Page 22 of The Wrecked One

With his other hand, Oliver reached for the knife.

The next thing I knew, he was stabbing him in the side. Violently. In. Out. Not stopping. Not talking. Just destroying him.

“Oliver.” I dropped the gun and fell to my knees, preparing to crawl to him despite my bound wrists. “You can stop now, he’s dead. He—he can’t hurt you. Or me.”

Before I could reach him, the door flung open. I swung my head to see who was there, locating a masked person but definitely a friendly. Catching sight of the bow in their hand, my body relaxed. Sydney.

“Mya!” She lowered her weapon as another masked figure came around her into the room.

“Oliver, stop.” I recognized Carter’s deep voice and purposeful stride as he hurried over and tried to wrangle the knife from him.

Blood was everywhere.

All over the floor. Splattered on the walls.

On Oliver’s chest, face, and hands.

I watched in horror as both Carter and Sydney took hold of Oliver’s arms to try and pull him off what was now a mangled, bloody corpse.

“The site is secure. We have one left alive to question,” someone said from behind us.

When Oliver stopped resisting, they hesitantly, but finally, let him go.

He sat back on his heels, chin lifted while his arms fell lifeless at his sides. He tipped his face toward Anurak’s body and in a defeated tone said, “You’re too late.”

6

MYA

SINGAPORE

No IV for fluids. No heart monitor. Zero vitals being checked. Because Oliver kept removing them after the nurses reattached the cords and IV. He’d refused to be sedated as well. At least he’d let them properly treat his knife wound.

Helpless, I stood by his bedside, wishing he’d talk to me. At the very least, let me hold his hand.

His head was lolled to the side, eyes out the window on Marina Bay.

I was going a bit crazy with worry. Too concerned for him to think about what had actually happened, or the fact he’d killed someone to prevent a man from raping me.

In a rush to leave Thailand, we’d used Carter’s jet to fly to Singapore, where Carter had people he trusted on standby to assist getting us safely into the country without police notice. His people had arranged for a private hospital suite to treat Oliver’s wounds.

Thank God for the team, and for Carter’s resources and contacts all over the globe. I still couldn’t believe they’d found us so quickly without our trackers, but . . . they did, and that was all that mattered.

But what happened before they showed up would haunt the both of us for a long time, and I wasn’t quite sure how we’d move forward. We had to find a way, but . . .

“Mya.”

I looked over my shoulder to see Sydney in the doorway. She tipped her head, signaling for me to join her in the hall.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered, but Oliver remained motionless in the bed, no indication he’d heard me.

Outside the dimly lit room, I squinted from the harsh fluorescent lights. Sydney looped her arm with mine and walked us into my private room next door. A room I didn’t want to be in, and definitely didn’t need, because I was fine. A bit dehydrated. Some abrasions, and a few bruises. But aside from that, I was physically okay. My scars were internal, and I knew they’d take much longer to heal. If they ever do.

“He won’t say anything,” I muttered, taking shallow breaths, feeling a bit lightheaded. “I’m worried.” More than just worried. Terrified for him.

“He’s in shock.” Sydney guided me to the bed and sat next to me, never losing hold of my arm. “He needs time.”

Time? Could time ever erase what happened that morning? I doubted Oliver would see it that way.

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