Page 79 of Heist in Paradise

“It’s really me,” I said, forcing myself not to gasp with each panicky word. “It’s Olivia. I promise. I’ve been looking for you, Molls.”

The gun wavered, not dropping but hesitating.

Her eyes flickered over me and away, a restless, jumpy tick. Then she became distant, staring at the far wall like she was caught in a memory. Judging by her sudden wince, it wasn’t a fond one.

“Someone else is here.” It wasn’t a question, just a quiet observation.

I nodded and answered anyway. “That’s Sparrow. He’s with me. He will help you.”

“Help me?” Her head cocked, as if the very notion of help was foreign. Her eyes flared briefly. “Olivia.”

I leaped to my feet. “Yes,” I sobbed. “It’s me.”

She recoiled slightly, clutching the gun tighter. “No,” she whispered again. “No, you can’t be here. T-They promised. They said…” Her face shuddered, haunted eyes swimming with tears.

I moved automatically, stepping around the gun and wrapping my arms tight around her. She was so small, so fucking tiny, that my arms overlapped on her bony back. The gun jutted uncomfortably against my ribs. I didn’t care. For a whole blissful second, we held each other, rocking slightly, soothing and sweet and stable.

Then we heard footsteps.

Molly’s reaction was whip-fast and instinctive. As if a trance had been broken. She stiffened in my arms, then lashed out, shoving me back with surprising force. I lost my footing and just barely managed to grip the bed before I hit the floor. Around me, the girls whimpered.

The gun was raised and pointed, and the Molly I knew was gone again, replaced by the ugly enforcer. Real fear shot through my bloodstream.

“Get up.” Gone was any recognition, any softness from her voice.

The girls obeyed quietly, rising and waiting like dutiful ghouls. I was slower. Molly jutted the gun at me. “Come here.”

Approaching her a second time was not as easy. I eyed her warily, the space between us, the things unsaid, the horrors that had twisted her into jagged edges. I was crying, real tears that burned like acid down my face. Molly glanced at me coolly, with only the tiniest wobble in her chin, before she used the gun to herd me out of the room.

“What about the others?” I asked her. The gun stabbed my spine in response. I zipped my fat mouth and marched dutifully down the narrow corridor, past the doors, up the stairs that led to the main deck.

The smell of blood and grime hit me at once, and behind me, Molly blanched. The deck was shiny with blood, so fresh that it looked like an oil spill under the moonlight. Signs of a struggle were evident—stray bullet casings, upturned chairs, what looked like a shattered dinner plate. The beach was empty and dark in front of us, no sign of the men. Or Madoc.

“Sparrow?” I murmured into my earpiece.

There was the faintest crackle in my ear, a purposeful exhale. My shoulders dipped in relief.

He hadn’t left me.

A shadow flickered in my periphery, and I turned, before realizing my mistake. Molly whipped around, gun cocked, and caught the shadow as it climbed over the side railing.

“Wait,” I shouted to Molly, but she didn’t listen.

Madoc was straddling the railing, but paused, his viper-like eyes narrowing on us, reevaluating. He was dripping wet, dark hair plastered to his face. His eyes held mine, not a question but a warning.

And then Molly fired.

It happened in slow motion, like watching a bad replay. I saw the moment the bullet hit Madoc, the way his body recoiled, the way his gloved hands tightened, then loosened on the railing. He didn’t fall so much as slip away. There was a sharp, pointed silence, and then a quiet splash.

My knees gave out from under me.

“No,” I whispered in horror. It played again in my head—his shoulders, his hands, his silent fall—and I went numb, totally numb. I didn’t feel the blood soaking beneath my bare legs. I didn’t hear the sound that wrenched out of me, didn’t understand why Molly was looking down at me like I was a wounded animal.

I’m sorry, Jax. I’m so fucking sorry.

Cold metal brushed my temple, jolting me from the murky nothingness. I lifted my head and stared up at the demon wearing my sister’s skin.

“There is no saving me,” Molly said hollowly.