Page 11 of The Unravelings

“We didn’t do anything in Vegas,” Hux says in a monotone voice, staring straight into Franco’s soulless eyes. “All we did was walk around your new casino looking for trouble, but there was none.”

“You did plenty by being there in person,” Franco dismisses. “So much so, I’m sending you back to do the same. Show the locals there the Franco Syndicate isn’t to be fucked with.” He smiles at that and then waves a hand. “Now, go back to whatever you boys need to do today.” aka get out of my office.

Memories I swore I’d never think about again resurface at an alarming rate, spinning through my mind and weaving a web of sorrow and regret. It’s like I’m no longer standing in Olivia’s dorm room. Instead, I’m standing before the remains of her house, still smoldering.

Mack stands stock still in front of the house that once stood before us. The remnants of it are nothing more than ash on the ground, with charred framing and smoke plumes reaching into the sky, darkening the sun.

“I thought—” he whispers, emotion clogging his voice. “I thought he was lying or testing us or—” He brings a fist to his lips, hiding the quiver taking over.

“Me too,” I choke out, staring deep into the ashes of the home. A few firefighters associated with Franco sift through the remains of the house and put out smaller fires still erupting.

“I’m sorry for your loss, boys.” We look up in unison, seeing a dark-haired man with deep green eyes standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Huxley, his expression solemn. “We’ve recovered what we could.” His Adam’s apple bounces as he swallows hard, looking over the wreckage.

“Did you find her?” A hardened edge creeps into Mack’s voice as he glares at the firefighter with one thing on his mind. Olivia.

“All three,” he says with a mournful nod. “But there’s…” He rolls his lips together, eyeing the other two firefighters when they come forward.

“There’s really nothing left, boys. Electrical fires burn hot. I’d suggest you don’t get any closer. It’s dangerous,” the blue-eyed firefighter says, gesturing to the mess. “The house is on the verge of completely collapsing.” He shakes his head.

“When?” Hux presses.

The third firefighter approaches us with a frown. “About midnight last night. We got the call from a concerned neighbor that flames were shooting above the tree lines.” He points up, showing us the charred leaves of the trees directly above the house, curling in on themselves.

“Midnight?” Hux’s eyes narrow in on the three of them.

“Yes, midnight,” the firefighter confirms with a nod. “There was nothing we could do for the people inside. It was too far gone.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Mack growls, backing away from us. “You shut the fuck up about them. Nothing you could do. That’s bullshit! You have gear. You have…” Hux puts his hand on Mack’s shoulder, gently squeezing. Leaning in, he whispers words into his ear until Mack pulls away aggressively, taking a few steps back. “Fuck this.” He disappears into the forest surrounding Olivia’s home.

Or…former home, I guess.

Light sounds of Simon conversing on the phone beyond the walls filter through, bringing me back to the present. So many emotions swirl inside me. So many memories begging to haunt me all over again.

I’ve done an excellent job of pretending Olivia never died or left us. I’ve thrown myself into the computer work Franco urged me to get better at. I’ve worn an excellent mask over the years to prevent the others from knowing that I died the night she did.

But right now?

Right now, I’m breaking into a zillion pieces in the middle of Olivia’s dorm room. I can’t pretend I didn’t look into the eyes of the ghost from my past.

I’ve been through her death before—all their deaths. I’ve watched Mack throw himself into the depths of running, drinking, partying, fighting, and every other reckless decision. All to forget what happened.

We were gone. If we hadn’t been, we would have walked through fire to save our girl and her family.

Taking several deep breaths, I let them expand my chest and deflate. With every inhale and exhale, I contain my emotions. I lock them behind a thick glass box and hide them from the world.

Like I always do.

As my gaze wanders over her roommate’s empty bed, dresser, and desk, I finally land on the sheets that she’s been sleeping under. It hits me again despite our brief encounter—she’s alive. She sleeps there. Stands in here to get ready for the day in the skin of a man named Oliver who wears glasses and has green eyes. Scars line his face and throat. From what, though, I’m unsure. But I’ll find out.

I always do.

Everything is in place. Minus the popcorn Simon was consuming when I barged into the room; it’s sprinkled on her sheets and the floor. And the large knife she clutched in her fingers for protection against me. Fuck. From the moment I saw Olivia’s face on the hotel cameras to the moment she emerged as Oliver, my stomach has been turning and aching.

How did I not recognize her in the bathroom at the Coliseum? I rub my temple. I have so many questions and no answers. Yet.

Picking up the knife, I examine the shiny edge, admiring it. It’s beautiful for what it is. Perfect for taking down anyone you’re up against.

“Vengeance?” I mumble, running my finger over the etched word with furrowed brows.