Page 89 of Little Liar
Rushing to my car, I pull my phone out to see where she is. I have a tracker in her phone, something I was worried about her discovering, but now I’m grateful for my paranoia.
The red dot is moving. Fast.
I set my phone in the holder, press the gas, and speed out of the drive, the car tilting onto two wheels from the tight turn before I straighten it up and accelerate down the dirt road.
Fuck.
I could lose her.
I refuse to lose her.
I can’t. I fucking can’t.
I grit my teeth as I follow the dot, trying to remain calm. Leaning over, keeping the car steady, I empty the glovebox to get my small toolkit and grab the screwdriver.
It’s not the one I used on Olivia.
Someone is trying to take my girl from me, and the faster I catch up to the blip on the screen—which is turning onto a road that will take them into the forest—the louder my heart beats in my ears.
I don’t have anyone’s number to contact them. The only person I have in my new phone is Olivia. Why don’t I have my dad’s number?
The dot stops in the middle of the woodland—I’m close, so I slow down until the car comes to a halt. If they hear me or see me coming, they’ll drive off and it’ll be another chase. Plus, they might be hurting her.
I grab my gas mask from the backseat, slide it on, and take a deep breath before making my way quietly out of the car,gripping the screwdriver in my hand. Each footstep draws me closer, my breathing heavy within the confines of the mask.
I hide behind a tree when I see the black car. They’re still inside it, the window of the driver’s side down. I can hear Olivia screaming. It’s muffled, as if she’s got tape on her mouth.
Tensing my jaw and taking another deep breath, I go straight towards the car. The driver is on the phone, Olivia lying on the backseat with her wrists bound and rope around her face and in her mouth.
Without hesitation, as soon as I reach the driver’s side, I tighten my hand around the screwdriver and stab it into the asshole’s neck over and over again, blood splattering all over me as he chokes, each thrust sending more blood over my mask and coating the steering wheel and windows. Warm liquid spits at me as he tries to breathe, gasping like a slaughtered animal.
I jab the screwdriver into his jugular and yank it out then drive it into his fucking eye.
He’s dead already.
His head is hanging off, the flesh and butchered muscle keeping him from decapitation.
Motherfucker deserved worse. I should have taken him to the house and tortured him for even thinking he could take my girl.
Leaving him to slouch on the steering wheel while the soul drains from his body and soaks his leather seats in blood, I pull open the back door to find Olivia crying around the rope, screaming, a red mark under her eye.
That piece of shit hit her.
I’m too angry and losing it to speak. I can’t give her any comforting words. I tuck the screwdriver into my back pocket and go to her. She doesn’t question who I am. She knows. She saw this mask before when I took her and fucked her. A time I wish I’d dealt with differently, now that I know she could’ve eventually picked me, but I can’t take any of it back.
I untie her and pull her into my arms tight, holding her, never wanting to let go as my heart ricochets all over my damn body. Without her, there wouldn’t be any point in taking one more breath.
She cries into my shoulder—alive, here, with me. She’s with me. She doesn’t care that I’m covered in blood as she pushes the mask up and off my face and grabs my cheeks and kisses me.
Desperate. Each press of her lips is desperation—as if she’s trying to tell herself that this is all real and I’m here, in front of her, and she’s not being taken.
“Oh God,” she sobs. “He works for the Reznikov family. They… they tried to kidnap me. They’ll… they’ll try again.”
I shake my head, unable to talk or get my words out given how much adrenaline is rushing through me.
I won’t let them take her.
I can already feel the crimson staining my skin starting to dry. His blood is all over the car. Evidence of his murder. Fuck. I just killed him and haven’t got a single plan. I usually do this carefully. I make sure they can’t be found. I create a story. I have files upon files in my locked room of different strategies to remove someone from existence. But this… this is bad.
