Normally, she wasn’t one to give up. But this situation was as far from normal as anything could be, and she was tired. So very tired.
Tired of trying to convince a grieving sociopath she hadn’t intentionally let his brother die. Tired of pretending to be strong, knowing all the while, she was crumbling with fear and pain inside.
Mostly, Olivia was tired of praying for a miracle that obviously wasn’t coming. She simply couldn’t do it anymore.
With what little strength she had left, Olivia lifted her head, and through swollen eyes, she stared straight into Cetro’s.
“You can keep hurting me...or you can kill me. It doesn’t matter. Nothing will bring...your brother...back. But if you’re so hell bent on...blaming someone...for his death...you should go look...in a mirror.”
She expected the comment to earn her another blow. Instead, she actually saw a brief flash of guilt. Unfortunately, it didn’t last long.
“How dare you blame me for Miguel’s death!” Cetro yelled, the veins in his forehead and neck bulging. “I raised that boy from the time he was just a toddler! I myself was barely a teenager. I gave him a home and food to eat. I taught him the ways of life!”
Olivia’s outrage gave her a shot of adrenaline, and her voice came out a touch stronger. “You taught him how to...become a criminal. Your brother’s blood...is on your hands...not mine.”
The man glared back at her, his jaw clenching just before he turned and marched toward the table again. Olivia saw him pick up a very large knife before walking back to her, his eyes completely void of emotion.
She knew with utter certainty, that knife meant her imminent death.
Cetro stood in front of her one last time. He didn’t say anything, just stared expectantly. As if he were giving her one final chance to confess her sins.
She’d said all she had to say, and refused to waste what breath she had left on the man about to murder her.
When she remained silent, he walked behind her. This was it. This was how she was going to die.
Regret filled her soul and tears escaped her swollen eyes as she silently prayed Jake would somehow find a way to move on from this.
Cetro’s hand grasped the back of her hair and pulled, so her neck jutted forward. Slowly, he pressed the knife’s blade against her delicate skin.
Olivia prayed he’d make it quick. She felt a small prick followed by something warm dripping down between her breasts.
Closing her eyes, she brought to mind her most treasured memory.
It was the night Jake first told her he loved her. They’d made love, then, and though every time she’d been with Jake had been incredible, that particular moment between them had felt so magically different from all the times before.
Olivia held on to those images with every last ounce of strength she had. If she was going to die, she wanted her last thought to be about the love of her life. The man of her dreams. She thought of nothing else but...
“Jake.”
His name was but a whisper. The single word a prayer that, even after everything, he would somehow know that she still loved him.
That, despite what she’d said to him, nothing would ever change that. Not even death.
“Ah, yes. Jake,” Cetro said from behind her. “The hero who saved you before. Too bad he won’t be able to save you this time.”
Surprising her, Cetro pulled the knife away from her neck as he continued to taunt her. With his mouth touching her earlobe, he asked, “What do you think he is doing this very moment? Hmm?”
A strange peace fell over Olivia as she waited for the end to come. She was hanging on by the barest of threads, each second pulling her further and further away.
She could still hear Cetro’s voice, but his words fell on her ears as if they were travelling through a very long tunnel.
Unable to fight it any longer, Olivia slipped away into the peaceful abyss, Jake’s beautiful, smiling face was the last thing passing through her mind.
****
Olivia’s scream stopped both Jake and Trevor in their tracks. As the echoes faded, Jake’s emotions hit him in rapid succession. Relief came first. If Olivia could scream, it meant she was still alive.
Next came the overpowering fear of not knowing what the bastard was doing to her. Finally, the ferocious need to find the sonofabitch and make him wish he’d never been born began to take over.
A hand on his shoulder and Trevor’s low voice was the only thing that kept him from forging ahead recklessly.
“McQueen! You with me?” Trevor whispered loudly.
Jake blinked, only then noticing his friend was standing directly in front of him, now.
Not waiting for his answer, Trevor added, “Olivia needs you to be clear-headed. I know this is personal, but this isn’t our first rodeo. You good?”
Jake swallowed. With a nod, he whispered back, “Let’s do this.”
After a quick check-in with the others, they continued toward the old barn. Trevor headed for the front as Jake made his way to the back.
As much as he hated to, Jake moved with slow, silent steps.
He could hear voices, barely able to make out what Cetro and Olivia were saying. A silent breath of relief escaped at the sound of her blessed voice.
She’d just said something about looking into a mirror. Her voice was strained and weak. Jake knew she was hurting, but—Thank you God!—at least she was still alive.
I’m coming sweetheart. Just a few seconds longer. I’m almost there.
He made his way around to the backside of the barn, where he silently moved through the opened doorway. Calling upon his years of training, he efficiently assessed the scene before him.
Cetro was standing in the middle of the barn’s open space. Olivia hanging by her wrists in front of him. Don’t fucking think about that now. Just get the job done.
The man had a fist full of Olivia’s hair and a knife to her throat. He was leaning down, talking
