There it was again, that cryptic look.
That vicious anger on his tongue.
I don’t understand.
“I tell you everything!” I yelled.
Grayson shoved his tongue into his cheek, looking away like I’d just fucking spat at him.
Behind us, West laughed. “Tell her the whole truth, Grayson. Even if you find the coin, there is no leaving Crowne Hall, is there?”
Grayson’s gaze shifted over my shoulder, murderous, but he doesn’t say no.
He doesn’t. Say. No.
Thirty-Eight
STORY
I had to get out of here. I was outside, but…there was no air. Grayson gripped my wrist, yanking me to him like he saw the words in my head.
I want your throat raw. I want it to hurt, so every time you speak, you feel the secrets you’re keeping from me.
“You hypocrite.” I pulled at my wrist. “I expect West to lie to me. But you? Does your throat hurt every time you speak, Grayson Crowne?”
He looked away. “It’s not as simple as West is making it seem.”
“Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me? You said you wanted honesty. Bloody. Raw. Jagged. Truth. You are a hypocrite, Grayson Crowne.”
I tugged and tugged on my wrist, but he wouldn’t let me go. Instead, he pulled me closer, blazing eyes looking down at me from his rigid nose. The square of his jaw somehow sharper.
Not fair.
That he was somehow more handsome when he’s hurt me so badly.
“It’s not that fucking simple,” he growled. “I have a plan B. That’s all.”
I could see my breath heating the cold night, but it wasn’t coming back.
Stolen.
“Plan B?” I gasped. “What do you mean plan B?”
“What if we don’t find it, Snitch? What if we find it and…” He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth.
In that moment, the puzzle pieces clicked together. I should have seen the signs. It was always there. In his sad eyes. In those cryptic comments. He wouldn’t risk me, he never could.
And this was only risk.
“Do you want us to stay?”
“No. Not us.”
“You would send me away—” I stumbled back, and he pulled me back to him by my wrist so hard I had to plant my palms on his chest for stability. “You would sacrifice yourself—”
“I would save you,” he cut me off, the intensity in his voice like gravel.
“I’m not going to stop fighting for this,” I whispered. “For us. For our freedom.”