far from anything she could reach.
“Ollie,” she rasped.
He didn’t look at her.
“Ollie,” she tried again.“You could just let me go.I’ll just…go back to New York…you’ll never…see me again.”
“Right,” he said muffled behind the mask, not looking up.“Because the girl who wouldn’t drop it with Maya is just gonna…let it go.”
“No one is going to believe this,” she said.“No one here…no one in New York.”
“People believe what they’re told, Cassie.Hell, Con just died, and here you come after all this time, no house, no family, stirrin’ everything up.You already got caught breakin’ into the old place.Won’t take much for folks to decide you finally went the same way your mama did.”
Cassie shuddered in a breath before forcing the words out.“Did you—” She swallowed hard.“Did you kill Connor?”
“Kill him?”Ollie huffed, shaking his head.“Jesus, Cas.I gave him a job.
“I was tryin’ to help him,” he continued, his tone sharpening.“Nobody else was.Not even Nash—his so-called brother.”
He paused, thumbing the cap off a hypodermic needle.Cassie’s grip tightened against the handcuff, her stomach dropping as she watched him draw the contents of the vial into the syringe.
“And then—” Ollie let out a short, humorless laugh.“After I go outta my way for him…”
His mouth hardened.“He starts fuckin’ stealin’ from me.”
Setting the syringe down, Ollie reached for a cloth, wiping his hands before peeling off the gloves and dropping them aside.The mask followed, tossed with the rest.Picking up the syringe, he started toward her.
Cassie pressed herself deeper into the chair.“No,” she cried, panic breaking into her voice.“Ollie—no.”
With his free hand, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a short length of rubber tubing, tossing it into her lap.
“Roll your sleeve up,” he said.“Tie your arm off.”
Cassie stared down at it for a second before looking back at him.“No,” she whispered, pushing herself back as far as the chair would let her, her wrist straining against it.“No,” she cried, shaking her head harder now.“Ollie, don’t.Please don’t do this.”
He paused, head tilting slightly as he stared at her.
“You know,” he said after a moment, quieter now, “I was real happy to see you again.Hell, I was hopin’ you’d show…”
Cassie stilled, caught off guard.
“Always had a thing for you,” he said, his hand coming up to brush along her cheek.
She flinched hard, jerking her face away from him before she could stop herself.“Ollie—what the fuck.This isn’t you.”
Ollie’s hand dropped; he huffed a bitter laugh.“But look at you.Still goin’ for the wrong kind of man.”
Cassie looked back at him, eyes wide.“Is that a joke?”she rasped.“Look what you’re doing—what kind of man areyou?”
