Page 200 of The Unravelings

He blinks several times, breaking the spell between us. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says in a softer voice than normal. “What treehouse? I wouldn’t destroy something if it wasn’t mine.”

“The one in the woods,” I retort quickly.

“The woods?” His brows furrow as we sit in silence for more than a minute. “Oh, past the cemetery?”

“Playing dumb won’t get you anywhere,” I growl. “I saw you, Davenport. I saw you waltz out of those woods with a fucking grin on your face. The very same day, all her shit got broken into pieces. I know it was you. Now, own up to it, and your punishment won’t be too fucking brutal.”

“I went for a walk,” he says, twisting his face. “I walk in those woods sometimes when I’m bored. The other kids told me they were haunted, so I went to check them out. I never saw a treehouse. I never broke your things. I wouldn’t.” There’s a kernel of truth resting in his words, but I can’t get myself to believe anything he says. “I swear, Mack,” he says in a softer tone now.

Hearing my name on his lips has goosebumps spreading across my flesh. There’s something there. Something real in the way he says it. But I don’t have time to dissect why it elicits a visceral reaction in me. No. The only thing I have time for is pulling the answers from his lips. A short amount of time, might I add. I tilt my head and study Oliver more. The delicate features of his face. The slope of his button nose. The high cheekbones and pouty lips. He’s so small. So tiny beneath me, it feels like I could break him in one go. Then, there’s the innocence lurking behind his eyes. The spark that keeps me rooted on top of him and frozen with thoughts.

What if Oliver really didn’t do it? What if he was simply walking through the woods? I’m a rational man. Okay, not usually. But still. I can be. There’s something about Oliver that nags at me. This kid, who showed up at the beginning of the year, has a way with people. I’ve seen him interact with everyone. He was able to sway Huxley not to fight back in the hallway of the admin building when Amanda cried wolf. I’ve seen the way Malic Monroe looks at him, too. Hell, even my stupid brother has gaga eyes for the guy. So, I need to figure out what his deal is. Is he innocent? Or is he a massive manipulator hiding behind a mask of innocence?

“Liar,” I grit out, reaching for the black bag in my back pocket. “It’s a good thing we have time to talk this out.” I grin, holding the bag between us, and climb off his small body until I’m standing. “Now, sit up. This is going over your face. We have somewhere secret to meet, but we’ll discuss why you ruined my girl’s shit more as we walk to it. And if you tell me the truth, I won’t drop you off in the deepest, darkest part of the cave and laugh while you cry, trying to get out.” I grin, imagining how Oliver will react when I do, in fact, drop him off in the deepest part of the cave system with no lighting, no maps, and no way to get the sack off his head. Cruel? Well, that’s the fucking point. If they can’t manage to get themselves out of a sticky situation, then how the fuck are they supposed to handle being in a gang? Answer—they can’t.

Oliver rolls his eyes, but sits on the edge of the bed, anyway, like a good fucking boy. “You mean, you attempting to choke me to death isn’t a part of the initiation process?” He grunts when I put the bag over his head and cut off his vision, hearing, smell, and fucking taste. Say goodbye to your damn senses, OliPop. Every muscle in his body tenses. Good.

I grin at the sight of him, sitting on the edge of the bed with his hands tied and a bag over his head. So helpless and all fucking mine to torture. “There was no attempt,” I chuckle, taking a step back. “I could have ended you right here and now if I wanted.” Maybe it was a mistake putting the bag on so early. I can’t see his eyes or detect the twitches of his lips from under the bag, but I have to get going. If JJ gets wind that I’m taking longer than necessary, he’ll probably rush up here to save the day.

You’re not allowed to be the hero today, JJ.

No one is.

All Oliver will get is the newest villain in his story.

“And if you’re so convinced I did it, then why are you letting me into your club?” His muffled question hits my ears.

“Because,” I scoff, stepping up to him and leaning in. “It’s not my decision. If it were up to me, you wouldn’t be allowed into this. But the big boss approved.” Not to mention, he told us to watch the fucker for whatever reason. I think he suspects Oliver as much as I do. Maybe I’ll make Oliver my own little bitch through the initiation process. Oh, yes. I like that. Each of us gets a little shadow to follow us around and do our bitch work.

And this year? I chose Oliver.

Last year, it was Garret. The poor fucker. It’s a shame he dropped out of GU, moved away, and took hush money to never discuss the incident again. And the incident? Well, it wasn’t that big of a fucking deal. I was protecting Liv’s honor. My honor, too. You can’t come into my fucking house and disrespect the woman I love and will love forever. So, I took care of the problem.

Franco would have to swoop in and calm everyone’s nerves by throwing money around and forcing Garrett’s family to fuck off to wherever they came from. They happily did. He cleaned up my mess and then made my life more of a hellscape. After Theo and Garrett, I’ve been on my best behavior. I only use my fists in the Coliseum. Nowhere else. I’d rather not feel the noose tightening around my neck as Franco holds the rope. He’ll squeeze and squeeze until he has broken me enough to morph me into a zombie.

Fuck that.

I blow out a breath.

“All right, Oliver. Let’s have a little chat,” I grunt, throwing the little guy over my shoulder. Fuck. He’s light as a damn feather and lanky as fuck. Finally, he cries out, gasping for breath. “Oh, right. Brutus hit you hard in the ribs, didn’t he? Did you know ribs take a long time to heal? Even if they aren’t broken. They hurt like a bitch,” I chuckle at the information.

“Need my glasses,” he grunts out, wiggling against my shoulder.

“Not that you’ll see much where you’re heading to. But sure,” I say, grabbing his glasses from the desk and walking out of his dorm room, making sure to shut the door tightly behind me. As we walk toward the stairs, I tuck Oliver’s glasses into his pocket.

“I’m aware,” he wheezes again in a girly squeal, trying to catch his breath.

“Oh no, the stairs, Oliver,” I chuckle, bouncing down the two flights of stairs, listening with glee as he wheezes and squirms.

Huh. Guess I should have done this to begin with.

“So, care to confess?” I ask when we step out of the dorm building and onto the darkened path. The voices of my other initiates filter through the air as we all make our way back to the graveyard.

“There’s nothing to confess,” he says again in a breathless voice. “I swear. I didn’t touch anything.”

“No? You didn’t touch the treehouse? How about the gravestone?” I poke again, hoping to get an answer out of him since I can’t get anything out of JJ about the damn gravestone. It’s like he forgot or failed to find anything. First, he said there were leads, and then poof! Nothing showed up. It’s so damn annoying to have things breaking around me and no answers to my questions.

“What gravestone?” he hisses, bouncing on my shoulder again as I skip down the pathway with a grin.