Page 88 of Lovely Darkness

He mindfucked her.

And that cure she talks about, that was him too.

What did he do to her that she needs a cure?

He must feel my gaze because his eyes dart up to the rear-view mirror and lock with mine. He wants to ask me a question, but he doesn’t.

Does he feel Carter?

Does he know how close Carter is?

How close Carter has always been?

No.

Nick doesn’t.

He doesn’t even care.

“He doesn’t even care. That’s why you’re in control here, Indie.” Carter is whispering to me again. “You know I’m right. I’m always right. Say it, Indie. Say it.”

And I do.

“You’re always right.”

CHAPTER TWENTY - MERC

We’re eating spaghetti and meatballs at the kitchen bar. Apparently, it’s an Old Home favorite and Maggie was in charge of tonight’s menu. She and Sasha are sitting at bar stools and I’m standing up on the other side of the massive kitchen island, just shoveling that shit into my mouth as I think about all the bad, bad things that are gonna come out of my little impromptu desire to work again.

I should’ve left it alone. I should’ve just…

Just what? Kept on pretending?

If Nick is right—and let’s be clear here, Nick isn’t anyone you dismiss. Even if the dude came to me with an even crazier idea than the one he just presented an hour ago, I’d listen to him. He’s deep inside. Like… Central American drug-lord deep. So if he’s right, then I’ve been living in a state of…

I close my eyes and drop my head, sighing.

They got to me.

They got inside my head somehow.

They made me believe things.

And I should’ve known better.

But who did this?

Because Garrett is dead, Nick didn’t know about it, and I certainly didn’t mindfuck myself.

My eyes involuntarily wander to the far end of the connected family room. But I’m not looking at the built-in bookshelves or the massive TV mounted over the fireplace. I’m trying to see through walls. I’m trying to see Donovan.

Did he get to me?

And if not him, who?

If Nick was a secret PSYOPS agent, then isn’t it possible there are more? Maybe even a lot more?

And then this sick thought trickles into my mind—what if… what if I’m in the PSYOP?