Page 118 of The Catalyst

“Why the fuck do you care?” he growls as his words bellow from his chest. His words remind me of a time where I didn’t trust him and it makes my heart hurt.

I meet his icy gaze with unblinking conviction, and my head held high. “Do you really want to waste time standing here, listening to my reasons? Or do you want to get on the road and nail this son of a bitch to the wall? Make the choice.”

A dangerous snarl covers his face, and he slams his palm into the doorframe before nodding. “Whatever. Just don’t slow me down.”

I step back and follow him down the hall, staying close on his heels. I know Oliver won’t hesitate to leave me behind.

As soon as we make it out to the living room, Charlie has moved onto his hands and knees, readying himself to stand up, but I don’t give myself a moment to think. I reel my foot back and kick him right in the jaw. The bones crack on impact, and the sound rings through the room like a melody on full blast.

I’m about to do something terrible, but sometimes with bad things comes good change. Sometimes, bad and good can coexist. Vigilante justice has a purpose. It makes sure nothing goes unpunished. It ensures that the victimized can sleep at night knowing they’re safe.

We can give that to Aimee.

Pulling the hood of my jacket over my head, I run around Oliver’s black Mustang and slide into the front passenger seat before he has even reached the driveway.

Oliver climbs into the driver’s seat and barely has the car on before he speeds around the house, over the curb, and zooms out of the neighborhood.

CHAPTER 45

BETH

There’s a saying I’ve heard a few times in my life.

You need a little bit of insanity to do great things.

I’ve never thought of it before, but I’m pretty sure Oliver is the personification of that sentiment. He is batshit crazy, and I’ve known that since I met him. There isn’t a normal bone in his body, but greatness exists. For one, the way he jumped up to do what was right for Aimee says exactly how far he is willing to go to get the required results. He won’t stop until she never has to worry about her stepfather ever again.

The question is, why? I have my reasons for being here, but what are his?

Oliver rams his foot on the gas, booking it as soon as the car is on the highway. My hand shoots for the oh-shit handle, and my stomach leaps into my throat. Every muscle in my body tenses, and for a moment, I regret getting in this car with him.

Oliver is a terrible driver. I guess going so long without being in a car with him as the driver will make one forget that truth.

“Aimee is Nigel’s sister,” I start, my voice squeaking at first. Though he doesn’t acknowledge me, he does slow down, and I sense he’s listening to what I’m saying. “He told me a lot about her. He loves her, and she seems to be the only one in his family he cares about.”

He grinds his teeth while he grits out, “Is there a purpose to your babbling?”

“You asked me why I care. I care because she’s Nigel’s family. Plus…” I trail off as I take a deep breath to calm myself down so I don’t burst out crying. Lord knows I did enough of that with Nigel earlier in the night. “If the roles were reversed and I was the one someone did that to, I’d like to hope there would be at least one person who would make sure the one who hurt me got the fate they deserved.”

The car falls silent outside of the rumbling engine for a few minutes until Oliver speaks.

“You have more than one,” he whispers into the air.

I nod, knowing it’s true. Nigel would kill for me. I get the sense that Oliver would, too. I can’t say Martin would necessarily kill for me, but I know within my heart of hearts that he would lay down his life to protect me. That’s in the same ballpark.

If someone raped and tortured me like what was done to Aimee, I have people that would burn down Grove Hill and the rest of the continent for me.

Oliver’s jaw tenses and I have to wonder what about that seems to get under his skin.

“If you have something you wish to say to me then just say it. If I shouldn’t expect you to read minds, don’t expect it out of me. Why are you acting like you’re pissed off?” I ask, feeling self-conscious about this conversation.

“Because I fucking am. I’m allowed to be pissed, alright?” That’s better than the cold shoulder he’s been giving me lately.

“Why though?”

He slams his fist into the steering wheel before groaning. “Because of thisthingwith you and Nigel.”

“What thing?” How is that supposed to tell me anything?

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