Page 55 of The Deceptions

My eyes squeeze shut at the numbers etched on his chest, surrounded by daisies–my favorite flowers. A tattoo that wasn’t there before. Something new. Something damning that has my stomach turning and knots forming over my aching heart.

2-2-4.

“Today. Tomorrow. Forever,” I murmur aloud through a choked, rage-filled sob.

The number is everywhere when it comes to him. My gravestone. His chest. It’s like it meant something to him, but it didn’t. There’s no way it could have after everything was said and done. Not after they fucking killed me.

2-2-4 was once a number we said, on repeat. A promise. It was us against the damn world. Today. Tomorrow. Forever and always.

But now it means jack shit. It’s just a number followed by 225. No meaning behind it. No love or pretty words to invoke any sort of feelings.

Or it shouldn’t.

It shouldn’t have knives plunging through my chest and tears on my lashes. But it does. And I can’t let it anymore. I grieved this already. For five long years, I’ve thrown myself into work and recovery, getting over their betrayal.

Or so I thought.

Being back in Greenwood feels like I’ve taken a thousand steps backward, and I’m right where I was the day I watched my funeral.

In the fucking ashes of my life.

“You’re alive. You’re taking them down. You’re free,” I murmur to myself and clear my head from all the static, filling it relentlessly. “But now, you have a job to start.”

With that sentiment, I shake myself out of the morbid feelings and focus on Mack standing beside him in the picture. He’s a job. Not an old friend who hurt me and betrayed me. A job. A person who needs to go down for their crimes and be punished.

Macklyn Owens. AKA Mack. Doesn’t have as many tattoos lining his flesh, but they’re still there. On his arms. Hands. Shoulders. And slightly on his chest. Not as personal as Huxley’s. No meaningful numbers or objects special to what we had stand out.

In the background of the photos stands JJ. AKA–Jasper Jeremiah Jones. With his hands in his pockets and his eyes focused on the winners in the circle. He takes it all in with his large, expressive eyes. Always the observer. Never the provoker. Peace was always the mantra he lived by, never wanting to ruffle feathers. But he was quick to stand up for what was right—taking injustices seriously. Well, back then, anyway. I’m sure Franco has sunk his claws deep into JJ by now, hoping he and the other two will step up once college concludes.

Swiping through several more photos, I take in the scenery of the building. And then it hits me. Pictures of the venue.

“Dude, I found this place, isn’t it cool as fuck?” Mack grins, bouncing on his toes. “I call it TheColiseum. You know, like that place in Rome, but with a different spelling. Look at all the stones.” He points to the crumbling concrete littering the thick forest floor.

Hux blinks, his jaw opening wide.

JJ’s brows furrow as his neck cranes back, staring at the massive structure.

“What is this place?” I murmur, moving forward in awe.

“I bet it’s only visible from the sea,” JJ says thoughtfully, peering around the edge of the rounded structure and viewing the massive ocean below the cliff.

“Who do you think built this?” I swallow hard, following JJ to view the massive waves slamming into the rocks below. If I took ten more steps, I’d slip off the edge of the cliff and fall in.

“I’m surprised it hasn’t fallen over.” Hux rubs his chin, staring it down. “It doesn’t look safe.”

“This was in Captain Greenwood’s log!” Mack excitedly exclaims, pulling up an article on his phone. “See? It’s a sign his treasure is somewhere near here.” He clears his throat, scrolling. “Through the sea and rocks, a structure hides within the vines and above the caves. X marks the spot.” He grins, showing us the new piece of information. “The treasure has to be here!”

Hux nods. “It could be. But don’t you think someone has been here already?”

Mack frowns, shoving his phone away. “They could have been,” he shrugs, casting his eyes toward the dirt. “Doesn’t matter, I’m going inside anyway.” He turns on his heels and darts inside the massive structure with a huff.

“You pissed in his Cheerios,” JJ murmurs.

“Someone needs to,” Hux scoffs angrily. “There’s no treasure. Someone found that gold a long time ago.” His eyes roll toward the blue sky, gracing us with a beautiful day to explore the woods near our home.

“Rude,” I quip, slapping him on the shoulder. “Now, let’s go exploring.”

We explored the space for multiple weeks, taking in the crumbling rock seats, hidden passageways, and dirt floors, never giving up on finding the treasure we were seeking. Something was planted here many moons ago when Captain John Greenwood, a pirate on the high seas, stumbled here after an accident, fleeing from the authorities.