10. Oliver

Chapter 10

Oliver

His Isobel

“ W ell, then you tell her. The full truth, not the half-assed version. She can handle it.”

Oliver didn’t particularly like being told what to do, especially not by Emilio, but he was exhausted and didn’t feel like arguing with him.

Oliver let out a calming breath.

None of this was going according to plan .

It was still dark outside, but not for much longer. They had eaten the night away with bullshit after more bullshit.

Oliver flexed his hands, looking down at his wrists. They hadn’t scarred, but he could still feel the ropes from all those years ago, could hear Camila’s screams.

It was the moment that had finally detached him from this reality. After years of attempting, of trying to be normal, witnessing the cruelties they dealt her was the last nail in his dead heart.

“When I was 16, I had a very good friend. Camila. She was Emilio’s older sister. And without meaning to, I led her to her death. My father, along with two other men, tied me to a chair while they took their turns raping her. Each man fired a shot when they were done. Killing her. And that is where Emilio found me. Tied to a chair with his dead sister rolled up in a rug at my feet. ”

Isobel gasped, and Oliver felt as she leaned against him.

He looked down at her offering a smile, but it was in that moment he realized she wasn’t wearing his shirt anymore. Oliver clenched his fists as a million scenarios of what had happened to her rolled through his brain. He had barely processed that he had to share her with Maddox. And now Emilio too?

She was meant to be his.

“Fuck man,” Maddox grunted from the other side of Isobel, pulling him out of his spiral.

Oliver hadn’t told this story to anyone.

“Due to my father’s choices, Emilio and I agreed that he couldn’t be in a position of power in this town anymore and when all was said and done after the fact, Emilio and I strung him up in the church. The official cause of death was suicide. The other two men had too many connections, we couldn’t hurt them.”

The irony of the mayor’s death being less important was not lost on Oliver. His father had been larger than life. An abusive asshole that wanted more than he deserved.

Oliver didn’t miss him. Didn’t regret killing him. If anything, he wished he had done it sooner. Before Camila was murdered.

He took a few calming breaths focusing on Isobel’s heat, the warmth of her skin. She was okay, she was alive, she was breathing. She didn’t appear to be in distress. If anything, she seemed to be at peace. Or as much as she could be considering the story he was telling.

“This town was owned by two families. The Castillos”–he gestured to Emilio–“and the Yorks.”

Isobel stiffened beside him, but he plowed ahead, filing it away in the endless questions he wished to ask her .

“That night when Camila was murdered, a third family was pulled into the fray. It was a necessity to secure my father’s support. To show who would win if it came down to it.” Oliver had played this conversation out in his head, a thousand different scenarios, each one with a different outcome. “That family was the Landons.”

He had never expected Isobel to headbutt him with all her might. His eclectic Isobel never ceased to surprise him. It was why he loved her.

Maddox and Emilio started yelling over each other to admonish Isobel for injuring herself. Oliver didn’t even bother, he knew she wouldn’t listen.

Knew his words had upset her past her breaking point. Knew that the news of what he shared would not be taken well. Knew she needed to let some of it out, even if it was on him. Even if it hurt her a little.

“The Landons? My step-father? You fucking asshole! Why didn’t you tell me?” she screeched, rubbing her forehead.