Page 11 of The Deceptions
When I left Greenwood with burns on my body and a slit across my throat, I promised myself I'd never fucking come back. Why would I? My best friends betrayed me in the worst way possible because their foster father told them to. They stood over me as I begged for my fucking life and... they ended me. Now, I have to face them? Be back in their sights when all I want to do is fucking run and hide and never show my face here again.
Jonathan watches me sympathetically. "I know, Liv," he says softly.
But his voice doesn't break through the emotions clawing at my throat. It does nothing but make it worse.
How can he even pretend to know? Sure, he caught me when I was broken, put me back together, and gave me this life. But he wasn’t there to watch the demise of my family like I was.
"Olivia," he says, standing and stalking toward me. A heavy hand lands on my shoulders, attempting to ward my panic away. "I told you one day you'd have to face the hardest job of your career, right?"
I suck in a breath, trying to pull the oxygen into my burning lungs. "Yes," I croak through the panic.
"This will be your most difficult case yet. You'll be facing what no one else has faced within Veritas before. Their past."
"Why does it have to be me?" I whisper in defeat, exhaustion sweeping through me. "Why?"
I don't want to see them. I don't want to look into their eyes and know they're the monsters I left behind.
"I'll tell you the truth," he says, leveling me with a stern look. "You're the only one who can infiltrate his gang, Liv. You knowthe ins and outs of his operations. You were there. No one else can possibly predict his next moves. You can."
"I don't know shit about that!" I cry out, breaking his hold on me. "I don't know how he operates!” I throw my hands in the air, huffing.
"My brother worked side by side with him for years when the Viotto's turned their backs on him and forced him into alliances with Franco. You were there. You lived on the grounds. You watched your father."
"I watched my father do a lot of shit, Jonathan, like when he beat my mother to a pulp for talking. I watched my father lock me in the basement when I was an inconvenience. I watched my father put bars on my windows so I couldn't escape the hell he put me through. I watched him favor some strange kid over his own daughters. I watched him do a shit ton, but being by Franco's side was not one of them." My chest heaves by the end of my tirade, and I shake my head. "I don't know what my dad did with Franco or what plans they made for the future. Whatever it was, my dad screwed the fucking pooch and got us all murdered." Or at least, that’s the running theory I have. Why else would he disappear right before we all died?
"Except you," Jonathan says lightly.
"Yeah. And what good did that fucking do, huh?" I toss my arms in the air.
"You're such a strong woman, Liv. You've grown so much since the first time I saw you. I know this hurts. But you survived for a reason, and I think it was for this. To bring Franco down. Isn't that what you want? To put the man down that fucked your family over and eradicated you?” He rants, shaking his head with more emotion than I’ve ever seen cross his face.
He rarely shows what he’s feeling. Despite his words from earlier telling me that it’s okay to feel, Jonathan locks everything up tight behind the indifferent facade that he shows the world,because he has to. He doesn’t allow himself to get emotionally invested in our cases. It’s only facts with him and nothing more.
"You don't even know how much it hurts," I say, putting a hand on my chest and rubbing the ache festering beneath my flesh. "You're asking me to step into the lion's den with my murderers. And who is to say they won't recognize me? I haven't changed that much. No matter how much you remind me of my plastic surgery and skin grafts. I still have the scars of their betrayal lining my fucking face and the biggest one across my throat!” I shout, pointing to the various scars snaking across my cheek and neck. They are still raised, the ridges feeling like a giant wrinkle that refuses to be smoothed out, but they are no longer angry and red. Now they are a shade slightly darker than my skin, but still a prominent feature on my body. They let the world know I went through some bullshit and walked out the other side as someone new. “Besides, only men can get into Franco's gang.” Unless you're one of the wives or a hooker, there's no way they'll let me within ten feet of their organization.
"No. You're right," he says, taking a step back. All the emotions displayed before vanish into thin air like they were never twisting his expression. "Liv, I can't imagine how it feels to think about seeing them again. But we need you. The fate of Greenwood needs you. The people of this town need you. This is a heavy investigation, and you’re the only agent I trust with it.”
Fucking bastard. Fuck him. Fuck all of this. He can get on his knees and beg me to do this stupid case, but I won’t. I won’t walk the same grounds as the people who threw me away like trash.
I wipe my eyes, stepping back from the table and him. "Listen, I'm not feeling well. I'm going to go anywhere but here."
I only make it a step when Jonathan stops my retreat and squeezes my arm.
“Liv, they won't be able to recognize you,” he says, pulling my gaze to his. His eyes plead with me to hear him out. “Readyour cover story. Thoroughly, and we'll discuss this later. Okay? I'll give you time to process.” He steps back, eyeing me like I'm a wounded animal. Before I can process, he hands me the large manila envelope, thick with papers.
I don't bother with a response as I snatch the envelope and head into my room, slamming and locking the door behind me with a huff. Childish? Yeah. But I'm not feeling hospitable at the moment. I need this time for myself. To analyze what he's going to make me do.
Maybe I can run away. Change my name and identity. For real this time. Start over in a small cabin in the woods with three hunky mountain men who bend over backwards to make me happy.
Ah, the dream.
Reality crashes down on me again when I sit on the bed, rubbing my temple, and glaring at the envelope mocking me in my hand. If I open this, my fate will be sealed. There’s no going back or running away. If I leave it on the bed, sneak through the window, and hightail it out of here…
He thinks the boys won’t recognize me. That six feet of dirt and a headstone carved with my name is enough to erase the girl they permanently left behind.
That they won’t look into my eyes and see her.See me.The girl they betrayed without a backward glance. The one they left to bleed out while gasping their names with desperation and begging for mercy. The one they left behind in a house swallowed by fire, silencing me.
Forever.
