Page 144 of The Catalyst

Yesterday, I cried my eyes out after visiting Nigel in jail. Now, I’m done having a pity party, and I need to bring him home. I can’t let Nolan win. I have to fight back, and the only way I can do that is by visiting the patriarch of the Gray family. I know Martin said it’s dangerous, but it's my last card to play.

I’ve already met Nolan and I never wanted to be around him more than that, but he’s the one in control of what’s happening right now. I can’t just forget that Nigel is in jail because of me and sail off into the sunset with Ollie and Martin.

I’m not that damn heartless. Nigel has done a lot of bad things, but this entire situation is my fault. I put us here and now I need to fix it.

I only told Oliver that Nolan Gray wants Nigel’s head on a platter for the very public stunt at the accident scene. I doubt he would care if Nigel fought Martin unless it affected their public image or challenged his masculinity.They fight in the ring all the time.

“And you heard what my cousin said about his piece of shit father. You’renotgoing to that house.” He turns in his seat and glares at me with malice in those icy blues. “Do you seriously think I’m not worried? I’m pissed and freaked out because my best friend is locked in a cell where anyone can walk in and do whatever the fuck they want or whatever Nolan pays them to do to Nigel, but there is nothing we can do. That prick isn’t going to let Nigel off the hook just because a pretty girl says please.”Ollie and Nigel may have their issues now, but that doesn’t change that Ollie cares about Nigel and doesn’t want anything bad to happen to him either.

“If you’re so fucking worried, why aren’t you doing anything? I’m the only one here coming up with any ideas to get him out of there!”

“Because he wanted me to keep you safe, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. This isn’t the same as every other situation we have faced. Going up against the Grays is ugly and brutal, and they always win.”

“That doesn’t even fucking make sense. Youarea Gray, Ollie.”

“I’m the fucking son of the illegitimate sister to the patriarch, okay? I don’t have any fucking leg to stand on and neither does Martin. Don’t you get it? Nolan owns everyone in this town, including those with control over the law. Cops, lawyers, judges–all of them are in Nolan Gray’s pocket. There’s nothing I can do!” By the time he finishes, he’s screaming at the top of his lungs with frustration. He balls his fists against the steering wheel before repeatedly slamming his head into it. The madness is creeping in and fogging everything else. It’s like when we dealt with Aimee’s stepdad, how he tragically lost himself. The only thing that kept him grounded was me.

“Hey, stop,” I demand as I move close to his side and run my fingers over his shoulder and into his hair. “Ollie, please.” At least he stopped slamming his head into the steering wheel. That’s a bonus, but he’s all stiff and doesn’t seem to be breathing. “I’m with you. Always. Remember? I won’t lose you in the madness, and you won’t lose me.” I sniffle my tears as I play with his hair. “I need you to trust me. I need you to let me do this, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll come up with something else. And, if Nigel…” I trail off, thinking of the worst-case scenario. “We’ll face that together, too. We’re in this together.” Throwing my arms around his neck, I press myself close to his body and wait for his muscles to relax.

“Fine,” he caves. “I’ll take you, but I’m not leaving you there.”

* * *

“I don’t like this.I have a bad feeling,” he admits as his fingers tighten around mine and he pulls up to the mansion.

“I know, but I have to try. The accident was completely my fault. If I hadn’t helped Casey leave, Martin wouldn’t have been driving the way he was. I wasn’t exactly driving like a sane person. It’s all on me, and I have to make this right. If I don’t…” I struggle to swallow the lump of air lodged in my throat as my airway tightens and restricts everything. “I won’t be able to live with the guilt.”

He knows I’m right, and that’s the part that really sucks about this. Oliver knows me inside and out, so my pain is his pain. My shame, his shame. My broken heart. His heart crumbles along with me. I don’t want my pain to hurt him, but it’s inevitable. We’re too connected for it not to.

“I’ll be out as fast as I can, and if I need your help, I’ll text you, okay?”

I don’t give him a chance to respond before I’m out of the car, and I walk up the ten steps from the driveway to the front door, stuffing my phone into my pocket. If I need Ollie for protection or as backup, he’s only a text message or phone call away. He won't leave me here, and I know that all the way down into the darkest parts of my soul, parts only Oliver Doyle has been privy to.

Knocking on the white door, I count my breaths as I wait, trying to slow my racing heart. I’ve made it to one-fifty by the time the door opens, and I’m greeted by the rude butler I remember from the last time I was here–Bernard.

“Can I help you, miss?”

I nod. “Yes, I’m looking for Nolan Gray.”

The elderly man gives me a skeptical look before he hums. “Right. Wait here, and I’ll see if he will see you.” Then, the old man slams the door in my face as if I’ve offended him somehow. I was nothing but respectful in our limited interaction.

“What the fuck,” I grumble, but within a minute, the asshole butler throws open the door, motioning for me to enter. “Slam a door in my face again and see what happens,” I warn him, and he instantly stiffens but refuses to meet my eyes.

Seriously, he didn’t do that last time I was here.

“I’ll show you to Mr. Gray’s office, miss.” He doesn’t say another word as I walk further into the mansion. My pulse thrums in my neck as I follow close behind the asshole butler as he turns down a hall.

Nolan Gray’s office must be pretty close since the butler returned so quickly after saying he was going to make sure I was allowed to step inside.

The gold tile cuts off at the beginning of the hall and turns into a blood-red carpet that goes perfectly with the beige walls. Just as we make it to where the corridor turns, a man with blonde hair comes into view, and I don’t know who it is until he lifts his head and I’m met with oceanic eyes.

Martin.

His eyes widen, and he grabs my arm before I can pass him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he growls with frustration.

“What I need to do.”

“Mr. Gray–” the butler tries, but Martin just sends him a stern look, and the man shuts up.

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