Chapter Twenty-five

Oliver

A familiar sickening sensation hit me as a thick metallic odor consumed me. I cupped my nose and mouth with my hand, trying to block some of the foul stench as I slowly crept towards August’s body. I crouched down beside him and nudged his arm with the toe of my boot.

“August? Are you still with me?” I asked; even though I knew the answer, he was as dead as a doorknob. Here I was talking to the corpse of a man who hated me.

Of course, he didn’t answer me. I watched his chest in silence, searching for any trace of breathing. I blew out a ragged breath into my palm before reaching up to his face with my other hand and pushing his eyelids closed. I stayed there by his side for a few moments before I got back to my feet.

I grabbed a burlap sack from the ground and was able to partially cover August’s body with it. It wasn’t much, but it would obscure the view if some poor, unsuspecting person were to stumble upon his