Page 15 of The Wrecked One

You’re distracting them so I can get away. Buying me time. Again. This is my fault.

And oh God, the last horrific thing I witnessed before letting go of the ledge was one of the officers drawing a knife and stabbing Oliver in the side.

At that, I fell to the ground below, my body trembling. With shouts from overhead growing louder, I looked up to see three officers, tossing their legs over the side.

I made eye contact with one as he yelled in English, “Stop. Don’t move!”

Still in shock, I did my best to escape.

You were stabbed because of me.

I left you behind.

Somehow, I kept running, knowing it was what Oliver wanted. Every part of my body hurt and ached with regret. But I was also fueled by the need to save Oliver.

I glanced back to see the space between myself and the officers growing a bit.

No shots fired, which hopefully meant The Collective, if they were behind this—and presumably so—wanted us taken in alive.

I’m coming back for you, Oliver. I promise. Like hell will our story end like this.

4

OLIVER

UNKNOWN LOCATION

“He’s finally coming to. I thought those officers were going to kill him. He’s been out since yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, it turned into a circus, and now we need to clean up the mess.”

Yesterday? What mess?

“Just do your thing. Get him to talk.”

I blinked a few times, trying to figure out where I was and who was talking.

English? British accent, definitely not American. I cataloged any facts I could latch on to in case they would help at some point. They’re in head-to-toe black. Masked.

Windowless room. Concrete walls. Hot as fuck.

A desk with medical supplies sat off to my left, and I appeared to be stretched out on a bed, ankles and wrists cuffed to it.

Did Mya get away?

One of the two masked men left the room, while the other advanced closer to the bed. “What’s your last name, Oliver?”

I groaned when another dose of reality hit. Pain. Everywhere.

But that wasn’t the most disturbing bit of information that infiltrated my gradually awakening brain. How did they know my first name but not my last?

“We know Mya’s full name since she apparently went undercover as herself. Kind of a peculiar alias, don’t you think?” He squatted next to me, only his green eyes visible. At least, that was the color registering in my foggy brain.

It took me a second to fully understand what this asshole just said to me.

On instinct, I snarled and tried to reach for him, but the cuffs were too tight, digging into my skin.

Did they find her, or did she escape? I had to cling to the hope she got away while I’d distracted the officers. Everything was a blur after that. I was fairly certain that, aside from being beaten up, I’d been stabbed in my side. And with every movement I made trying to get free, it felt as though the wound was splitting apart.

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