67. IVY
67
IVY
My vision struggled to focus through the thick veil of smoke, the biting stench invading my sinuses and making my eyes water. I blinked furiously, trying to see through the haze, but I could only make out shadowy figures darting through the murk while footsteps thundered across the hardwoods.
A female shriek from the kitchen pierced through the grunts and smacks of ongoing scuffles.
“You touch one hair on Luna’s head,” Hunter coughed.
One by one, bodies slammed to the ground, the impact vibrating the wooden planks beneath me as strange voices barked for them to, “Stand the fuck down or else…”
All of it echoed in my ears, which rang from whatever had detonated the smoke bomb.
Each breath felt like I was sucking in fire, throttling my air supply and searing my lungs with every desperate gasp. I couldn’t stop coughing, my body convulsing with each violent expulsion of air, each one more painful than the next, leaving my throat raw and ragged.
But even in the chaos, a chilling realization crashed into my mind.
They’re here for me.
My heart pounded as I stared down the barrel of one intruder’s rifle, his steely eyes locked on mine. The seconds stretched into an eternity, the air heavy with tension as I mentally raced through impossible scenarios.
Years of training flashed through my mind. A well-placed kick, a disarming move. Could I catch them off guard long enough to make a desperate run for it? But even as the thought took shape, I knew the bitter truth. These were no ordinary men; they were highly trained CIA operatives, armed to the teeth, poised to strike, and probably outmatching us in numbers. Even if Grayson’s brothers tried to help protect me—and by the sounds of their grunts, they were—it would only lead to more pain, more bloodshed. I couldn’t bear the thought of Grayson losing the only family he had left, not after the devastating loss of his parents.
Tears blurred my vision as I stepped forward on trembling legs, my voice breaking. “Please, don’t hurt them. I won’t fight, just let them live.” The words tasted like ash on my tongue, but I choked them out all the same. For Grayson’s sake. Without his brothers, the grief would destroy him.
Unless…Oh God, what if they already got Grayson, too? What if they punished him for trying to protect me? My stomach rolled in agony, but I couldn’t afford to break in half right now; I forced myself to shake that unimaginable thought. He had to be alive.
He had to be.
And when he came back to his family, they had to be here. Alive and well.
My heart splintered as I imagined Mom and Grams, their tear-streaked faces flashing before my eyes. What I wouldn’t give to wrap them in my arms one last time, to swear on everything holy that I was innocent, that this was all some terrible mistake. Would they remember me as a good and loving person or believe the CIA’s cruel lies?
Or worse, would I simply vanish without a trace, leaving them forever haunted by questions and fading hopes?
I swallowed a sob, forcing myself to focus. The CIA wanted me dead, and I would accept that fate willingly if it meant protecting Grayson and the people Grayson loved most.
With my fate sealed and my heart surrendering, I squeezed my eyelids shut. Time stilled in the space between my last breath and the bullet that would end it all. A moment suspended, atoms frozen—the same final instant Dad must have experienced before he pulled the trigger and hot lead shattered bone and stole his last thought. Whose face did he see when he’d closed his eyes?
When I looked into the abyss, it was Grayson’s mesmerizing eyes that gazed back .
“I’m so sorry,” I breathed to his phantom image. “I love you.”
I wanted to beg him not to let this loss drag him back into the shadows he had fought so hard to escape. At least his brothers would survive. At least he wouldn’t be utterly alone.
I’m not sure how long I stood there, suspended on the bridge to my death. A millisecond? An hour? Until, finally, something assaulted my body. But it wasn’t a bullet; it was a pair of rough hands wrenching my arms behind my back.
“Got her,” a gruff voice barked.
My eyes flew open as he started shoving me forward.
“Wh-what are you doing?” I stuttered.
They’d come here to kill me, so why was he moving me toward the front door?
The smoke had dissipated enough that I could make out other shapes—men, dressed in all black, with rifles jammed against the skulls of Grayson’s brothers, who lay on the floor, stomachs down, hands laced behind their heads.
Hunter turned his head slightly, and his gaze found mine, his eyes locking with an intensity that sent fresh waves of dread coursing through me.
In an instant, his attention snapped to the men manhandling Luna. His features hardened, a dangerous shadow falling over his features.
“Wait!” I said, yanking my body. “Where are you taking me?”
“Shut the fuck up and move,” a callous snarl came as I was shoved again.
Tires screeched outside, a black van skidding to a halt beyond the open door, the side door sliding open.
They’re abducting me? Why? If they didn’t want any witnesses to my death, it was far too late for that.
Oh my god.
Grayson’s brothers are unwanted witnesses.
“Stop!” I dug in my heels. “If I go willingly, you’ll let them go, right? You’ll let them live?”
When the guy’s only response was another rough shove, I changed tactics in desperation. “You’re making a huge mistake! I’m not an arms dealer, and I don’t work with Vosch!”
To my surprise, the guy grinned, his expression almost mocking. “We know that, darlin’.”
His words sent a chill down my spine. What the hell is going on?
“Then, why are you doing this?” I demanded, my mind reeling.
The guy leaned in close, his rancid breath washing over my face. “You want someone to blame, darlin’? Look no further than your dear old dad.”
It felt like the ground had dropped out from under me, his words a gut punch that left me breathless.
“My dad? What does he have to do with any of this?”
The guy’s featured glinted with a cruel knowledge as he sneered, “Your father isn’t the man you thought he was. Now, move.”
He shoved me again, this time so hard, I almost tripped.
“What?” I thrashed around until I freed myself of his grip. “I’m not going anywhere, unless you?—”
Pain exploded, white-hot stars flashing across my vision. For a terrifying instant, I thought it was all over, that the guy had pulled the trigger after all. But as the scene sharpened back into focus, I realized I was still breathing, the fuzzy van swimming before my eyes. Before I could even try to resist, iron hands grabbed me, brutally flinging me into the waiting vehicle. I crashed against the hard metal, agony radiating from my throbbing hip.
As I lay there, gasping for breath, my mind reeled with the agent’s shocking revelation. My father, the man whose memory I cherished…he was supposedly connected to all of this? But how? And why? What role did he have in this nightmare?
It had to be a mistake.
But another realization slashed through my heart when my attention flickered to the mansion’s open door, where the agent still had his rifle trained on Hunter’s head. A silent exchange—a barely perceptible nod—passed between the agent and the man who appeared to be his superior. My blood turned to ice as I recognized the unspoken order.
Time slowed to a crawl as the agent’s stance shifted, his grip on the rifle tightening—the telltale posture of a man about to end a life.
“No!” I screamed, my voice raw with desperation.
But my cry was swallowed by the deafening clang of the van door slamming shut. The vehicle lurched forward, tires squealing against asphalt, carrying me away from Hunter.
Seconds later, gunshots shattered the night.