Chapter 547

Olivia

After what felt like an eternity, the boat finally broke through the storm and pulled up against the dock with a jolt. I lifted my head from where I had it tucked into my knees, shivering against the cold and the wind and the rain.

Finally, we had made it. But it was so late now—a quick glance at my phone, indicating that it was well past midnight and I still hadn’t received any word from Nathan, sent my heart pounding. I needed to hurry.

I released my psychic hold on Eleanor, the power of Suggestion draining from her eyes. Standing, I felt my weak legs wobble beneath me.

Hours of holding someone in Suggestion was far more than I had ever trained for, and I had managed to keep myself awake by conserving my energy throughout the ordeal, but now I was paying the price for it.

The old woman blinked rapidly once I released her, looking around in a daze. “What...? How did we get back here?” she croaked, her hands shaking and her hair soaked with rain.

I didn’t give her a chance to fully collect herself. Pulling a wad of cash from my pocket, I pressed it into her palm along with a pen.

“Take this money and get yourself a hotel for a night,” I told her firmly, scribbling my phone number across her weathered hand. “And if whoever hired you gives you any trouble after this, call me or my husband Nathan immediately. We’ll handle it for you, I promise.”

Eleanor’s brow furrowed as she stared down at the cash, but she gave a small nod. “My son… Jon, he’s…”

“He’s tied up in the cabin, unharmed,” I assured her. Our eyes met and I tried to soften my expression. “I had to tie him up. I’m sorry that I had to restrain him like that, but I had no choice. You understand, don’t you?”

She seemed to consider my words carefully before giving another nod.

Smart woman—she knew better than to press her luck against someone who could command her with a few words. Although, my powers had been completely sapped by now and wouldn’t regenerate until at least one good night of sleep, but she didn’t know that.

With that, I turned and leapt off the boat, splashing down onto the dock. My legs shook beneath me, but I didn’t slow down; and I didn’t look back as I took off at a sprint toward the nearby tree line.

It was at least a half mile hike through the dense forest to reach the town. Once I made my way out of the trees, I quickly pulled up my hood and began traversing the narrow streets. Thankfully, it was a quiet night now that it was so late, but I kept my identity concealed just to be safe.

Soon enough, after countless twists and turns through the winding streets, I managed to find it on my memory alone: the safehouse. It would be my first stop, where, hopefully, the escorts would still be waiting. Maybe they could give me some information or help me in some way, or at least offer a change of clothes out of these soaked once.

However, my stomach dropped like a stone in a pond as I rounded the corner and saw the entrance—the door was hanging wide open, the windows shattered.

“No...no, no, no…” I muttered under my breath, stumbling up the creaky steps. I burst through the door, and clapped my hand over my mouth.

The place had been utterly ransacked. Furniture had been overturned, belongings had been strewn about. And no sign of Mira or the girls anywhere. Thankfully, there was no blood; but they were all gone. And they clearly hadn’t left of their own accord.

White-hot rage flared up inside me and I slammed my fist against the splintered door frame. “Dammit!” I hissed through my gritted teeth. After everything we had risked to get them to safety, they had been whisked away just like that…

And by who? Dan? How could he have even known that we had come here?

I stood there in the doorway, pondering what to do next. My only other option, really, was to make my way where the ball was being held—it was probably still in session and would be for some time—and try to find Nathan.

But it was as I stood there that I heard it: a soft voice coming from the shadows behind the door.

“Olivia…”

I whipped around, my eyes widening as I saw her. Mira stood behind the half-broken door, her face streaked with tears and smudged makeup. Relief washed over me and I rushed toward her, throwing my arms around her trembling frame even though I barely knew her.

“Mira! You’re alive, oh thank god…”

“You shouldn’t have come,” she whispered so softly in my ear that I could barely even make it out.

My brow furrowed, and I narrowed my eyes, clutching her even tighter. “Mira, what are you—”

“You shouldn’t have come,” she half-whispered, half-choked. “Olivia, it’s too dangerous…”

“Mira…”

My voice trailed off, then, as the bedroom door creaked open and out stepped four tall, burly men, dressed head-to-toe in black fatigues.

My blood turned to ice as they slowly fanned out, blocking any exit.

I stiffened, releasing Mira from my arms and taking a step back. My hand shook as I raised it, willing any droplet of energy to allow me to send a shockwave out; but there was none. I had used it all.

“Wh-Who are you?” I said, trying—and failing miserably—to keep my voice steady.

The men didn’t answer. Of course they didn’t; why would they? I was just another sheep lining up for slaughter. Then, one of the men raised some kind of baton, taking a menacing step toward me. My body tensed, ready to burst into motion at a moment’s notice—

“Don’t!” Mira’s voice cracked, her trembling hand clutching my arm. “Please, Olivia… don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

I stared at her in disbelief, realization crashing over me like a ton of bricks. Slowly, I clenched my hands into fists at my sides as I turned my head to glare at her.

“You…” I could barely choke out the words, my throat constricting with hurt and rage. “You’ve been working for them? Has it been all this time?”

Mira averted her gaze, unable to meet my eyes as more tears rolled down her cheeks. “I didn’t have a choice,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “They were going to kill the other girls if I didn’t comply.”

Suddenly, one of the men grabbed Mira by the arm, his other hand holding that dreaded baton at the ready.

“Alright, that’s enough outta you,” he growled, giving her a rough shove away from me. Her frail body hit the wall and she gasped, sliding down to the floor. It was only then that I saw the red, sticky blood trickling down her arm in a strange pattern.

Someone had carved a brand into her skin: a large, crooked ‘M’. She had never been free, and someone had made sure that she would never make the mistake of thinking that ever again.