Broken Truths (The Frayed Trilogy 2)

Maybe I should be chasing after Grace. Demand the answers I want straight from her lips. Only as much as I can’t trust that she would tell the truth, I trust myself less. The look on her face when she told me why she didn’t warn me about my parents is burned into the forefront of my mind. Could that have been true? The leather journal creaks beneath my fingers with the thought of her being hurt.Beaten.

Fuck.

No. If I went after Grace right now, I don’t trust myself not to look into her dark teary eyes and not believe what she says. Maybe that makes me fucking weak, but I’ve held her as she cried into my chest after a nightmare. I’ve seen her slowly come out of the shell the abuse she suffered trapped her in.

I need answers, but at this moment, it seems my best option might be the black book I found hidden under her pillow.

My phone rings again, but I ignore it. When it rings a third time, I rip the thing out of my pocket, catching sight of Easton’s name before answering the damn thing.

“What?” I snap into the phone. I haven’t spoken to Easton since Saturday night when he walked out on me at Obsidian. I still have no idea what the hell is going on with him, but after what just happened with Grace, he’s lucky I’m answering at all.

“We have a problem… a big fucking problem,” Easton says, ignoring my tone.

Fuck me. What else can go wrong tonight?

“The Moreland shipment is missing.”

“What the fuck do you mean it’smissing?” The Morelands run arguably the biggest drug operation in the state. I didn’t know all the ins and outs or what kind of arrangement they had with Lucas, nor did I care to. What I did know is they were clients of my father long before I started working with him. At best, a fuck-up like this would ruin any trust I had gained since taking over. Regardless of whether I was directly responsible, it would fall on me.

“I mean, it’s fucking missing. The container never arrived.”

Fuck.“Do they know?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “All they know is there’s a delay with the shipment, but it’s not going to buy us much time. They’re pissed.”

I bet they’re fucking pissed. It’s not unusual for their shipments to be worth close to half a billion dollars. “Shit, I’ll be there soon. Are you still at the docks?”

“No, I’m sitting at a fucking bar,” he snaps at me.

“I’m not in the fucking mood, Easton,” I say, barely holding on by a thread. “I’m leaving now.” I hang up before he can respond.

Still clutching the journal, I leave the room I’ve been sharing with Grace for three weeks.Our room.

As I pass by the kitchen downstairs, Grace’s camera sitting on the island bench catches my eye, and my feet falter. My gaze gravitates across the large kitchen to the glass doors leading outside and the dark night beyond. I could try to tell myself that Grace is somewhere in the house—safe and sound in one of the many rooms—but I know it’d be a lie. Shadow’s whine from the front door only confirms it.

Shit. I shouldn’t have let her leave.

As much as I need distance from her, I shouldn’t have fucking let her walk out of the house. I pull my phone out of my pocket and pull up Grace’s contact, letting my finger hover over the call icon. My fingers tighten around the leather journal, and I exit out of my contacts—instead, opening the app that should let me track her phone.

A few seconds later, a red dot appears on the map. It’s moving away from the house— fast enough that she’s likely in a car. Fuck.

What if she didn’t get in the car willingly?

Heading straight for the front door, I barely take my eyes off the red dot. Shadow runs down the front hall towards me, circling around me before running back to the front door and letting out another whine. I stop partway down the hallway before opening the door to the attached garage.

“Stay,” I tell Shadow when he tries to follow me out. He does as he’s told, but he barks on the other side once the door’s closed.

Grace’s journal lands with a soft thud when I throw it onto the passenger seat as I’m getting into the car.

Instead of heading straight for the docks like I should, I punch the gas, following the red dot on my phone as it heads towards the city. By the time I get to the city, I’ve closed enough distance between us that I should only be a few cars behind her. I’m just deciding how I can cut them off when the dot stops moving.

“Fuck.”

The car behind me blasts its horn as I swerve into a park at the last second. A glance at my phone shows I’m in front of whoever the fuck she’s with, so I look over my shoulder as my hand finds the handle. Although before I can open the door fully, Grace appears on the sidewalk. Alone. I pause my movements—the pit in my stomach loosening a little at the knowledge no one seems to be hurting her. It takes me a second to realise where we are, and I have half a mind to get her and drag her back to me so I can deal with her later, but another glance at the black journal sitting on the passenger seat stops me.

I let her walk into the apartment building, calling Mason as I watch through my rearview and side mirrors. He’s meant to be finished for the night. He already stayed back to take Grace to her photography class, but I can’t delay meeting up with Easton, not with whose shipment is missing and what’s at stake.

It doesn’t take long for Mason to arrive. As soon as I see his car park across the street, I take off. I try to convince myself it’s to make sure she doesn’t run again before I get answers, but I know it has more to do with keeping her safe.

Even though it feels like she stabbed me in the chest, the thought of something happening to her makes the wound bleed more profusely than any knife could.