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“What the hell?” he snaps, rubbing his side as he glares at me.
“When did Olivia call? And don’t tell me she hasn’t.”
He looks genuinely confused.
“I haven’t felt it safe enough to contact her with a new number yet, considering there was some federal activity on her name. I set her phone up for alerts to notify her if anyone got wind of her trail, and had her a new identity ready and waiting. If she has to leave, she’ll go to the safe house, and I’ll get an alert when she does.”
He holds up his phone and I sink to the sand a little more as I hand him my phone to read.
He skims the article at first, then bolts upright to a seated position
.
“Olivia wouldn’t have shot him,” he says, shaking his head. “She was content with drawing it out as long as possible once his organs started failing.”
“Apparently something happened. I never pictured her as a crotch shooter, but that’s where he bled out from.”
“Maybe she spent too much time with you,” he quips, still reading it.
I remember the day Jake figured it out. I’d already been suspicious, but couldn’t bring myself to fully believe it. Not until Jake walked in and we both confirmed the worst case scenario together.
He had all the copies of his father’s DVDs in his hands, and tears were in his eyes. We watched the trial again together, saw the occasional slip up when Christopher would smirk as my father sobbed.
It became overtly obvious during one home video when his father couldn’t look away from my mother at a birthday party. And his jaw was grinding when my father came up and kissed her, causing her to giggle in his arms.
It was the most painful realization.
My father’s best friend.
My best friend’s father.
The same man who had sat at our table for holidays when we were growing up, was the same man who’d sentenced my father to the worst death imaginable.
That’s when we called Olivia.
Jake didn’t even hesitate. He hated him already, but he said his father was dead to him after that.
He started the regimen Olivia concocted—a new synthetic parasite she’d been working on in her lab—and so it began. The first thing to leave him was his sex drive. Not even a little blue pill could fix that.
The second thing to go was his energy.
From there, things just slowly, agonizingly, started getting worse and worse. She assured us the pain would grow to be unbearable, and she was all too happy to make it happen.
Jake helped her get the synthetic parasite off the lab property and even hacked the files that held the information about it. She also took a few extras for later on—the endgame.
My part was miniscule. All I had to do was be the lookout during the planning of this.
This wasn’t just my revenge. It was theirs more so than mine.
Christopher Denver wronged my father in more ways than I can even fathom, even played his best friend and lawyer, but at the end of the day, Jake was his own son. He was wronged the most.
Because of his father, Jake lost the love of his life back then.
Because of his father, Olivia’s sister was raped and murdered.
My misery was placed on the backburner. I had enough people to kill.
“This is crazy. Olivia should be on the run if they suspect her,” Jake says thoughtfully, drawing me out of my own reverie.
