Page 84 of Oliver

Tears push at my lids, and I shake my head. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t. If this is the end, so fucking be it.

I’m tired—exhausted actually. I’ve been outrunning what’s boiling inside me, but the truth is, this was always about me. My selfish need to make it right, what I did.

All that got me was a slew of problems and a fucking headache. I was selfish then and I’m being fucking selfish now. This is karma slapping me in the fucking face.

Hate exits and the vehicle shakes on its hinges. Biting my lip, I follow. It’s almost a relief to think this is my end and I sag before straightening my shoulders. No. No fucking way will I give in without a fight.

I’m stronger than that shit. Besides, I’d like to live long enough to kick Oliver’s ass.

Hate stalks through the door without looking back. Rolling my eyes, I mutter as I step in behind him, “Prick.”

I’m not sure what I was expecting inside but it’s not an empty room with dust bunnies clinging to the walls. Hate swings around and I brace myself.

When he cocks his head, I shiver, compounded by the sly smile that curves his lips. “Oh, this is precious. You think you can take me?”

“So, what?” I grit through my teeth. “You brought me here to kill me?”

He laughs out loud, and I grimace. This isn’t funny. Dick.

“If I were gonna kill, you’d already be dead.”

Okay, while I’m relieved, I’m also a little disturbed by his nonchalant response to murder. Who are these fucking people?

“Why am I here?” I ask.

Shrugging, he says, “Willow traded for this.”

“For…what?” Glancing around, I raise my brow. It’s not a safe house unless I’m expected to sleep on the floor. Which, I guess, is possible. Hate doesn’t strike me as the domestic type.

“You want answers. Fine. What happens after that is not my problem,” he grunts.

My pulse thumps and I raise my hand. “What answers? Oliver…?”

“He’s just the tip of the iceberg, baby. You want it all, brace yourself. You can’t go back.” He’s dead serious and I guess I should be appropriately cautious but all I feel is a tingle of excitement.

Am I finally going to get to the bottom of it all?

Hate eyes me with a frown before mumbling, “Crazy bitch. Okay, here’s the deal. We’re going to a party, but you can’t go like that.”

“Okay. Like a dress or something?” I can do that. I’m already considering what I can use in my closet when he snorts.

“No, they won’t let you in unless they think you’re my bitch.” He raises a brow and stares at me expectantly.

“You’re…bitch. So, what like a girlfriend?”

His sigh parts my hair and I stiffen. “I’m sorry, I don’t know the inner workings of your criminal fucking enterprise, asshole.”

Once again, his lips curve and I fight the urge to blanch. “You’re cute. You ever want a dick with less shit following you around, let me know.”

Although flattering in a ridiculously insulting way, I wave it off and say, “Well?”

Crossing his arms, he growls, “You go as my whore. It’s the only way in.”

“W-Whore? So, like girlfriends don’t go?” I ask weakly.

He rolls his eyes and I bite my lip…hard. I’m guessing screaming at him to stop being a dick won’t go over well, but you better believe that I say it in my head.

“No, Penny. These are killers. They don’t bring their girlfriends. They bring their whores. Women who know the drill. Keep your mouth shut.”

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