51. GRAYSON
51
GRAYSON
“As you can see, she works with Vosch.” Daniel’s voice rumbled through the phone with an undercurrent of impatience, mixed with pity.
I stared at my laptop screen, my chest constricting, mind reeling, desperately searching for an explanation, a glimmer of hope that this was all a terrible mistake. Ivy couldn’t possibly be the same person in these damning files. There had to be another explanation, a cruel twist of fate that had led to this devastating mix-up.
As I scrolled through the evidence, though, each photograph and document became a dagger twisting in my gut.
“I’m sorry, Grayson.”
“This has to be some kind of mistake,” I muttered, my voice tight.
“I wish it was. People like her are very skilled at hiding who they really are.”
This was more than hiding; this was playing me, manipulating me. Lying to me—a seasoned CIA agent who’d what…fallen for it all?
It couldn’t be true.
There had to be something in these files to prove they were wrong. What, I had no idea, but I searched for it more desperately than a man dying of thirst in a hunt for water. Yet with each click of my mouse, every pixel of my screen drew me further from what I thought I knew—what I’d been so sure of—and deeper into the abyss of agony.
“I would have seen this,” I reasoned. “I would have known.”
This new reality mocked me for the fool I had been and threatened to shatter what was left of my heart.
For the first time in my life, I had allowed myself to feel something for a woman, and I’d started to imagine a possible future together. One of love and peace rather than agony and fury. It’s funny how you don’t know what you truly want until it’s within your grasp. And just when you want to hold on to it, something threatens to rip it from your grip so violently that it will leave your soul blistered and raw.
I mean, my God, this evidence meant Ivy was even worse than the man who had killed my father. That she was a snake, lurking in the shadows, waiting to strike, while also hypnotizing me into believing she was innocent.
Maybe the signs had been there all along, in plain sight. Her lethal fighting skills, her knowledge of that classified location, her desperation to come up with money…
And I had been too clouded by affection to see them.
“We all have our blind spots,” Daniel assured.
If this was true…
“She wasn’t a blind spot,” I said. “She is…was a black hole.”
This whole time, when I’d feared my world crashing in around me, it had always been the terror of someone being taken from me, but as it turned out, there was another way I could lose it all.
My world crashed down around me because, evidently, I’d let the enemy in my bed.
The sweet taste of her sex lingered on my tongue, a haunting reminder of the intimacy we had shared, the trust I had placed in her.
How could I have been so foolish? This felt like fucking acid burning my muscles, our tender moments now tainted with bitter truth.
Tears stung as the poisonous reality infected every morsel of my being.
When Daniel’s voice went silent, I knew that beneath his frustration, he felt bad for me, not only for having my heart toyed with, but also for what had to be done.
He cleared his throat, his tone full of sympathy. “Do you need me to find another operative to take care of her?”
Take care of her. Oh my God, I think it was the first time that it hit me—Ivy was going to die for this. All along, I’d known that if she was proven guilty, that was the outcome, of course. But I’d been so certain of her innocence, I didn’t think it would actually happen.
My heart wanted to scream that I knew her, evidence be dammed. It wanted to save her life, help her escape her fate.
But that was absurd, sick, and twisted.
Right?
Because…this evidence—photos, bank transactions, and communications between her and Ivan Vosch—there was no denying the truth.
It didn’t feel real, but I suppose the road to acceptance would be long and painful, a journey fraught with doubt, anger, and heartbreak. With the undeniable truth staring back at me, right now, I needed to focus on protecting innocent lives.
Daniel waited for an answer as I sat here, numb and broken.
“No.” I couldn’t imagine anyone ending her life, but I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else being the one to do it. This was my mission, my responsibility, and my betrayal to bear.
“I’ll take care of it,” I said, trying to sound confident.
I could.
I would.
Right?
“Grayson…”
Daniel must’ve heard the emotional turmoil in my voice—more specifically, my immense hesitation. My uncertainty.
I didn’t get into the CIA to let dangerous criminals murder people , I reminded myself. Ivy might look sweet, but you need to see her for who she really is.
“I’ll do it.” I kept my voice more even this time, more convincing.
“You sure?”
No. Killing a woman was bad enough. Ending Ivy… holy shit. How the hell would I go through with this?
“I’m sure.”
“Good. Because we have a lot on our plate and convincing you to follow orders isn’t something that can happen again.”
Guilt ripped up my insides, followed by mortification. She’d humiliated me in front of my boss.
“I understand.”
“Now”—Daniel cleared his throat—“there’s something else.”
What else could there be? Did she have a side hustle of torturing puppies?
“We have Vosch’s location.”
Just a few short days ago, those words would have unleashed a euphoric wave inside of me. What a tragedy that it was so damn dull right now.
“Seth worked his magic with those surveillance cameras, and we found him. He’s just outside the city. We’re putting the tactical team together now. You still want to be the one to finish him?”
This pain would go away, right? It had to. I couldn’t give up the opportunity to finish what I started, and I couldn’t allow this heartache to distract me.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good. Because I fought to keep you on this assignment and it wasn’t easy. You need to be free to do it.”
Free. As in free of Ivy.
My chest caved in on itself.
“Seth and I are meeting tonight at the safe house on Elm,” Daniel said.
Elm. That was the place close to Hunter’s.
“You need to be there, or they’ll assign another operative to be the one to finish him,” Daniel said.
Everything I wanted a few short days ago was being handed to me on a silver platter. My second chance to end Vosch and redeem myself in the eyes of the CIA. An organization that I had pledged my absolute loyalty to, above my family, above my wants in life.
Sure, another operative could take Vosch down, but this had been my mission, and this was what I had wanted.
“No more delays,” Daniel urged. “Take care of the target.”
I had dedicated my life to fighting the very evil Ivy represented, and now, to protect everything I stood for, to carry out my duty to the CIA and the citizens I vowed to protect, I would have to kill the woman I had started to fall in love with.
I ended the call with Daniel and shoved a stack of books off the desk—watching as they flew through the air like paper bullets, slamming against the drywall like the truth slammed against my heart. Running a hand through my hair, my periphery caught movement in the doorway before her voice broke the silence.
“Grayson?”