Page 133 of Tangled in Vows

I don’t know what comes over me, but I say, “I’m sorry for your loss, Lyndsay.”

I don’t think she hears me. At least she doesn’t react.

A second later, a small smile forms on her face. “I can’t wait to be reunited with Felix. His blood is on your hands, and now you can rot away in prison, all alone, knowing Holden is dead because of you.”

Chapter 42

Olivia

I lie awake in bed, this darkness suffocating me every night.

My brain is still trying to figure out why on earth Lyndsay is talking about prison when she pulls another phone out of her pocket.

“Lyndsay, what are you doing?” It’s still weird not to call her Heather after all the years we worked together.

She types something on her screen before holding the phone to her ear and screaming into it. “No, Olivia, stay away from me.”

What the hell is she doing? Is she calling someone?

“Let’s calm down and talk about this.” I stare at her wild eyes. They’re unfocused, darting around the room. But never straying away from me for long.

She looks ready to lose her shit completely.

I swallow hard, unsure of what to do or say. My throat is dry as sandpaper.

Think, Olivia. Think.

“Yes, I’m in danger.” Her brows bunch together as she stares straight at me with tears in her eyes. They spill over, runningdown her cheeks, her sobs shaking her entire body. “Olivia Parker. 88 Lexington Street, Apartment 1006. Please hurry. She’s trying to kill me. She has a knife.” She screams. “Please, no. Olivia. Stop. Get away from me. Please don’t.”

She takes the phone away from her ear, staring at it for a second, before letting it drop to the floor. It lands with a loud thud.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

This has to be a joke.

Because what the fuck?

“Lyndsay, what’s going on?” I finally manage to get out the words, although I barely hear them over the pounding of my heart.

I push the blankets back, ready to end this whole charade, but Lyndsay shakes her head at me.

“Don’t come any closer, or you’ll regret it.”

Her voice is so full of venom that I pause with my legs down the side of the bed.

“Goodbye, Olivia. I hope you rot in hell and enjoy my parting gift. The whole world will know the truth soon.”

Two things happen before I can react or ask her what she’s talking about now. Lyndsay flicks her thumb over a metal object in her left hand, igniting a small flame while producing a knife from behind her in her other hand.

“Lyndsay, wait. No.” The light glints off the silver blade as she pulls her arm high in the air and rams it forcefully in her midsection.

She grunts, and I jump off the bed. She is not going to kill herself on my watch. Nope. Not happening. I barely make it two steps when she lowers her left hand, the one still holding the lighter.

The instant the lighter makes contact with the floor, flames roar to life, and Lyndsay collapses in the middle of it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

In mere seconds, a blinding wall of orange consumes her while the heat sucks the air out of the room.

My legs are locked in place, the urge to flee battling with the paralyzing shock of this situation. I want to scream. To cry. To do something. But I can’t.

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