CHAPTER 74: CHAPTER 73: OLIVER...I NEED TO CLEAR MY HEAD.

The phone slipped from Athena’s fingers, hitting the ground with a hollow crack that echoed far too loud.

For a second, she didn’t move.

Then her body trembled so subtly at first it looked like she was shivering from the cold. But there was no cold here. Just a sudden, choking silence.

Oliver blinked at her, confusion flickering into concern. "Athena?"

Athena’s breath hitched once, then again before everything around her began to tilt.

It was happening again.

Her chest tightened, her vision blurred. A sharp pain crawled up her spine as the world twisted into something she hadn’t seen in months. The vision.

The red nail paint.

The gleam of metal catching dim light.

The woman’s body straddling her father’s body, her face calm, almost smiling.

Then the knife plunging into his stomach again, again, again wet sounds filling the silence.

Blood soaked through the floor.

Her father’s eyes went glassy.

And that laugh, that terrible laugh it echoed through her skull like a curse that never stopped.

"Stop..." Athena gasped, pressing her hands to her ears. "Please stop...stop."

But the vision didn’t fade. It only grew sharper. It was so clear. So cruelly clear.

Her body shook uncontrollably as she stumbled backward, curling in on herself, tears streaking down her face. "No more...please...no more..."

"Athena!" Oliver’s voice broke through the air, but she wasn’t hearing him. She was trapped somewhere else, in the blood, the screaming, the laughter of a world that could only be seen by her.

He moved to her fast, grabbing her arms, trying to ground her, but she only shook harder, shaking her head over and over, her nails clawing at her temples as if she could dig the vision out.

"Don’t...touch...me!" she sobbed, her voice raw.

But Oliver didn’t let go. He pulled her into his chest, his voice firm but soft, desperate. "Athena, it’s me. It’s Oliver. Look at me, please."

Suddenly Oliver remembered, this same thing happened to her in her father’s room. Is she going through trauma?

She didn’t. Her head kept shaking, her breath sharp and uneven. Tears soaked through his shirt.

He cupped her face, forcing her trembling eyes toward him. "Athena...look at me."

For a heartbeat, she did.

And in that instant, the vision shattered...gone like smoke.

Her body went still, but her panic didn’t stop. Her breaths came out fast, uneven, each one trembling with fear.

Oliver brushed his thumb across her cheek, his voice breaking as he tried to hold her gaze.

"It’s okay. Whatever she told you...it’s not going to happen, okay? You’re safe with me. You’re safe."

But she couldn’t stop trembling.

Couldn’t stop hearing that laugh somewhere in the back of her mind.

No matter how tightly he held her she didn’t calm down.

Athena shook her head violently, her breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps as tears streamed down her face. "You don’t know her," she said between broken sobs. "I’m scared, Oliver. I don’t know what she’s going to do." Her words trembled so hard it was almost hard to understand her. Her chest rose and fell too fast, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Oliver’s arms tightened around her trembling body. He didn’t let her pull away no matter how much she tried. "Athena, look at me," he said firmly, his voice calm but edged with worry. She shook her head again, pressing her palms against her temples as though trying to block something out.

He called her name again, louder this time. "Athena!"

But she still didn’t listen, her breaths were getting shorter, her tears uncontrollable, her voice breaking as she tried to speak. "She won’t stop, Oliver, she won’t stop until she gets what she wants."

"Hey," he said, grabbing her face between his hands, forcing her to look at him. "Breathe. She’s not going to do anything."

Her gaze flickered up to him, pupils dilated, her lips trembling. "What if she hurts you?" she whispered, her voice cracking. "I can’t lose you, Oliver. I already lost Dad... I can’t...what if I lose you too?"

Her words broke something in him. Oliver brushed his thumb over her tear-stained cheek and cupped her face gently. "Hey, hey, look at me. Jianna isn’t a killer. She’s not going to do anything, Athena. She’s probably just angry...angry about how I spoke to her when she came to my office."

Athena froze.

Her tears slowed, her hands slowly falling to her lap. For a long second, she didn’t even breathe. Her eyes widened, her heart hammering against her ribs as her mind caught up with what he just said.

"What did you say?" she whispered, her voice hollow.

Oliver frowned. "What?"

Her throat tightened. "You said... when she came to your office?"

Oliver froze, his mouth parting slightly. He blinked, realizing what he had just said, realizing he’d slipped. Damn it. He hadn’t meant to tell her that, not like this.

"I..." he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice barely steady. "I..."

"Say something, Oliver," she snapped, her voice rising, brittle and broken. "Don’t you dare stand there and stay quiet."

He sighed, eyes flickering with guilt. "Jianna came to my office," he finally admitted. "She wanted to know why I let you into the room where your father’s belongings were kept."

Athena froze again. For a second, she just stared at him as if she hadn’t heard right. Then, her voice dropped to a whisper, thick with disbelief. "And you didn’t bother to tell me?"

Oliver’s jaw tightened. "I didn’t want you to worry, Athena. Your relationship with her is already bad enough, and I didn’t want to make it worse."

"Worse?" she cut him off, her eyes glistening as she took a shaky step toward him. "You don’t know what she’s capable of...Oliver! And you’re telling me you didn’t want me to worry?"

He reached out, but she stepped back immediately, her breathing quickening again. Her vision blurred, not from tears alone but from the flood of emotion crashing down inside her, anger, fear, and that haunting memory she couldn’t shake.

"Don’t," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Don’t come near me right now."

"Athena, please," Oliver said softly, moving toward her despite her warning. "I didn’t mean to hide it. I just thought.."

She cut him off again, louder this time. "Thought what? That it would go away? That she’d forget what she did? You don’t understand what extent that witch is going to go just to get what she wants."

Her voice cracked mid-sentence, and tears spilled freely down her cheeks. "Do you even know what could have happened, Oliver? Do you have any idea what she’s capable of when she’s angry? Fuck Oliver you talked back, challenged her."

Athena shut her eyes. It felt like she was going to die.

He lowered his gaze, his voice low, heavy. "I’m sorry."

"Don’t tell me you’re sorry," she said, shaking her head furiously, her hands trembling at her sides. "Sorry doesn’t fix the fact that you hid something like that from me. You should’ve told me the moment she showed up."

"I didn’t want to make things worse," he said again, quietly, almost pleading.

Her heart twisted painfully at the sound of his voice, but her anger burned through it. She turned sharply toward the door, her voice barely holding steady. "I can’t do this right now. I need air."

He took a step forward, but she spun around, her eyes red and sharp. "Don’t follow me," she warned, her voice cracking at the edges. "Please, Oliver. I just... I need to clear my head."

And with that, she turned and stormed out into the woods.

Oliver stood there in the silence that followed, staring at her retreating figure. His chest felt tight, his thoughts spinning. He hadn’t meant for this, hadn’t meant to hurt her, or to make her relive the ghosts she’d been running from.

What was jianna up to?

Now, watching Athena’s shadow fade beyond the glass door, he knew one thing for sure whatever was coming, it wasn’t over.

Athena wandered into the woods.

She didn’t even know how long she had been walking, only that every step felt heavier than the last. The silence between her and Oliver still hung over her like fog, thick and suffocating. But she was glad he didn’t follow. Right now, she needed to breathe. She needed space, air anything that wasn’t filled with the ache in her chest.

She kept walking.

The deeper she went, the darker it got. The trees pressed closer, their twisted arms reaching out like shadows waiting to pull her in. The soft light that once filtered through the leaves had vanished, swallowed whole by the creeping gloom. Even the air felt different here colder, still even like the woods were holding their breath.

Her slipper crunched against dead leaves, each sound too loud, echoing in the emptiness.

She slowed down, glancing over her shoulder. Nothing.

But still, she felt watched.