33. IVY
33
IVY
“I can explain,” I said.
As Grayson surveyed the man’s battered and bloodied form, his expression gradually shifted from one of initial shock and fury to a more subdued look. When his eyes finally locked with mine, I could have sworn I detected a flicker of pride in their depths.
“Can’t even go to the restroom without someone trying to kill you, Kitten?” The corner of his lips curled up slightly, and he arched a brow.
I straightened my shoulders. “I had it covered.” At least, I hope I did.
“I know.” Grayson glanced down at the man, his expression hardening. “But you would’ve left him with a pulse.”
“I thought you only killed mass murderers.” Or people you thought were mass murderers, at least.
Grayson’s eyes locked with mine, a fierce intensity burning within them. “If someone lays hands on you, their heart will no longer have the privilege of beating.” His words, laced with a possessive undercurrent, sent heat through my stomach.
I swallowed, trying to ignore the unwanted sensation.
“Now, let’s go.” Grayson removed the silencer and shoved it into his hoodie pocket before tucking the gun into the back of his waistband. “We can’t afford to be here when the police show up.”
“But…” A man just died. Possibly even a serial killer, responsible for all those women in the missing persons posters. “We have to give the police our statements.”
Okay, sometimes, as soon as words leave your lips, you realize how stupid they sound. But I seriously didn’t need Grayson’s incredulous look.
“Would you like me to text Daniel our address while we’re at it?”
I pursed my lips, annoyed at his condescension. “We should get gas,” I said. “It will be suspicious if we parked at the pump, but never got any.”
A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Look at you, thinking like a real criminal mastermind.”
That earned him another glower.
As I watched Grayson pump gas, I couldn’t help but notice the way his muscles stretched his fitted hoodie, the way he constantly scanned our surroundings for any hint of peril. I wanted what just happened—witnessing him murder another person—to snap my hormones and feelings into submission. If anything had the power to do that, seeing Grayson take a life should’ve done it.
And yet, as we buckled our seat belts and drove off, I found myself grappling with a troubling realization. Seeing a predator get killed, watching Grayson protect me with such ruthless efficiency…it didn’t have the effect I wanted it to. In fact, it was quite the opposite. Instead of being repulsed by his actions, I felt a strange sense of fascination, an inexplicable draw toward him. The way he protected me, the way he eliminated the threat without hesitation—it stirred something deep within me, something I couldn’t quite define.
And that thought, more than anything, terrified me.
If I wasn’t careful, I’d lose the battle against my own emotions and fall deeper into a dangerous attraction.