Page 173 of The Unravelings

“We’ll talk tomorrow,” I whisper. “But for now, I need you to keep sleeping. I have one more trick up my sleeve. You may have been seeking me out, but I was hunting you, too.”

I grin as I pull out a discreet tracker and its setting tool from my bedside table, hidden beneath a false bottom. Can’t have my keeper finding my goodies. I momentarily pause when the picture of her and me sits there staring back at me from the bottom of the drawer, and I pull it out with my free hand.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

No answer. Nothing but snores and heavy breaths. I guess that’s for the better. Who would want to reminisce about the boy she met once when she was fifteen and under duress?

“The night we met was the best day of my life, Crumpet. The day I crawled out of a cage my mother made. Perhaps she’s the reason I’m this way. Twisted as fuck. It was the day I spread my wings and tasted freedom for the first time. Then, I saw your face and knew I had so much to live for because you hugged me. You saw me. The real me, despite my flaws,” I whisper, looking at the small face in the photo. “Many people think they have me and my alliances figured out. Wilder. Boss man. But you, Olivia Viotto, were the only person I truly pledged myself to.”

Putting the picture into the drawer, I hold up the small invisible tracker I bought from CC Tech and grin. “And now that I have you here, I’m pledging myself in a whole new way, by keeping you in my sights. Forever. You can’t throw this one out the window or disable it. In fact,” I grunt, setting the device in the back of her neck and pulling the small trigger until it settles beneath her skin without a trace of blood. “You won’t even feel it’s there or that I did this.” Pulling the setting device back, I admire my handy work and run my finger over the discreet tracker at the back of her neck, feeling nothing there. “Perfect,” I joyfully say, jumping to my feet and hiding it again.

Olivia continues to slumber as I crawl into bed beside her, running my finger through the short strands of her dark hair.

“Good night, Olivia,” I say, kissing the tip of her nose. “Don’t hate me in the morning.”

47

JJ

“It’s weird, right?” Mack asks through a mouthful of grapes. “That asshole bailing at the last second with a hot chick on his arm?” Mack harshly swallows a few grapes and throws a few more into his mouth. “But like… Have we seen her before?”

Yeah. We have seen her before. A million times. She used to live in our memories, but now she’s back alive and well. Of course, I can’t say that. Not yet. Even though I don’t think she’s leaving any time soon. I’m still holding on to this secret because she asked me to. And whatever Olivia needs, I’ll provide.

Even if it’s chipping away at me from the inside out. Piece by piece.

I side-eye Mack as he happily munches on grapes and chugs water after running five miles around town with Waffles on his heels. It’s his routine. It’s what keeps him sane. Just like the talks at the cemetery. Fuck. Guilt wraps its claws around my aching heart.

I’m lying to him.

Over and over again. Watching as he slowly unravels. One day, he’ll be nothing more than a sweater with holes in it, on its last thread, and will completely fall to the floor.

His complete undoing.

Every day I look him in the eyes with the knowledge that Olivia is still alive and well. It’s a lie. Because she’s here. And if he finds out? Well, then he’s going to lose his shit and fucking detonate his future further.

“It was strange,” I agree, busying myself with my laptop beside Mack so he doesn’t catch wind that I might have some insight as to what’s happening.

Although Olivia didn’t really let me in on why she was leaving with Malic. In fact, I don’t want to know what they were doing last night. Or this morning. Or why she’s still at his house and not in her dorm.

The music cuts off at the top of the stairs, filling the air with static. I tilt my head when a door opens and slams shut, rattling everything in its wake. Hux marches down the stairs with a hardened expression. That’s nothing new, though. Hux hasn’t shown a true ounce of emotion since Olivia’s death. Opting to hold it all inside until he’s in the fighting ring and lets it all go.

“What was strange?” he asks with a furious expression clouding his features again.

“That Malic and that hot chick left before he could fight. It’s like he actually became human and chose pussy over pounding your face in.” Mack smirks when Huxley whirls around and looks at him with narrowed eyes. “Have we ever seen her before?” he asks again.

“No. Never seen her before,” Hux retorts quickly.

Hux’s eyelids droop slightly as he moves to the coffee maker with determination, and I tilt my head, watching him closely out of the corner of my eye. He fixates on the coffee machine with a set jaw as his back heaves with every harsh breath he takes, keeping his expression away from me.

It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask if he’s all right, but I stop myself when he squeezes his eyes shut and hangs his head over the coffee maker. No. He’s not all right. None of us are. Ever. Huxley doesn’t offer us his opinions on what Olivia’s death did to him. I know he took it as hard as we did. It’s why her flowers are planted outside, and the 224 tattoo rests on his chest. He’s never forgotten her. Never will. She’ll forever live inside him. But that’s it. Mack openly talks about his grief. Shows it, too. With us only. And me? Well, I’ve used my grief to build my knowledge and avoid it at all costs.

“You sure, bro? I swear to God, she looked familiar as hell. Those eyes…” Mack chews a few more grapes slowly this time, but he shakes his head. “Whatever. You won. Now, those losers can’t come back for a very long time. It’s almost like winning.”

“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t winning in my book,” Hux barks out, slamming the coffee maker’s lid closed with more force than necessary until it’s pouring freshly brewed coffee into his cup. “That wasn’t a fucking fight. He walked out. With her,” he grits out. “I’m doing a fucking rematch.” He turns back to his coffee, muttering words I can’t hear under his breath. “And he’ll fucking accept this time and actually show up in the ring.”

“Bro!” Mack whines. “That’s breaking every single rule we’ve put into place.” Mack throws his hands up with a frown. “If they forfeit, they get the wall of shame! I’ve already printed out his ugly mug to hang up.” He literally pouts at Hux, who ignores every word Mack says.

“Yeah? Well, that hasn’t stopped us from breaking them,” Hux quips with a huff.