Page 65 of Obscurity
“But you didn’t listen,” he continued. “None of y’all ever listen. And now you’re gonna pay!”
Olive’s lungs tightened at his ominous words.
Even worse—she feared the man might be right.
Brad appeared from somewhere in the crowd, his face flushed with anger and embarrassment. “Security! Get this man off my stage!”
“Your stage?” The Guardian’s laugh was bitter. “Boy, this here land belonged to my kin long before you set foot. And it’ll be ours long after you’re gone.”
The guards were closing in now, but the old man wasn’t finished.
“The roots run deep in Grayfall.” His voice rose above the approaching footsteps. “Deep enough to hide secrets. Deep enough to swallow folks whole. Y’all best remember that.”
As security finally reached him, the Guardian allowed himself to be escorted away.
“This is my cue,” Olive whispered to Jason. “Everyone’s watching the drama. I’m going now. I’ll be careful.”
Concern filled his gaze as he realized what she was talking about. “Olive, wait?—”
But she had already slipped away from the crowd, using the chaos and confusion to disappear into the shadows between the abandoned buildings.
Behind her, Brad tried to regain control of his audience, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining his cheerful facade.
This was Olive’s chance. She couldn’t blow it.
CHAPTER 42
From Olive’s hiding spot behind an old gas station, she studied the house where Brad was staying, noting the layout, the windows, the potential entry points.
She’d had just enough time to go back to the tent. She’d changed her shoes, grabbed a black hat and a black hoodie. She’d slipped them on only once she was in the woods.
She counted at least two figures moving around inside—dark silhouettes visible through the large windows. Both appeared to be in what looked like a living area on the first floor. The back of the house faced the forest, providing cover for approach but also eliminating her ability to see if there were additional occupants.
This is insane,she told herself.Breaking into a house with unknown hostiles inside, no backup, no communication.
But if there was even a chance that Chloe or Becca were being held inside . . .
Olive waited another five minutes, timing the movements of the figures and noting their patterns.
The people on the first floor now seemed to be stationary—probably watching television or working at a computer.
The back door was her best option. It faced away from the festival grounds and was partially concealed by an expensive-looking deck with outdoor furniture that would provide additional cover.
That was how she’d get inside.
Her muscles tensed as she readied herself to move.
Moving through the trees, Olive approached the house from the rear.
Her heart hammered against her ribs as she crossed the open ground between the forest and the building, expecting shouts or alarm bells at any moment.
The back door was locked, but it was a standard residential deadbolt—nothing she couldn’t pick. Her dad had taught her that skill.
Within thirty seconds, the mechanism clicked, disengaging.
She slipped inside and found herself in a mudroom that connected to the kitchen.
The contrast between this space and the festival conditions was jarring. It had granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and even fresh flowers in expensive vases.
