Page 143 of Queen of Nothing

My face twists.

A fresh pulse of anguish jolts me.

Rapid footsteps thud through the room. He’s spotted me through the windows—and he rushes out onto the balcony.

Glass crunches beneath his shoes. “Liv?” Panic has his voice pulled taut. “Gods, are you alright?”

Before I can begin to answer that, or even look up from the blood and my tears on the balcony floor, Oliver has swept to my side.

“Are you hurt? Liv, look at me. Are you hurt?””

I’m aware of his hands feeling along my shoulders, my arms, searching for injury larger than the small cuts.

A moan tethers through me, and I lift my hand from the glass. I show him the gash on my palm.

His murmur is barely audible, “What the fuck…”

The surprise steals him. For a moment, he’s still.

Then he gingerly takes my hand.

I stare at the floor, the glass, the blood, and through the clouding of tears.

From a pocket somewhere on his person, Oliver pulls out a handkerchief and presses it onto my palm.

“Did Dray do this to you?” His question comes breathy, almost disbelieving. “Liv, look at me. Tell me what happened.”

My breaths are too hitched, too sharp, too serrated. I don’t think I could get a word out if I tried.

Oliver realises this. He must. Because his questions stop—and he wraps his arm around me, and pulls me closer.

I fall into him.

I sink into his arms.

Oliver tugs me so close that I’m slumped against his chest. And through the sobs that batter and hack at my chest, he holds me.

Chin rested on my head, he’s quiet. Patient.

He doesn’t ask me why I’m crying—but his mind must be whirring, pinning it all on Dray.

For once, he would be wrong.

This isn’t Dray.

It’s him.

It’s all of them.

Oliver. Mother. Father.

It’s my blood.

It’s all that time that I had to fight back tears and pretend to be ok around Serena and Sal.

It’s that mask crumbling completely, fading into nothingness, and I’m left with the raw pain of knowing exactly what I am…

And that my family must be in on it.