Page 71 of Little Liar
Fuck. What did I do?
I pocket my phone, throw my leg over the bike, shove my head in the helmet, and set off to her apartment. I still own the one across from her. It has too much shit in it for me to give up right now. If she knew about all the pictures, TV screens, lists of names I hunted—people who even as much as looked at her—she would lose her shit with me. I managed to take the ones I stillneed to the house, but not the rest. She’d faint if she knew just how much I was buried in her privacy.
The cops would pull me over if they saw how fast I’m going, especially in the pouring rain—I zip between cars, squeezing the throttle to gain even more speed until I reach our street.
I pause at the main entranceway, glancing over my shoulder to see a black car stationary outside. The window slides up, hiding whoever it is behind blacked-out glass.
I unlock her apartment with the spare key I had made months ago, then close the door quietly and pause when I hear soft sobs traveling down the hallway from her bedroom.
Despite it only being weeks, the place feels different. I used to come here all the time when she was drugged and passed out. It was like a second home. But Xander came in, changed her wardrobe, made her dye her hair, and the place feels more poisoned than the bottles of wine still in her fridge.
The closer I get to her cries, the more my nerves shatter at the thought of my Olivia being hurt. If it wasn’t me that hurt her, then who is making her cry like this? Who the fuck do I need to kill this time? Everyone else Mom set her up with while I was in prison is buried in my backyard with no trace back to me. The only reason Xander is still standing is because he’s literally untouchable given how much protection he has.
When I reach the room, the cries are louder, and she’s face down on her bed, her body shaking with sobs. My breath halts at the sight.
I want to say her name, but my mouth moves, and no sound comes out. My heart is fucking racing, and all I can do is slowly walk to the side of her bed, lower to my knees beside it, and place my hand on her shoulder.
She flinches, growing silent, except for the sniffs she can’t control from hyperventilating.
“I can’t lose you,” she cries, not looking at me. “I can’t.”
She won’t. Olivia is stuck with me until one of us dies, and even then, we’re still bonded—sealed together by our undying love. Even if she tells me to leave, I won’t. I’m hers and only hers, even if she doesn’t fucking want me.
I’ll take a thousand slaps from Mom. I’m staying.
I kick off my boots, strip my wet clothes to my boxers, and climb into bed beside her. I freeze when I see how red her eyes are—she’s looking at me like she’s in pain. She’s been crying for hours by the looks of her face.
“Why can’t I be in control of my own life? Why did Mom make me like this?” Her entire body wracks with how much she’s trembling in my hold. “I hate who I am because I just want to please her. She saved me, only to put me back in danger. I won’t marry him. I promise I won’t leave you again. She’s setting up a meeting with them, but I won’t do it. I won’t. I promise I won’t.”
My chest swells at the same time my hands fist. Mom made her sad. I should do something about that. Maybe a threat, or maybe I completely ruin her fucking life like she’s trying to do to Olivia.
“I can’t breathe,” she says, gasping and shaking again. “I need you. And that’s what scares me. It scares me how much I need you.”
Holding her tightly through her sobs, I bury my hand into her hair and massage her scalp, placing kisses on her temple and tear-streaked cheek until she falls asleep. I stay here, still as a statue, and wait until she’s completely out cold before I slip away from under her.
I rise from the bed, watching her for a long minute while I try to plan my next move.
I need to deal with Mom. It’s her fault Olivia is upset. It’s her fault she was forced into this life. It’s her fault Xander wants her, and it’ll be her fucking fault when I bury her next to everyoneelse who becomes an obstacle between me and Olivia. I have two more left to deal with before we can move on.
The image of Mom’s lifeless eyes on me as I rob her of her last breath doesn’t make me excited or want to jump at the opportunity of revenge, but if I have to do it, I will.
She and my dad will be sitting down for their dinner—made by the manor’s chef—about now. They’ll discuss work, Olivia’s marriage, and how ridiculous it is that me and her are together.
Two eliminations.
I can do it discreetly too.
Olivia groans and reaches for my hand. “Hold me,” she whispers. “Please.”
My plan can wait until tomorrow.
“Make it stop,” she says, more tears spilling down her cheeks like she hadn’t just fallen asleep. Her body trembles as I come back down beside her, pulling her into my arms.
She’s sobbing again, and I’m clueless—surely I should know how to calm her down? I’m supposed to be her boyfriend.
Do I make her a coffee? Run her a bath? Maybe play some music?
Trembling, she’s uncontrollably crying against me, and I’m frozen. Whenever she was upset when we were younger, I’d cuddle her until she fell asleep. Twice, I held her up in my arms and swayed around my bedroom while she passed out with her head on my shoulder.
