Always?

Chapter 5

When Oliver felt his phone buzz in his pocket, he paused, glaring at Cai. He scooped it out of his dark brown pants and stared at Max’s text with a scowl. His eyebrows shot up as he finished reading the text, and his scowl reappeared. Absolutely the f**k not. He looked up at the rest of them, realising all eyes were on him. “Deal with all of,” he hesitated, waving his hands in Cai’s direction, who was now wide awake and staring at them. “This, I need to deal with this shit.”

“What s**t?” Matt asked, c*****g his head.

“None of your f*****g business.”

“Oliver,” Damian warned, glaring at the man.

“What? It’s none of his business; if the others had asked, they’d get the same response.”

Oliver stormed out of the apartment, slamming the black door shut behind him. Once in the hall, he ensured the coast was clear before dialling a specific number and putting the phone to his ear. At the same time, he waited for the man to answer. He stared at the plain white hallways, the black doors with gold numbers on them and the black carpet.

The second he heard his phone call answered, his glare deepened. “Why the hell has Max texted me saying you’re going back to work?” he snapped, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was infuriating enough having to babysit the man at home, but his going to work was out of the question. He would not be an on-the-go babysitter. He had things of his own to f*****g work on.

“Surprise?” Atlas said. He could imagine the man shrugging with a smile and wanting to rip his fingernails off one by one.

“Don’t give me that s**t,” Oliver hissed, squeezing his free hand into a fight, digging his fingernails into his palms. When he realised the pain was grounding him, he continued.

“I’ve had a year off,” Atlas whined. “Don’t you think it’s time for me to return to work? Start earning my money?”

“No.”

“But-”

“I said no,” Oliver snapped, interrupting him. “You know the deal. Your going to work is not part of it. And you earned enough money while basically being a child slave to your mother in the past ten years. You have enough.”

Atlas cleared his throat, quiet for a moment before he said. “That’s why I want you to come with me. You could be my manager and my bodyguard.”

“Also no.”

“But-”

“No,” Oliver repeated. He could feel the warm blood trickling down his palm, and he paid it no mind. It was rounding him; the pain was reminding him he could feel something other than pure rage.

Atlas sighed. “Can we at least talk about this face to face?”

“No.”

He could imagine Atlas rolling his eyes at him, and the thought infuriated him further. “Mhm, I’ll be downstairs when you come. Stop by me first. We can talk.”

Oliver hung up. A few seconds later, a text came from Atlas, and he didn’t bother reading it. He turned his phone off and slid it into his coat pocket. He would not deal with Atlas being a pain in his ass on top of everything that would occur, with Cai currently bleeding out on the girl’s couch. This was the last thing he needed. He raked his hands through his faded hair, staring at the pale wall and exhaled. He unsunk his fingernails, looking at the mess, and he groaned. Great. Fiddling with his knives, he returned to the group, and although he tried to keep his anger contained, he knew he had failed when Matt stared at him with a frown.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he snapped a little too tightly as he went to the kitchen to run his bloody hand underwater. He grabbed some tissue and clenched his fist around it, praying it stopped the bleeding as he went over and sat on the coffee table in front of Cai. “What’s he said?” he asked, nodding to the man staring at him questioningly.

“They don’t know he exists. He was their Jack,” Alice said, frowning a little. She had taken her hair out of the towel, which was now discarded on the coat rack, and her dark hair was tangled on her shoulders, dripping water stains down her shirt.

“Jack?” he scowled. “What the hell is a Jack.”

“Jack’s have been cropping up more. In the morgue and in the hospital,” Damian said, frowning slightly. “They do a little bit of everything, a jack of all trades. Because of how useful they are, people would at first show them off, but now, with how many are dying, they keep them under wraps. Only the people on a need-to-know basis know of their existence within the group.”

“So, what are his trades?”

“Oh, I can answer this one, considering I am right here, and you all are acting like I’m not. I do tech, weapons, intel, bombs, cars, poison and combat. Those are what I can do,” Cai said, nodding as he stared at the gun Alice still had pointed at him. The rest had, somewhere along the way, put all of their weapons away.

Oliver licked his lips, frowning as he continued spinning his knives around in his hand, trying to calm down.

“So, what do we do with him?” Alice asked.

Oliver caught his knives by the handle and looked up at them hopefully. “Kill?”

“No,” Alec said, clearing his throat as he shifted a little, crossing his arms over his black leather jacket. “No, we make use out of him. We need someone on tech and intel, and usually, it’s one of the ones who now stay at home, but having one on the field with us would be smart. Plus, he can be the getaway driver. He’s good with cars so that he could modify one for us.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Cai asked, scowling.

“No,” Oliver deadpanned. “Shut up and sit still.”

“So, making use of him is the way we go. We need to take him back and introduce him to the other two,” Amber said softly, nodding.

“I also need to threaten him that what he sees will not be leaked.”

“Sure,” Damian said, sighing as he waved his hands at Oliver.

“Oh, not here. I’m going to take my time with it.”

“Right, and speaking of the others, you haven’t told A- the oldest one about any of this, have you?” Damian asked, staring at the group with a frown.

“Not yet.”

“Yet?”

“Oh, it’s bound to come out,” Matt replied. “You know it is.”

Damian sighed, exasperated. “Great.”

~*~