Page 89 of Enigma

“This feels like exactly the kind of trap we’ve been walking into from the beginning. You go in there alone, and we may never see you again.”

“Maybe. But if I don’t go, Tevin, Trick, and Nova are going to die. And your father . . . if he’s still alive.” Olive swallowed hard before meeting Jason’s eyes. “I can’t live with that choice.”

Jason’s jaw tightened with frustration. “Olive, we need to talk. About us, about everything that’s happened between us.”

“When this is over,” Olive promised.

“You keep saying that, but what if there isn’t an ‘after’ this time?” Jason’s voice carried all the hurt and fear he’d been holding back. “What if this is it?”

Olive’s throat tightened as emotion rose in her. “Then I need you to know that I understand my actions have hurt you, and I’m sorry. I made decisions based on fear instead of trust, and that wasn’t fair to you.”

“Olive—”

“Thirty-eight minutes,” Mitzi called. “We need to go.”

Olive exchanged a long look with Jason, unspoken conversations lingering between them.

She had to believe she would get through this. That they could finish this conversation later.

But she knew how risky this was. There were no guarantees.

They drove to a gas station a half mile from the meeting location.

Olive dropped Jason and Mitzi off. They would come closer by foot, and Olive would drive to 2847 Oak Ridge Road alone, just as instructed.

“Be careful,” Mitzi said, a pensive expression on her face.

Olive nodded, hating how somber she felt. “I will be.”

“Rex has guys on the way,” Mitzi continued. “Some of them will meet us here. The rest are heading to the trafficking operation.”

Before she drove away, Jason caught her hand through the open window. “Whatever that woman tells you, whatever she claims about your family or your past, remember that she’s someone who’s been willing to hurt innocent people to protect her secrets.”

She heard the subtext of his words: Everything she says will be calculated to serve her purposes.

With one more glance at Jason, Olive pulled away from the gas station.

As she drove through the dark Texas countryside toward what might be her final confrontation with the truth about her family, Olive found herself doing something she’d been doing more and more often lately.

She prayed.

At times, she wasn’t even sure she believed in prayer anymore. Any semblance of faith had been shattered along with everything else the night her family died. But now, alone in the dark with her friends’ lives hanging in the balance, she found herself wanting to believe in God more than ever before.

“Please,” she whispered. “Let me find my friends alive. Let me bring them home. And if there’s any chance that the woman I’m about to meet really is my mother . . . please help me understand why she let me believe she was dead for eight years.”

The GPS announced she’d reached her destination. Ahead, she saw a small house set back from the road, with a single light glowing in the front window.

Olive took a deep breath and wondered what answers—or dangers—awaited her inside.

Olive stared at the house. It was smaller than she’d expected—a modest cottage with peeling paint and overgrown landscaping.

The single light in the front window cast a warm glow that seemed deliberately welcoming, though Olive’s instincts screamed that this was anything but safe.

After one more moment of hesitation, she knocked on the front door and waited. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

When the door opened, Olive found herself face-to-face with a woman in her late fifties with graying brown hair and features that were achingly familiar.

Could this be her mom? Had she simply aged in the eight years since Olive had last seen her?