60. GRAYSON
60
GRAYSON
Everything about him seemed different today, a stark contrast to his usual polished demeanor. His once-dignified silver hair now hung limp and unkempt, and those eyes that used to radiate strength and determination now appeared sunken and weary. It was like the facade had crumbled away, revealing the coward hiding beneath his veneer of confidence.
How many deep lines on his face were from guilt over killing innocent people or from helping mass murderers evade persecution—leaving them free to slaughter more? And how many were from fear of being caught himself?
To think, when I was younger, he’d become my idol. A real-life walking hero, who risked his life to help people. I remember thinking how it didn’t get more noble than that.
My stomach twisted at the memory of the impressionable teenager who’d stumbled into Daniel’s line of sight. An angry, bitter clay of pain, vulnerable to be shaped.
Other kids my age, they idolized rock stars, actors, or athletes. But not me. You could have put the biggest names in music, Hollywood, and sports in a room, and I would have pushed past all of them to get to Daniel.
He became something bigger than all of them combined.
He became my God. And I was his willing servant, who would have gone to war had he whispered the command. I’d have run into battle, unarmed, if only to protect him. But all of that was predicated on him being the most honorable person I’d met. Even more honorable than my father.
And that, I think, was the most repulsive part of it all. That I’d put him on a pedestal higher than the man who’d given me life. While I cherished the wonderful family man my father was, whenever I thought of him, I suppose I saw his career choice as impressive—a company he’d built alongside my grandfather and, with it, a legacy and fortune so great that it would be passed down for generations. An impressive accomplishment.
But noble?
Hardly.
Noble was risking your life to save a stranger’s. Noble was taking a career even though it collected its pay with fragments of your soul, haunting your dreams with the faces of monsters you willingly faced. And slayed.
In my book, Daniel had been the ultimate hero.
But a true hero would never help a mass murderer, no matter the conditions.
“Why?” I pressed again, leaning forward.
Daniel’s lips thinned as he avoided my gaze. “You think I wanted to do this?”
“No one had a gun to your head,” I said, the irony not lost on me as I kept my finger on the hairpin trigger.
“No,” he said. “Much worse. They put a gun to my family’s heads. If I didn’t cooperate, they’d be killed.”
“Just like you’re doing to mine,” I pointed out. And as for his family, “You’re a leader in the CIA. You had a powerful organization behind you that would have helped you and protected your family.”
“I thought the same thing at first,” Daniel said. “When he approached me and demanded I help him, I told him to go to hell. Repeatedly. I even documented his harassment and reported it. But when he got to my son.” He paused. “When he caused the accident that almost took my son’s life, everything changed.”
I remembered Daniel’s son’s crash. It had shaken Daniel to his core, visiting him in the ICU, and after, Daniel had seemed sullen and withdrawn. At the time, I’d chalked it up to the emotional aftermath of almost losing a child, but looking back now, I could see the clues I’d missed—that Vosch had a metaphorical gun aimed at Daniel’s loved ones.
“It’s funny how, when the gun is pointed at the people that you love the most, you’ll do anything to protect them,” Daniel said. “Even things you thought you’d never do.”
“Helping Vosch wasn’t protecting them; it was giving him more power. You should have escalated it, reported it to another organization if you needed to.”
“Vosch had moles everywhere. If he found out I was working against him, my family would be the one to pay the price.”
“They could have surrounded your family with armed security.”
“Did armed security stop my team from getting into Hunter’s home?”
How dare he bring that up.
“They could have gone into witness protection.”
“Possibly,” Daniel agreed. “But what if someone in that organization had a gun to their family’s heads?”
“This is what criminal masterminds do,” I reminded him. “They incite fear and prey on it like vultures. The key to not letting them win is to not surrender to the narrative that they have all the power.”
Daniel flashed me a sad smile. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple.” My voice rose. “We all have choices to make in this world, and you took the easy way out. You’re a coward.”
He said nothing.
“Ivy told me everything you said when you held her in the basement,” I said through gritted teeth. “You were not a scared man, reluctantly surrendering to orders in that basement. You were in complete control and showed no remorse.”
“When a human being finds themself in a catastrophic situation, they go into survival mode. That’s what I’ve been doing.” Daniel rubbed his temple with his free hand.
“Is that what you tell yourself at night?”
“It’s the truth.”
“It’s a cop-out. You’re just like them,” I accused. “You have your reasons for why you’re willing to hurt innocent people, but the end result is the same. You’re a traitor to this country, to your family, and to me.”
I didn’t expect my words to penetrate the dark shield around his soul, but I could see the regret in his eyes. Maybe the old Daniel was still in there somewhere after all.
“Why did you have me kill Ivy’s father?” I demanded. Ivy and I had our suspicions based on what Daniel had told her, but I needed to hear it from him .
“You know why.”
“According to what you told Ivy, Vosch was going to take it out on her. Hurt her to punish the father.” Just like Vosch had done to Daniel. “But you killed him. Why?”
“He knew the risks of going against Vosch,” Daniel said.
“That’s not an answer,” I said. “You sent me to kill him and stage it to look like a suicide. Why?”
“It was a suicide. He’d reached out on the dark web for someone to end his life.”
“To protect his daughter, because he felt like he had no way out.”
“An inevitable end.” Daniel’s voice was flat.
“No, it wasn’t. Perhaps if he’d had more time to think about it, he might have found a path out of that mess.”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“Did Ivy’s father know your real name was Daniel? Or that you weren’t who you said you were?”
“No.”
“Did Ivy’s mother?”
“No.”
Something inside me rejoiced at that; Ivy’s mom didn’t strike me as the type of woman who’d willingly get into bed with someone who’d gone against her family, but seeing as how Vosch had gotten to Daniel, who knew? It was important to me that Ivy’s only living parent hadn’t betrayed her.
But rather had been a victim herself.
“You still haven’t answered my question. Why did you want him dead?”
When he said nothing, I was tempted to just pull the damn trigger. But part of my contingency plan required recording this conversation on my cell—evidence that would be used against him.
“Ivy’s father overheard a phone call, didn’t he?”
Ivy and her mom filled me in on their theory, piecing together comments the father had made leading up to his death. Calling Daniel dangerous .
“Did he find out you were working with Vosch?”
“Not exactly,” Daniel said. “But he heard me refer to Vosch by name, and that was enough. It was a rookie mistake.”
“People get complacent after years of not getting caught,” I pointed out. “And then you killed Ivy’s father to cover your ass,” I said. “So he wouldn’t give the cops your name, too.”
“Vosch’s terms were clear; if I got caught, he’d come after my family.”
“That’s why you made it look like a suicide?” I realized.
“If Vosch found out I killed the father instead of Ivy, I’d be in serious hot water with him.”
Just as we suspected.
“So, you couldn’t tell him the truth—that the father was about to implicate you, too.”
“He should have kept his mouth shut.”
“If it was a suicide, then Vosch would assume the father simply couldn’t take it anymore. The threat the father posed to you would be gone, but only if it was ruled a suicide. And that’s why it was such a problem when Ivy was pressing detectives about it; if they reopened the case and it was ruled a homicide, Vosch would find out the truth. That you’d disobeyed his orders.” This was a lot to process, but sadly, it all made sense. “That’s why you needed Ivy dead. That’s why you lured her to that parking garage.”
“She should have let it go,” Daniel said, as if this were all her fault.
I understood why Ivy had been lured there. But why Vosch?
“If you were working with Vosch, why did he show up to the garage? If you were under his thumb, didn’t you warn him about the termination?”
Something flickered through his face—frustration mixed with anger. And that’s when the last pieces clicked together.
“You waited to tell him until he was already there,” I realized. “Because you wanted him to get killed.”
“Of course I did. I didn’t want to be under his thumb. The other three CIA attempts, I tipped him off too soon. This time, I waited until he was already in the garage before warning him.”
So, Vosch would be dead, problem solved.
“Why tell him at all? Why not just let the CIA kill him and end all your problems?”
“Contingency plan. If he survived and found out I knew about the assassination plan and hadn’t warned him, he’d know I was working against him. It was safer to claim I had only found out about it when it was already going down.”
“Perfect scenario for you since both he and Ivy would’ve been killed. Because, even if Vosch was dead, Ivy’s nagging pressure on the cops might end with you behind bars. Not to mention disgraced.”
It was all pathetically clear now—how Vosch had managed to turn him and the lengths Daniel had gone to in order to protect his family.
“Did you think I’d shoot Ivy in that garage?” I asked.
“I knew Vosch would kill anyone who showed up at that meeting,” Daniel clarified.
“And just in case they didn’t, you had the bomb. A fail-safe for both Ivy and Vosch,” I continued. “Was the plan to take me out, too?”
This was the first time Daniel looked hurt. “Of course not. My goal wasn’t to kill you, Grayson, but if everything went to hell, the bomb was another contingency.”
“Which might very well have killed me.”
“If it was me or your family, which would you choose?” he questioned.
I’d always find a way to protect my family, but I’d never knowingly kill an innocent person to do it; I’d go after the people responsible for putting us in that position.
Daniel, on the other hand—my hero and mentor—was willing to sacrifice me at the altar. My intestines twisted with repulsion.
“You want to talk about family now?” I asked. “When your team broke into Hunter’s house, you didn’t just risk Ivy’s life. You risked my family’s life to protect yours.”
“You would have done the same.”
“No.” I shook my head. “That’s where we’re different.”
I’d never endanger Daniel’s family’s lives like that.
I don’t know why I thought I would get resolution, talking with Daniel, but it felt like the opposite. The man that I knew—the one with honor and dignity—was gone, and in his place was an imposter with justifications for everything he had done.
Killing Ivy’s father and destroying her heart, only to try and kill her too—they were the worst crimes he committed. But there was one other crime that was just as atrocious.
“Why did you send me to kill Ivy’s father?” I asked.
Daniel stared at me.
“You know my past,” I continued. “The reason I got into this profession was because my father had been murdered.”
I could still picture the day I’d confided all this to Daniel and how, for the first time since my father’s death, I’d finally sobbed about it. To everyone else, I had shrouded my vulnerability and pain behind a veil of anger. Keeping it hidden from my family, not wanting to add to their own suffering. My mother’s anguish and my brothers’ broken spirits were already too much to bear.
My voice cracked as I continued, “You knew my history, and yet you used me to murder someone else’s innocent father.” The lump in my throat grew, threatening to choke me with pain. I refused to let Daniel see me suffer, though—he no longer deserved my vulnerability. “Out of anyone you could have sent, why did you send me?”
No matter how much time passed or how many people might offer their forgiveness, the guilt of taking an innocent life would haunt me forever.
I’d become the man in the woods. A monster who ended an innocent life, and unlike Daniel, no amount of rationalization or justification would ever bring me peace.
It was a crushing betrayal.
“You were my best agent,” Daniel said. “And I trusted you’d carry it out exactly as I needed it to be done.”
Because anything less would create complications for Daniel. How selfish could he be?
“Besides,” he added, “you were never supposed to find out.”
If Ivy hadn’t gotten out safely, would I have ever learned of Daniel’s lies? Without Ivy in my life, Daniel’s deception would have shut me down forever. I never would have trusted anyone again, never would’ve let anyone in to give them a chance, and I might have even receded inward from my own brothers.
But Daniel wouldn’t win; I wouldn’t allow myself to surrender to the anchor of guilt carrying me under. His betrayal was his own, and while I would never be able to find peace with what I had done, I would choose to find a way to move forward.
Ivy deserved that.
“Why did you and your men tell Ivy that her father wasn’t the person she thought he was?”
Daniel had the audacity to look bored by this question. “He let a weapons ring run for years under his nose. Not the definition of nobility, if you ask me.”
The nerve. Her father had turned a blinds eye because they’d tried to abduct Ivy; he’d merely done it out of fear.
“You want to talk about nobility? Why did you keep dating Ivy’s mother?” I asked. “Her dad died over a year ago?”
Daniel shifted slightly, as if this made him uncomfortable.
“I needed to make sure she didn’t uncover the truth,” Daniel said. “And that she stopped asking questions. And then later, I needed to keep tabs on Ivy, and staying with the mother was the easiest way to do it.”
Jesus.
“The second time I was ordered to kill Ivy,” I said, remembering when she and I had left the cabin so I could present the evidence to Daniel. Assuming he’d find a way to call off the dogs when, all along, he’d been the pack leader. “When I confronted you and Seth with the evidence against Ivy, you agreed it needed to be investigated.” He pretended to go against Seth’s idea of dropping it. “Why’d you do that when you were the one who created the files? Any investigation would’ve led back to you?” I asked.
Unbelievably, Daniel fidgeted like he was being inconvenienced by all these questions. “What was I supposed to do? It’d look awfully guilty if I didn’t agree it needed to be looked at.”
“But it would have implicated you.”
Then again, he could always find an excuse to back out later.
“When you confronted me, I wasn’t sure how I’d cover my tracks good enough to pass a CIA audit, but at that moment, I needed to focus on getting to Ivy.” To eliminate her and her mother. “After, I’d find someone to help me with the IT trail, but I could only handle one problem at a time.”
When I had confronted him without evidence, Ivy’s abduction was in process. Of course he’d kick the IT can down the road. And as for pretending to be on board with investigating the evidence, that was a short-term play to make him look innocent in front of Seth.
It must be hard when your web of lies begins to unravel.
Every conversation with him was replaying in my mind with this new lens.
“The first night I was sent to kill Ivy,” I continued, “and I came to your home, I asked you if you knew Samantha Jackson was the same woman who came to the parking garage. You acted like you had no idea, but you did.” And I’d believed him, hook, line, and sinker. “You’re a good actor.”
“Comes with the CIA territory, Grayson.”
Unbelievable.
“I thought you were an honorable person,” I mused, shaking my head. “Turns out, you’re no better than the men we hunt.”
“Why don’t you just get it over with?” Daniel clenched his jaw.
“You think I’m going to kill you.”
Shock—or dare I say, fear—rippled through his face when he realized I might not leave him to die. That’s why this felt off, I realized.
He was drawing me in to kill him.
Not me.
“Why didn’t you put your weapon down when I arrived, then?” I asked.
My old mentor sighed, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of the man who had once guided me.
“You deserved some answers, Grayson,” he said, his voice heavy with resignation.
The words twisted something inside me. This wasn’t nobility—it was manipulation wrapped in false redemption. Daniel knew exactly what he was doing. He understood how unanswered questions would gnaw at me, how they’d keep me awake at night, turning over every detail until I went mad. So he’d orchestrated this final act, choosing to unburden his conscience at gunpoint rather than face justice. And he must’ve feared that, had he put down his weapon earlier, there was a chance I would have turned him over to authorities rather than kill him.
This wasn’t closure—it was his final betrayal disguised as a gift.
“Death is too easy for you,” I said. “You deserve to rot in a prison cell.”
Daniel tensed; this wasn’t going according to his plan.
“Vosch won’t let me live in prison. He’ll kill me.”
But in a much more brutal fashion, I’d imagine.
“Maybe,” I allowed. “But it won’t be me who pulls the trigger. I won’t give you the gift of a swift end.”
“He’ll come after my family.”
“Your family is merely leverage to him, to get you to comply with his demands. If there’s no you, there’s nothing to be gained by killing your family. But you already knew that. That’s why you came here. It wasn’t to apologize or explain away your sins; you see no other way out than to die to protect them.”
Ironic, when you think about it. In an obscene, filthy way. Karma can hit us when we least expect it.
“Do you want to know something?” I continued. “I don’t think you’re trying to die to protect them; I think you’re trying to die so that they’ll never find out what you’ve done.”
Daniel’s jaw ticced.
“So, look at my face closely,” I said. “This look of disgust is all you will get from your family from this point forward.”
With his grimace, I could tell my words delivered a catastrophic blow.
“I’m dead either way.”
Maybe he was even considering firing at me—suicide by shooting and all that. But perhaps our years together did mean something to him, after all, because his gun lowered as his muscles softened into defeat.
“We all have choices to make, Daniel, and now, yours are catching up with you.”
“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You think you’d have discovered a way to keep Vosch at bay?” Daniel shook his head. “You think you can escape him, outsmart him, take him down. Ivy’s dad tried, as did countless CIA operatives, all of whom failed. I’ve tried for years, and look where it’s gotten me…to this very place—right here, right now.”
I swallowed.
“Mark my words,” he said calmly. “He’ll find out you were his attempted assassin and that Ivy poses a risk to his organization. Vosch will eventually hunt you both, and you’ll never see him coming.”
His warning poisoned the air around us for what felt like an eternity, and as I stared at him, I didn’t see a man playing a game of chess. I saw the man he once was, the father figure, the mentor, teaching me lessons he’d learned the hard way.
Before I had the chance to say anything else, the door slammed open with a thud. Three police officers burst in, their guns drawn and aimed at Daniel. Detective Mitchell followed close behind, his attention locked on the scene before him.
Reflexively, Daniel aimed his gun at them, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead as he stared down the barrels of the officers’ weapons.
“Put the weapon down!” a police officer barked.
I held up my palm to the cops. “Don’t shoot him. That’s exactly what he wants.”
Daniel’s stare darted between the officers and me, a wild desperation in his gaze. “I’ll shoot!”
“You do that,” I said, taking a step closer, “your family will remember you as a coward who fired at a police officer. There’s no way to spin that without looking like a monster, Daniel. Is this how you want to be remembered by your loved ones?”
His face fell, his eyes shimmering with tears.
“It’s over, Daniel.” My voice was soft, my warning tough.
Daniel’s chest heaved, each ragged breath echoing in the silence. His white-knuckled grip on the gun trembled slightly as his wild eyes darted between the stone-faced officers and me, desperately seeking an escape that didn’t exist.
When he spoke, his voice was a broken whisper. “Tell them I love them.”
Time seemed to slow as Daniel raised the gun with agonizing deliberation, pressing the cold barrel beneath his quivering chin.
“No!” The command thundered from Detective Mitchell’s throat, reverberating off the walls.
Bam. The deafening crack split the air.
Daniel’s head lolled backward, his body slumping to the ground in a lifeless heap as the gun clattered to the floor beside him.
I stood frozen, my pulse pounding in my ears as I stared at Daniel’s motionless figure, an avalanche of unexpected feelings crashing down on me.
Daniel was gone forever.
I thought I would dance on his grave after everything he had done, but instead, a part of me felt cracked open by his sudden and violent end.
Memories of the good Daniel flooded my mind—of the times when he’d been there for me in my darkest days. Despite the villain he had become, I couldn’t deny the role he had played in saving me when I needed it most.
Swallowing, I knew this was only the beginning; I’d mourn not only the loss of his life, but of the person he’d once been. His journey into darkness would serve as a constant reminder of the complexity of human beings and the devastating consequences of our choices.
I cast one final glance at Daniel before turning away, wanting nothing more than peace. But his parting words echoed in my mind with an ominous mantra.
“Vosch will eventually hunt you both, and you’ll never see him coming.”