Page 13 of He Is Ours (Lovers in Crossfire #2)

Chapter thirteen

Olivia

“I

love

you,

Alex.

I really do, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m going in with Oliver.

” My voice is steady, but my heart pounds like a war drum.

“I have to be his backup; we are twins; it's what we do. The Italians and the Starr brothers don’t know us; we will be in and out before you know it. We’ll have earpieces also; you’ll hear every move we make throughout the casino. ”

I search his face for understanding, trust, or maybe even permission. My heart and gut are at war, but I have to believe him. I have to trust that he’s on my side, at least right now. I do.

I want him. I want him more than anything. Rachel and Alex are my home, and deep down, I know that has never changed and never will.

Alex exhales sharply, his jaw clenching like he’s physically biting back his protest. “I don’t like this, but I hear you. Just…” He shakes his head, frustration and fear tangled in his expression. “I’m scared to lose you. So you better not die.” His laugh is nervous and humorless.

I force a small smirk, though my stomach twists. “I wouldn't dream of it.” I get up on my tippy toes and give him a quick peck on the lips. But deep down, I know that’s a promise I might not be able to keep.

I step back from him, peeling my body away from the warmth of his arms, the safety I desperately want to sink into. But I can’t. Not yet. I turn toward Oliver, rolling my shoulders as adrenaline starts to pump through me. “Alright, boss man. Let’s get this shit done.”

Finally, I’m not just surviving; I’m doing something. Something for my family. Both of them.

Oliver and I move through the grand entrance of the Silver Serpent as we belong here, our invisible earpieces linking us to Alex, Rachel, and the rest of Oliver’s team.

The casino hums with life – laughter, the clink of glasses, and the distant chime of a jackpot, followed by a cheer.

The air is thick with cigarette smoke and the scent of expensive cologne.

We drift through the tables, pausing just enough to look natural, watching, listening, and occasionally cheering on someone who just won.

And then, I see him. Sitting at a crescent-moon-shaped table in the bar, a man with sharp features and rigid posture, it’s like looking at Andrew, just older. However, it’s not; he's dead, according to Alex and Rachel.

Five men surround him. Italians. Chatting, laughing, drinking, acting as if they didn't just threaten Rachel… My Rachel…

“Oliver. Slightly to your left, a crescent-moon table. A guy with shaggy red hair, wearing a black suit, surrounded by Italians.”

Oliver doesn’t react immediately, but I feel the shift in his energy. A barely visible glance, his jaw tightening.

“One of the Starr brothers?” He whispered to me.

“Has to be. Looks just like Andrew, just cleaner and older.”

“Which one?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know, but does it matter?”

We walk over to a nearby table, pretending to play, as every sense is honed in on them. The way they lean in close, the way their voices drop when they talk.

Then, I hear a name that catches my attention.

They’re talking about Andrew. About his debt.

And then, Rachel’s name. “…use her as payment.” My blood turns to ice.

I grip the edge of the table, forcing my breath to stay calm, even though all I want to do is rip their fucking throats out. They want to trade my girl like she’s property. Like she’s nothing.

A predator’s rage awakens in me, dark and deadly. The memories of when I was held against my will and sold like property are at the forefront of my memory, causing the rage to deepen. My fists tighten under the table, nails digging into my palms until the pain grounds me. I can’t react, not yet.

But they will pay for this.

I swallow the fire in my throat and force my voice to stay steady. “Oliver. I can’t lose her.”

Oliver’s gaze flicks to me; I know he heard the fear in my voice. “You won’t. We’re just here for intel, nothing more. We don’t act on anything until we have a solid plan.”

I nod. Force me to focus. To listen.

Three more Starr brothers walk into the bar, followed by an Italian man.

Dark brown, almost black hair. Deep, piercing brown eyes that could kill with a look. Stubble lines his jaw, giving him an edge of ruggedness and confidence to top it off.

As soon as the Italian man enters, the air in the casino shifts. It’s not just me who notices. Oliver goes still beside me, his entire posture changing, his usual confidence replaced by something I can’t quite place.

Recognition? Fear?

I hear him suck in a sharp breath, almost inaudible, and my gut twists. I turn to look at him, my voice low. “Oliver.”

He doesn’t respond. His eyes are locked on the Italian, his expression unreadable. I glance between them a couple of times. The man walks with power, with the kind of quiet dominance that demands respect. He’s no ordinary associate. He’s someone important.

And Oliver…He knows him. I know he does. His fingers twitch at his side, his jaw tightens, and when he finally exhales, it’s slow. Measured.

Why is he acting like this?

“Oliver.” I try again, but a little sharper this time.

Finally, his eyes flick to mine, but there’s something in them I don’t like. A hesitation. A shadow.

And for the first time in my life, I don’t know what my twin is thinking. He’s hiding something. That realization slams into me like a punch to the gut.

And I don’t have time to unpack it. Oliver tears his gaze away and mutters, “Let’s leave.” His tone is final. No discussion. No explanation.

I swallow hard.

He’s my brother. My twin. I trust him, but do I really know everything about him? A question I don’t get to ask. Because right now, we have bigger problems. And whatever Oliver is hiding from me will have to wait.

I nod. It’s game time.

They want to threaten my woman? They have no fucking idea what I’m capable of.

No one has seen the crazy in me come out, but the Starr brothers are about to get an up-close-and-personal look at her.