Chapter 153: Liam
Del and Oliver reached Beckley late.
The drive had taken hours. Long stretches of highway, gas stops that felt too quick and too exposed, silence that came and went in uneven waves. By the time Oliver pulled off the main road, the sky had already darkened, the brighter routes giving way to quieter mountain roads.
Del watched the surroundings change through the window. Buildings spaced farther apart, older, and worn down in a way that didn’t invite attention.
Oliver slowed the car and turned into a narrow lot just off a roadside stretch.
A flickering sign buzzed above them.
Harbor Rest Motel
The letters glowed unevenly, one of them dimmer than the others.
Del looked at it for a second longer.
Oliver parked near the edge of the lot, away from the few other cars scattered across the cracked pavement.
The place didn’t look like somewhere people stayed for long.
That was probably the point.
A diner was attached to the front of the motel. Inside, a few stools lined the counter, and a television played quietly in the corner, the volume low enough that it blended into the background.
Behind the counter stood a man who looked like he had been there all day. He looked younger; his skin was marked with old acne scars, his expression flat until he saw Oliver.
“Well,” the man said, a hint of recognition in his voice. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
Oliver just gave the man a nod. “Hey, Joel.”
Joel leaned forward slightly, looking him over. “You look different, Liam.”
“Been a while.”
Liam? Del felt it immediately. The name didn’t fit.
Joel’s eyes flicked to Del. “This your girl?”
Oliver stepped a little closer to her, his hand brushing her back.
“Yeah,” he said. “My girlfriend.”
Del forced a small, neutral expression.
Joel studied her for a second, then reached under the counter and pulled out a brass key. They gave it to Oliver. “The room’s just how you left it.”
Oliver gave a small nod. “Thanks.”
Joel leaned back again. “Don’t cause trouble.”
Oliver smirked faintly. “Never do.”
They didn’t go to the front rooms. Instead, he led her around the side of the building, past a narrow path that curved behind the motel. The lights were dimmer there, the ground uneven.
Behind the main structure, another building stood slightly apart. It looked like a garage at first glance.
Oliver unlocked the door and pushed it open. Inside, it wasn’t a garage. It was a small room, windowless except for a strip of darkened glass near the top. A bed sat against one wall, a small table beside it, a chair pushed into the corner.
Del stepped inside. Her legs felt heavy. She dropped her bag and sat on the edge of the bed, then leaned back without thinking. The mattress dipped under her weight. She didn’t move again.
Oliver closed the door behind them and moved immediately, dragging a stool over to the center of the room.
Del watched him from the bed. “What are you doing?”
“Give me a second.” He climbed up, reaching toward the ceiling.
For a moment, it looked like he was just feeling along the surface. Then a panel. He pushed it aside and reached inside. When his arm came back down, he held two guns.
Del sat up slightly. Her stomach tightened.
Oliver set them carefully on the table, then reached up again, pulling down a thick envelope. Inside was cash. A lot of it. He dropped it beside the guns and stepped down from the stool.
“We’re set,” he said.
Del stared at the table and still didn’t say anything.
Oliver stepped out briefly, leaving the door unlocked this time.
Del sat there, her eyes moving between the bed, the door, and the table.
The space felt too small.
He came back a few minutes later with a bag and a couple of takeout containers.
“Food,” he said.
Del nodded.
They ate on the bed. The food was warm, but she barely tasted it.
After a few bites, she looked at him.
“Who is he?”
Oliver glanced up. “Joel.”
“He called you Liam.”
“Old name,” he said. “From before.”
She studied him. “And he just gives you a room without asking anything.”
“He’s not exactly running a business you’d call legal.”
“What is he?”
“A smuggler.”
Del’s grip tightened slightly around the container in her hand.
“And you trust him.”
“I know him.”
“How.”
Oliver leaned back slightly. “A long time ago,” he said. “When I left college.”
Del frowned. “You ran away.”
“Something like that.” He hesitated for a moment, then continued. “His father was… not a good man. He was abusive to Joel. He was a rotten fruit, and I took care of him… for good.”
Del’s chest tightened. “You killed him.”
Oliver didn’t deny it and just shrugged. “He was hurting people,” he said. “I stopped it.”
Del didn’t argue. She just sat there.
Later, when they lay down, Del stayed near the edge of the bed at first, her body angled away from him. But exhaustion pulled at her again. Slowly, without meaning to, she drifted closer.
Oliver’s arm moved around her, settling across her waist.
She didn’t push it away.
Within minutes, they both fell asleep.
They were back on the road before sunrise. The sky was still pale when Oliver started the car. Del sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching the road stretch out ahead of them.
After a while, she spoke.
“Liam.”
Oliver glanced at her briefly.
“That’s your name.”
“It was.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
He kept his eyes on the road.
“That’s the name I was born with,” he said. “Before everything.”
“And Oliver?”
“That’s the one I chose.”
Oliver then nodded toward the glove compartment. “Open that.”
She hesitated, then reached forward and pulled it open. Inside were passports. Several of them. Her breath caught slightly as she picked one up. The photo was of her. But not her. Her hair was lighter. Her eyes were a different shade.
The name beneath it read: Bethany Lee Martin.
She flipped to the next.
Daniel John Martin.
She looked at him. “Siblings?”
Oliver smiled faintly. “People ask fewer questions if we’re siblings.”
Del stared at the photo again.
“You changed my eyes.”
“Contacts,” he said. “Blue suits you.”
She closed the passport slowly. “And this is it?”
“For now.”
She put it back carefully. “Where are we going.”
“Texas first,” Oliver said. “Presidio.”
“And then?”
“Mexico.”
Her chest tightened. “Why?”
“I have money there,” he said. “After that, Guatemala. Then El Salvador.”
Del went quiet while Oliver kept talking, as he could already see it.
“We stay there for a while. A year, maybe. Then we move again. Europe, maybe.” He glanced at her. “We’ll figure it out.”
Del looked out the window. For the first time, the reality settled in fully.
If they left the country, once they crossed that line, there would be no coming back.