Page 124 of Lovely Darkness

“Yes,” Donovan says. “It will.”

Those of us who were there that night all look at each other. Me. Nathan. Adam. McKay. Donovan. And we remember what he was in the middle of doing out there in the swampy woods.

He was stealing her. He was stealing my Maggie.

She was drugged and he was stealing her.

For a moment, I’m off my game. I don’t understand. What is he doing? Why does he want her knocked out?

This wasn’t in the plan!

Adam is yelling now. “No. No fucking way. You can go ahead and kill yourself for all I care. I did the best I could for you, Donovan, but no. This ends now. So do it. Blow your fuckin’ head off, I don’t care. You’re not getting her.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE - NICK

“Wait.” I put myself between Adam and Donovan. Because fuck that. I didn’t come all this way so that these two assholes could fuck up Wendy’s cure with a pissing contest. “Half, Donovan. Half. That cupful is too much. Whatever you’re doing, you can’t want her dead, right?”

We are this close to fixing shit.

We are this close to putting things right.

We are this close to walking out of here new, better people who never have to think about the Company, and these fucked-up assholes in it, ever again.

There is no way in hell I’m gonna let Donovan Couture kill himself before I get what I need. Because that’s what he’s doing with this Maggie stunt. He’s begging Adam to kill him. And Adam is about to oblige.

That’s not how this day ends.

Not until I get what I need. And if Adam gets in my way, brother or not, I will put him down.

I’m facing Adam, not the gun that is now pointed at my back. So I see him change in real time right in front of my eyes. “Why are you even here, Nick? Hmm?” He looks over my shoulder at Donovan, then around the room. And even though I can’t see where his gaze lands, I know exactly where it lands.

Right. On. Wendy.

Donovan clocks this—of course he does—and Wendy becomes the main event. “Do you have any idea, Wendy?” Donovan says. “Any idea at all?”

“What are you taking about?” She sounds a little confused. But not really. Like her answer is more rote than thoughtful. Something she feels obligated to say.

“Do you have any idea why you are so fucked up?”

“What?” Wendy looks at me, her eyes starting to fill up with questions. “Why does everything with people have to be such a fuckin’ mystery? Why does every word that comes out of your mouths have to be a damn puzzle? Can’t you ever just say what you mean?”

“Oh”—Donovan smiles from the corner—“you want me to say what I mean? OK. Let’s cut to the chase. Wendy here is impatient. Wendy, darling, I might not know you well, but people like you. You’re a likable girl. So I’m going to spell it out for you in the interest of time. I don’t have your cure, sweetie.”

The gun is still pointed at my back. Which means it’s pointed at all of us.

It’s kinda dumb, really. How good of a shot could Donovan Couture be? He’s not like the rest of us. Not even a little bit like the rest of us.

I must be missing critical pieces of this puzzle because Adam, McKay, Indie, and Nathan all take his gun threat very, very seriously.

“What?” Wendy says again, the tone of her voice slightly higher this time. Like she’s getting ready to be agitated. “What is he talking about, Nick? How could he know about the cure? Did you tell him? How could you tell him that?”

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.

But it’s not like I need to. Donovan is still talking. “He didn’t tell me. He told Merc over there.” Donovan nods his chin to Merc. “They talked all about you and your cure, little Wendy.” He kinda jerks his head to the fireplace behind him. “I heard it all, Nick. Everything you told Merc up in your room last night floated right down that chimney. I’m sorry, Wendy. I don’t have your cure. But Nick does. He’s had it for years.”

Fuck.

I shake my head at Wendy. Point my finger at her. “Don’t turn on me now, Mrs. Tate. He’s part of the plan, remember?”