Page 95 of The Wrecked One

I slammed a hand over my heart. “I owe it everything. I owe the world a life for a life.”

Her eyes narrowed, and she caught that wobble in her lip with her teeth. “Yours?” She stared at me quietly, waiting for me to say no, but I wasn’t so sure I could. “Or Hugo’s? Because if you think you’re going to be a martyr for this cause, then I have news for you, it’s not happening.”

Shit, she was going to try and stop the fight with the ammo she had—the facts about my condition—which meant I’d have to beat her to it and tell Carter and Gray first. Then I’d have to convince them I was still up for the fight with Hugo. “This is the best plan.”

“Why don’t we just let The Collective take out the trash for us? The Sorens are controlling the messages so their group doesn’t know they’ve been compromised. We can get ahead of them. Actually get word out on every social media platform about them, instead of only threatening to do it. Then it’s bye-bye Sorens. No deathmatch.”

“And goodbye lead. We’ve already established that if they go into hiding, we have nothing.” I thought I had her convinced for a minute when she smiled at me, but then I realized it was only because of the fucking Justin Timberlake bye-bye-bye hand gesture I made with my statement. What is wrong with me? Getting my shit together, I reminded her, “The Collective will just replace the Sorens with a new family to be the hub of their wheel, or whatever analogy we’re using today. It’ll never end.”

“And what if my parents are another lead? We haven’t confirmed their involvement, but it’s possible they know something that can help us take down the rest of The Collective.” She set her arm across her midsection like she was going to be sick and spun away from me.

“If they’re tied to the Sorens, they’ll hide as well, or the other members of The Collective will take them out, too.” It’s what they do. “The only reason why the Sorens are still alive is because the rest of their asshole group doesn’t know their identities have been compromised. Same holds true for your parents. It’s pretty damn clear now only the Sorens and your parents know it’s our team that’s been hunting their organization.”

“And they can’t tell The Collective about us without risking their own asses. Just like if we expose the truth about the Sorens . . .” She cursed under her breath. “We’re in the same boat, balancing on the same double-edged sword they are.”

“But we have the paddles with this play, and they don’t.” Another analogy. Fuck my life. What was happening to me? “We’ll have the upper hand in what comes next.”

We’d said as much at Carter’s suite, so I knew she understood this. Her fear of my fighting Hugo was getting in the way of what was the best move for the mission, for the greater good.

“You’ll be hunted down nonstop once the rest of The Collective knows you exist. The whole team will be.” The bitter truth was needed, so I let her have it. “They’ll go after everyone you love to make you suffer until they find you.”

“There’s still a chance the Sorens make the decision to drop our names to the world in retaliation, or at least, to The Collective, then go into hiding,” she said somberly.

“That’s a risk, yes. We could lose not only our only lead but the opportunity to kill them. But Stef Soren is getting old, and he knows he needs to pick a son to take over for him soon. My guess is he doesn’t want his bullshit legacy ending with his family having to go hide in some bunker for the rest of their lives. We’re inviting his family to a war. A fair fight. In and outside the ring. You know the choice they’ll make based on your research about them.” And that was why she was so worried, because she did know.

“Fair,” she scoffed. “Is it really a fair fight? Trust me, I know you’re amazing and skilled, but you’ve been training for a few months and have a bad shoulder. Hugo’s been training for decades. And what if he has no Achilles’ heel?”

“Then find one for me. Help me find his weak spot.” I didn’t believe in fighting dirty, but after what happened in Thailand, and what I knew the Sorens were capable of, I’d make an exception.

“There has to be another way.” Her lashes fluttered, disbelief in what was to come still in her eyes. “What if we can track down more of the past sales of those pigeons to find a new lead for The Collective? Get my parents to talk before they cut and run, or um, get killed.” She swallowed. “Ohh . . . or maybe we get the hacker to tell us something helpful. They clearly know a lot more than they led us to believe if they’re actually undercover with the Sorens.”

“Those are all possibilities and backup plans for if this doesn’t work.”

She wrinkled her nose, not a fan of my comeback.

“I’m doing this, Mya. I have to, regardless of whatever other puzzle pieces you find. This is how it ends.” It’s the only way. “You’ll be staying in Dubai with Diana and Gwen, and nowhere near the fight. End of story.” I went to step around her to finally make my escape, but she tugged at the back of my shirt.

I dipped my chin, my vision locking on to the dead man’s blood on my shirt but didn’t give in and face her.

“Maybe you don’t care about your life, but I know you care about mine.” Her voice broke as she asked, “So, if you die in that ring, who’s going to protect me when I might need it the most?”

I hung my head and closed my eyes, thinking back to not even thirty minutes ago, when Mason had drawn her into his arms as if his life depended on it. “You know exactly who,” I whispered, hoping she wouldn’t hear the break in my voice as well. “There are two men in this hotel who are in love with you, Mya, and if I die next week, I’ll die knowing he’ll keep you safe when I can’t.” I opened my eyes and moved toward the door, jerking forward slightly when she let go of my shirt.

“Oliver,” she choked out.

I went still, my hand hovering over the knob. My shoulders relented from the weight of the pressure, and I surrendered and gave her my attention.

Tears were streaming down her cheeks as she visibly trembled. “Well, there’s one person in this hotel who’s in love with you,” she whispered, “and like hell is she letting you die next week.”

37

OLIVER

THE NEXT DAY

“I’m sorry about the other day,” Julia apologized over the phone as I sat inside my bedroom.

Just kill me now. Hunched over, I held my head at Julia’s soft, sad words. Speak. Say something back, dammit.

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