Chapter 12

Olivia Bennett

J ohnathan’s fingers flew over the keyboard, his brow furrowed in concentration. The soft glow of the laptop screen illuminated his face in the dimly lit living room. I shifted on the couch, my nerves buzzing with anticipation. After we went over our undercover files together this morning we decided our next move should be to bug Liam’s apartment to see if we could catch any information.

“Alright, the bug’s ready to go,” Johnathan said, looking up at me. “You sure you’re up for this, Oli?”

I nodded, my jaw set with determination. “I'm the only one who can get into Liam’s apartment without raising suspicion.”

Johnathan’s eyes softened with concern. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I know,” I replied. “But we need this evidence. We gotta have something to give to Clemens or he’ll pull us back.”

He handed me the tiny recording bug, no bigger than my thumbnail, it was perfectly round. “Remember, find a spot near where he spends most of his time. Probably the living room, but don’t get to close to the TV.”

I slipped the device into my pocket, “Got it. I’ll head up now before my shift starts.” I slipped on my shoes quickly and grabbed my keys.

“If anything seems off—”

I cut him off. “I know, I know, abort mission.” I said as I walked out of the house. I made it to my car and hurried over to the haunted house. I didn’t see Liams car in the parking lot. Thank fuck. I parked and went inside. A few scare actors were running through their routine, but they would be easy to slip by. I assumed Derek was with Liam because he would normally be here by now. I made my way up the steps. The hallway was eerily quiet. I made it to the door and pulled out my lockpick set, my hands steady as I worked the tumblers. A soft click, and I was in.

I moved silently, scanning for the perfect hiding spot. Everything seemed to open, and then my eyes landed on the vintage Ouija board hanging on the wall behind the couch. It was a canvas style painting. I had an idea. I moved to the side of the couch and carefully took it down. I slipped the bug between the canvas and the wood, pushing on it a few times to make sure it wasn’t going anywhere before I placed the painting back on the wall ensuring it was perfectly straight before I readied to leave. I had been in and out in less than five minutes. Relief washed over me as I locked the door behind me. I’d crossed a line, but there was no going back now. Whatever Liam might be hiding, we’d find out soon enough.

Oh, Liam was definitely pissed off. I stole glances at him throughout the day, each one met with cold indifference. The air crackled with unspoken words, charged and ready to ignite with the slightest provocation.

We’d been playing this game of emotional chicken since the night he’d escorted me home, our conversations as dead as the props surrounding us. I couldn’t fathom what had caused the shift, but it ate at me, clawing away like sharp, insistent nails.

It had been a few days since I bugged his house, but Johnthan hadn’t caught anything out of the ordinary yet. I adjusted a skeleton's posture, its grin mocking me in the dim light. Footsteps echoed, and I knew without looking that Liam had returned.

“Looks good,” he said, though his tone matched the chill of the room.

“Thanks,” I muttered.

Liam moved past me, brushing against my arm. Sparks of energy zapped through my skin from the contact, unwanted yet undeniable. Our eyes met for a heartbeat, his gaze piercing through me. He looked away first, the message clear: keep your distance.

“Need help with that?” I asked, my voice betraying a hint of desperation to break through to him.

“No,” he replied curtly, already focused on a stack of boxes labeled “DO NOT TOUCH.” I noticed his knuckles were wrapped and scabby, as if he had been in a fist fight recently.

“What happened to your hands?” I asked, trying to make conversation, but he just met my gaze, his jaw ticking before he moved the boxes and turned away from me.

My frustration mounted like a balloon expanding in my chest. This silent treatment was childish and infuriating. And it had pushed me to my limit. I needed answers, clarity, anything to explain the ice that had replaced the warmth he’d given me before.

“Is there a problem, Liam?” I demanded, more to fill the void than to expect a truthful answer.

He paused, his back still turned to me. “No problem,” he said flatly, but his body language screamed otherwise.

“Then what is it? Did I do something wrong?” I pressed, refusing to be shut out.

“Drop it, Jade,” he warned, his tone final.

I opened my mouth to argue, but he cut me off with a look so sharp it could slice through bone. He returned to his work, the subject obviously closed, leaving me with nothing but the remnants of our non-conversation and a growing sense of dread for what the rest of the day would bring if I had to work with him like this a moment longer. I’d suffocate from the lack of oxygen in the room.

Derek’s footsteps approached behind me. “I’m heading out for a coffee run,” he announced, echoing slightly in the main foyer.

“Thanks, Derek,” I murmured, grateful for the interruption. As the door clicked shut behind him, I glanced across the room at Liam. I saw his shoulders tense and his stance go rigid.

“Okay, enough,” I blurted, unable to stand the silence any longer. My pulse thrummed in my ears as I waited for him to react.

He didn’t even turn around. “Enough what?” His voice was gruff, dismissive.

“Enough of whatever this is!” I snapped, tossing the box in my hands onto a nearby table. “What is your problem?”

Liam whirled to face me, frustration etched deep into the lines of his face. “You really don’t know?” He raised an eyebrow, disbelief clear in his tone.

“Enlighten me!” I shot back, my hands balling into fists at my sides.

He ran a hand through his hair, the gesture betraying his irritation. “It’s—it’s nothing.”

“Nothing? Really?” I pushed, stepping closer. “Because it feels like something . Tell me,” I persisted. I needed an answer.

He looked away, his jaw clenching. After a moment that stretched too long, he finally relented. “Fine,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You didn’t tell me you had a boyfriend.” Liam’s words hit me like a punch I hadn’t seen coming. Why did he care if I had a boyfriend? My heart stuttered in my chest, and a warmth I shouldn’t have felt spread through me. I’d been fighting it—this pull—but hearing him say that made something stir deeper.

We weren’t anything, just coworkers. We shouldn’t be anything more than that. But the way he was looking at me, like he was on the verge of admitting something he’d been holding back… it was messing with my head. I could feel the tension crackling between us, the unspoken need, but neither of us could afford to cross that line. We shouldn’t for so many reasons .

Still, my pulse quickened, and my thoughts tangled with confusion. Was it jealousy? Did he want me like I’d been wanting him, in the ways I’d been thinking of even though we both knew it was wrong? The frustration in his eyes said as much, but acting on it would only make things worse. Complicated on so many levels. Firstly, I shouldn’t want to fuck my boss. But secondly, I shouldn’t want to fuck my fake boss while I was undercover and investigating him as a possible serial killer. Just peachy, yeah, nothing complicated there at all. But that small, reckless, dark part of me couldn’t stop hoping. Maybe that was why his words stung—because I wanted him to care. I wanted him to crave me as much as I craved him. But I wouldn’t show it, instead I’d argue because the truth was a hard pill to swallow.

“How is my personal life any of your business?” My voice came out stronger than I felt, betraying all of my tangled-up thoughts.

There was a flicker of something indiscernible in his eyes before he masked it with that usual, cool detachment.

“Don’t do that,” he said, a note of warning threading through his voice.

“Do what?” I asked, my tone neutral. But fuck, he could read me better than anyone I’d ever met.

“Act like you haven’t felt it.” He gestured with his hand in the air. “This thing between us.” There was something like frustration—or was it resignation?—in his voice. “You know what? It’s fine. Whatever it is, it stops now. You are my employee,” he continued. “It shouldn’t go any further than that. I have to go. I’ll see you at Fright Night.”

And just like that, he began packing up his things, his movements efficient and sure, his decision made. But as he turned to leave, something rebelled within me. My voice broke the silence as he reached the threshold. “Liam.”

He didn’t stop, but I saw the slightest hitch in his step. It was enough to tell me he heard me, and for a moment, I wondered if I should say something at all.

The door groaned on its hinges, a low sound that seemed to vibrate through the stillness of the room. This was my only chance to say something if I was going to.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I called out. “He’s my brother.” Liam paused in the doorway. The muscles in his back, taut under the fabric of his shirt, shifted as if he were about to turn but hadn’t decided yet. I held my breath, waiting for something—anything—to break the moment.

“Doesn’t change a thing,” he said finally. The words were devoid of the warmth I’d grown used to. I blinked, the sting of his rejection sharper than I’d anticipated. The chill of the room seemed to seep into my bones, and I wrapped my arms around myself, seeking solace in my own embrace. I hadn’t felt small in a long time. He didn’t look back. Not once. The door closed with a soft click that sounded like the closing of a book—a story ending before it had ever truly begun. Why did it upset me? This was a good thing. I needed to stay away from him.

The room suddenly felt too large, the shadows too deep from the cold realization that whatever had been brewing between us was doused before it could ignite. In the silence that followed, I gathered my composure, straightened my posture, and focused on the next task at hand. There was work to be done, and personal feelings—no matter how potent—had no place here. Not now. Not ever.

Olivia Bennett didn’t crumble—especially not for a man.

So I took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and moved on to the next room. There was still plenty to do before the first Fright Night.