Page 38 of Undying Resilience

“And what about what Jordan will do to you? What if he decides to kill you? Please don’t do this. We can find another—”

“I’m not waiting any longer.”

“O, you just got back on your meds. You can’t—”

“Then I guess you’d better come get me before it’s time to take my next pill.”

“Oliver!” His voice breaks in the telltale way that means he’s close to tears. And fuck, I haven’t seen Elliot cry in a long time.

“I’ll be okay,” I say gently.

“You don’t know that,” he pleads. “You did this without any planning, and you’re by yourself, and what if the bracelet falls off or they take it away or the tracker stops working, and—”

“Ell, it’ll all work out.”

“Why does it have to be you?” he shouts.

“You never would’ve gone for this. And I don’t want Wren to have to be alone. Just get us out as soon as you can.”

“What if we can’t find you?” he whispers.

“You will. I trust you.”

“Oliver...” The terrified desperation in his voice has tears pricking in my own eyes.

“I love you,” I manage. “Please tell Rhett I love him, too.”

“Ol-”

I hang up and shove my phone in my pocket. This is the right thing to do. We need to get to Wren as quickly as we possibly can, and if Rhett and Elliot follow closely enough, they could rescue me and Wren within a matter of hours.

That’s what I try to tell myself, anyway. But Elliot’s distressed voice echoes in my mind, and even though I’m doing this for Wren, I can’t help but hate myself a little for how this will affect Elliot and Rhett. There’s no doubt that this is bringing up memories we’d all rather forget about.

I’m so lost in thought that when I feel the cold barrel of a gun pressing against the back of my head, I actually am taken off guard.

“Get on your knees,” a gruff voice says from behind me.

Slowly, I do, raising my hands in surrender.

He huffs. “You’re a fucking idiot, you know that?”

I laugh. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

Chapter twelve

Wren

The house is oddly quiet. A couple hours ago, I watched Jordan and two of his men pile into a car and leave. It has me wondering how many people are even here right now. I’ve been trying to keep track of the different voices I hear, and I’m pretty sure there’s only one man in the house—especially since I haven’t heard any type of conversation since Jordan left.

I’m still trapped in this stupid room, but with the element of surprise on my side, maybe I could manage to get the hell out of here. That is, if someone decides to check on me. Trying to break down the door would make too much noise, and whoever’s in the house would know exactly what’s going on.

But still, this is the best chance I have at escaping. I have to try something.

What would Elliot do?

Oliver has said on multiple occasions that I remind him of Elliot. He’s the thinker. The planner. The one who figures out the best way to navigate any type of situation, like a chess player who’s always thinking ten moves ahead.

I can do that, too. And I can find the strength—mental and physical—to make it out of this alive. I have to.

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