Page 20 of Oliver

Most of their coaches would stab you in the back. Just to get you out of the race. It was shocking how much back stabbing went on in all of these kinds of things.

But none of them knew I was there.

I squeezed my eyes shut and thought back to that day.

The burner phone. The blinking light. The way the locker room door had creaked open half a second after I backed out of the office. The cold wash of certainty that I wasn’t alone.

They were already watching.

My new phone Oliver gave me buzzed beside me.

I jumped.

Just a message from Oliver.

I’m in the kitchen if you need anything.

If you need anything.

He always said that like it was so simple. Like what I needed wasn’t to scream, or run, or crawl into my old life and pretend none of this ever happened. I needed my mother, but she’s dead. My father will be here soon. I know he will come as soon as he finds out where I am.

But I didn’t want to be alone. Not now.

I walked barefoot down the hall and found Oliver sitting at the table, typing something on his laptop. A map of Southern California glowed on the screen—pins dropped in locations I didn’t recognize.

“Trouble?” I asked.

“Possibly.” He closed the laptop. “We ran the facility’s security logs. Someone deleted footage from the day you disappeared.”

My stomach dropped.

“Which means someone with access?” I asked.

“Exactly. Admin-level. Could be an employee. It could be someone who hacked in. But whoever it was, they covered their tracks well.”

I sank into the seat across from him. “So what now?”

“We find out what was on the phone. Or at least trace it. The Golden Team is running down some leads.” He hesitated. “River’s got a contact in Homeland Security. If that video you saw was what I think it was…”

“What?” I pushed.

“It could be tied to an arms deal that went sideways months ago. Covert. Quiet. Disappeared from the news cycle fast.”

“And they think I saw evidence?”

“Maybe. Or maybe you saw something that points to someone involved—someone with a lot to lose.”

I rubbed my temples. “So I’m a target until we figure it out.”

“You’re not alone,” he said, reaching across the table and wrapping his fingers around mine. “Not for one second.”

I looked at him—really looked.

The quiet strength in his voice. The storm behind his calm. Those beautiful eyes that I could get lost in.

“You keep saying that,” I whispered.

“Because I mean it.”

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