Page 39 of The Unravelings

JJ rolls his eyes. “I will look into it more thoroughly, okay? We’ll catch who is doing it.” His voice cracks slightly, catching in his throat. He swallows hard, reaching for his phone and quickly typing out a message to some mysterious fucker and putting it away.

See? I’m not the only one affected by this bullshit happening. What next? Will someone exhume her damn body and take her away completely? Fat chance. I’d never let that happen. Whoever wants to die is slowly taking away the pieces of her, and I’ll find them with or without Hux and JJ’s help.

“And her gravestone. There’s still a crack in it,” I say through gritted teeth. “Why is someone targeting Olivia’s shit?”

Something passes over JJ’s expression. A shuddering look that he tries to conceal, but doesn’t.

“Someone’s obviously out to rattle us,” Hux says, blowing out a breath. “Why else would they wreck her grave and treehouse? They want our attention.”

“So? Let’s give it to them.” A menacing smile crosses my lips as plans form in my mind.

“And who exactly wants our attention?” Hux asks with exasperation. “We have no clue who is doing this. You can’t go after phantoms, Mack.”

Oh, yeah? Fucking watch me.

I purse my lips. “I have a few suspects in mind. Maybe the asshole who kidnapped you?” Or maybe a certain asshole I saw walking out of the woods. But I don’t say that. Not yet. Oliver and I have beef. Major beef. Not only did he win a fight that was supposed to humiliate him for going against us—more specifically, against Hux. Granted, Amanda was crying wolf and making a scene. Per her damn usual.

But now?

That asshole was at the scene of the crime. Walking out of the damn woods that no one dares to set foot in. Hello, haunted trees and shit. Tell enough lies about ghosts and phantom jaguars dragging college kids to their deaths, and you tend to keep them out of your private places. And coincidences don’t happen in my fucking book. I won’t start a war with Malic or my stupid brother. But my eyes are peeled for all things Oliver.

Hux scoffs, shaking his head. “Don’t do anything fucking stupid. You got it? You start a war. Franco will have your damn balls.”

Me? Stupid? Well, I never.

I roll my eyes, heading toward the stairs. “Or maybe he’d be happy I finally ended the Shades’ pathetic attempt at being our competition. You ever think of that?” I scoff, not bothering to stick around and listen to another word they say. I have a shower calling my name.

As the hot water pours over my flesh, it cleanses another shitty day off my body. Five-mile run in? Check. Plotting my revenge against a scholarship student who seems to get himself into bullshit? Fucking check.

By the time I step out of the shower with a towel wrapped around my waist, the house is quiet and empty. The other two have classes to attend today. But me? I’m free and clear until tomorrow.

I grin. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I pull out a small box from beneath it. I sigh as my old smartphone sits in my hand, and memories come to life in vivid color beneath the cracked, broken screen.

“I’ll find out who is doing this to you,” I say, scrolling through the old pictures with my heart in my throat. “And I’ll end them.”

Oliver. I’ll fucking end him if it’s the last thing I do. First, I’ll gather all the evidence I can against the fucker and strike when he least expects it.

11

Olivia

I stink. I can feel it seeping through the sheets and straight into my nose. Ugh. If I ignore it a little longer, will it magically go away? Yeah, probably not. It’s wishful thinking. I wanted to become one with my mattress while drinking myself silly and forgetting my problems. Is that too much to ask?

I lift my arm, regretting the decision immediately. I recoil, wrinkling my nose and eyeing the offending underarm. I’m a walking, talking billboard for foul body odor. And I do mean foul and ripe as hell. I nearly gag. This is disgusting.

Like a real man, I guess. It’s all part of my disguise—that’s what I’d tell Jonathan if he asked what I’ve been doing the past three days. But has he? Absolutely not. All I’ve heard from him is silence. No, how are you doing, Liv? No, are you still alive, Liv?

Does he even care that he sent me to my death? Because that’s precisely what he did by sending me back here after JJ found out who I was. And for that, I’ve hidden deep under my comforter, staring at my door with impending doom ticking away inside my brain. Well, and drinking some hard liquor hasn’t done me any favors, either.

Ugh.

Is this what three days of bed-rotting smells and feels like?

Yes, yes it does. I haven’t done this since I was a teenager stuck in my room with nothing to do before the boys broke through the bars my father put on my windows. God, what a miracle that was. My father may have lessened the physical abuse he forced me to endure, but the psychological warfare he introduced by isolating me from everyone was way worse.

Oh, and look at what I’m doing to myself now. Dad would be so damn proud.

Ugh. I run a hand down my face.