“Olivia!” I yell, my eyes darting frantically in every direction. I hop back in my truck and follow the path across the field, and that’s when I see something lying on the ground up ahead.
Coming to a stop again, I get out and walk closer. Pure fear grips my chest like a tight vise when I see it’s a bloody dress and tattered underwear.
What the fuck?
“Olivia!”
I start running, but have no fucking clue where I’m headed. I yell her name repeatedly, my voice hoarse. I spot a big oak tree at the back of the property and my swift feet falter. “Oh fuck!” Bile rises in my throat and my stomach recoils. It’s something I couldn’t even conjure up in my worst nightmare.
Liv tied to a tree, naked, and beaten.
I rush toward her, pulling out my pocketknife. I flip it open with a deafening click as I fall to my knees beside her. “Jesus, Liv, can you hear me?” My hand trembles as I quickly slice the rope, freeing her from the base of the tree. I try to swallow around the knot in my throat, searching for a pulse.
I exhale a breath of relief when I find the faint thrum of life beneath my fingers. Reaching for the mic attached to my shoulder, I bring it to my dry mouth.
“10-79 to dispatch.”
“Go ahead, 10-79.”
“I need an ambulance at the Old Wheeler property.” My voice cracks as I try to get the words out. “I’m at the south entrance.”
“10-4.”
“Hang on, Liv. Help’s comin’, baby.” I rip my uniform shirt off and cover her broken, battered body as much as I can. Then, before I can stop myself, I turn to the side and purge the contents of my stomach, knowing the image of her bound to this tree will be ingrained in my mind forever.
*
I called Walter on the way to the hospital, telling him to meet me. I didn’t go into detail, but I didn’t need to. He knew something was wrong when Liv didn’t make it home at her usual time.
Pacing back and forth in the lobby, rage pumps through my veins as I try to think about who could have done this. This obviously has to do with Jamal and the shooting, but why target Liv? Why not Walt? Unless this was their way at getting back at him, by hurting her.
Either way it will be their last fucking mistake.
My stomach twists into a tight knot when I see Walter rushing through the automatic door.
“Where is she?” he shouts, his voice filled with panic as his eyes shift everywhere until he sees me. “Where’s my granddaughter?”
I blow out a heavy breath and head toward him. “Walter, listen—”
He stops cold, his chest heaving as his eyes scan my body. “What the hell is all that?” He points at my chest. “Is that…her blood?”
I look down at my white undershirt to see it stained red.
Fuck.
“It’s hers, isn’t it?” he asks again, looking for confirmation.
“Walter, let’s take a seat.”
“I will not have a goddamn seat. I wanna see my Livy, and I want someone to tell me what the fuck happened to her, right now!” he bellows, his body quaking with anger.
Everyone swings their sympathetic eyes to us, three of the nurses crying. I stare back at him and search for the words to tell him. “Walt.” I start but trail off.
How the fuck do I tell him this?
“No,” he whispers, shaking his head in denial. “Please tell me they didn’t hurt her. Please tell me they didn’t hurt my baby, that this isn’t because of me.” His voice sounds as broken as he looks.
“I’m sorry.” It’s a weak attempt to ease his pain, but I know it doesn’t mean shit.
An intense fury flickers behind his eyes just before he loses all control. A loud roar rips from his throat as he charges past me, picking up a chair and throwing it against the wall. “Those fucking bastards! I’m gonna kill ’em.”
I slam into him and take him to the ground before he can tear the entire place apart. He struggles to get free. For an old man his strength takes me by surprise, but I quickly get the upper hand. “Listen to me!” I shout, pinning him down. “You need to hold it the fuck together for Liv’s sake. She needs you.”
He finally stills but his anger quickly turns to agony, and for the first time in my life I see a grown man break down. A tortured sob vibrating from his chest.
“Oh God, not my Livy. Not my sweet girl.”
My own throat burns like a motherfucker, but I grind my teeth and hold it together. “I swear, Walt, I’m going to find out who did this. I won’t fucking sleep until I do. Do you hear me?”
I mean every word I breathe.
They will fucking pay.
CHAPTER 8
Olivia
I stare out of my hospital room window, watching the sunset as the incessant beeping noise from the machines fill the silent room. It’s the first time I’ve been alone since waking up two days ago. Between Pap fussing over me every five seconds and Tania being a mother hen, I haven’t had much time to think about things—things I don’t remember.
I glance down at my hand, staring at my raw, battered wrist and swallow past the constant ache I’ve had in my throat since finding out what happened to me. I was beaten and violated, resulting in two broken ribs, a major concussion and a ruptured ovary that had to be removed, drastically lowering the chance for me to ever have children. The reality of it all is devastating and soul crushing.
And I don’t remember any of it but a few flashes of rough hands and a malicious voice that says words I will never forget.
This is for Jamal, bitch. Consider it justice served.
I close my eyes as the voice replays in my head. Other than that, I remember nothing. Everything else is blank. Something I’m mostly thankful for, other than the fact I don’t know who did this to me, so I can’t help the police find them.
A knock on the door pulls me from my depressing thoughts and opens a second later. I expect it to be Pap coming back with supper, so I’m surprised when I see Grayson walk in, holding a vase of lilies. My favorite flowers.
“Grayson,” I whisper, my shock evident. I haven’t seen him yet, and if I’m honest, I didn’t know if I would.
“Hey, Liv.” He greets me with his usual charming smile, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Is it okay to come in?”
I hesitate for only a second, hating for him to see me like this, but I don’t want to be rude, and honestly, I could use the company while I wait for Pap. “Yes, of course.”
He walks in and sets the vase of flowers down beside my bed. “Walter told me they’re your favorite.”
I smile softly. “They are. Thank you.”
He nods then pulls the chair up next to my bed and sits down. My breath hitches when he takes my hand, holding it between his own. Bracing his elbows on his knees he brings it to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to my cold fingers. The kind and gentle gesture has warmth flowing inside of me, something I haven’t felt since I woke up.
“How are you doing?” he asks, his voice gruff. Before I can answer he shakes his head. “Never mind, that’s a stupid question.”
It’s obvious he’s nervous and doesn’t know what to say. He’s not the first person to feel that way when they see me. “I’m doing okay, mostly tired. The pain medication they have me on makes me sleep a lot.”
“That’s not a bad thing, the more you rest the faster you’ll heal.”
“You sound like Pap.”
“I’ve been called worse,” he says, amusement lacing his words, bringing a smile to touch my lips.
Silence settles over us as his gaze roams over my face. I don’t miss the tick of his jaw and the fury flashing in his eyes.
“It looks worse than it feels.” I lie, hating to see the same pain in his eyes that I’ve seen in everyone else’s.
He releases a heavy breath and drops his forehead on our clasped hands. I swallow thickly, trying to find words to make it better. Seeing everyone hurt so much for me is almost as painful as the wounds I bear.