69. IVY
69
IVY
“You lied to me!” The words wrenched from my throat, raw with betrayal, as I blinked furiously, fighting back the hot tears that threatened to spill.
Based on the angling of Grayson’s thick eyebrows, he wasn’t proud that he’d full-on tricked me into coming to this private tarmac of a regional airport, where the distant hum of jet engines filled the tense silence between us.
Just yards away, our sleek aircraft waited, its pilot already seated in the cockpit. The sight of it—primed for takeoff—only amplified the feeling of being trapped, cornered by Grayson’s elaborate scheme.
“I never lied .” But his guilty tone told me he knew exactly what he’d done.
“Bullshit you didn’t!” I pointed my finger toward him, trying to swallow the lump that threatened to derail my talking points. “You made me believe you were coming on this trip with all of us.”
“I never explicitly said I was going, Ivy.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “Your definition of the truth is very different from mine, then.”
Grayson’s attention darted past our army of security guards.
“Fine,” he allowed. “I lied by omission. But only because I knew you wouldn’t get on that plane if you found out I wasn’t going.”
“You’re damn right I’m not getting on that plane without you.”
Grayson’s jaw tightened, and his eyes turned into daggers. “You’re getting on that plane.”
“Ma’am?” the CIA agent who was accompanying us called out from the private jet’s door, his tone urgent. “We need to go.”
“I’m not leaving without you ,” I insisted.
“They’re not taking off without you, Ivy. You need to be reasonable here.”
“Reasonable?” I stepped forward. The scent of his cologne, usually comforting, felt like a mocking detail he’d used to make it seem like he was preparing for an ordinary trip. “The CIA can do this without you.”
His impatient and worried glance darted around us again.
“They can’t,” Grayson countered. “No one can get close enough to him.”
Oh my God . That’s when I realized what he was really doing. Not merely being part of a team or an operation. He was planning to confront Vosch himself.
“We can find a way to protect ourselves,” I pleaded. “You don’t have to do this!”
“Ivy, it’s done.” His words were clipped, like a parent who’d reached their limit with patience, which stung even more.
How dare he lie to me. How dare he trick me and then act impatient when I refused to go along with his schemes. If the shoe was on the other foot, he’d never get on that plane.
I knew he was trying to protect me and his family, and for that, I was grateful. Especially with the little surprise I hadn’t told him about yet, but that only made it all the more crucial that he was safe, too.
Grayson looked around again. “Every second you’re on this tarmac is a second too long. Vosch’s men could be en route right now. You need to go. Now.”
He had the nerve to grab my arm. Gently, but still. I yanked it away, keeping my voice as full of authority as I could muster.
Desperation took the wheel of my heartbeat, thundering it through my veins so quickly that I began panting.
If I refused to go, he wouldn’t leave my side, and if he didn’t leave my side, then he wouldn’t personally confront the most violent criminal in the country head-on, and then—and only then—would Grayson remain alive.
For now, at least.
“I’m not leaving without you.” I stepped away from the plane.
“Ivy, I love you.” He stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “And I appreciate how difficult this is. But hear me when I say this: You’re getting on that plane, even if we have to carry you. If I have to sedate you, you will be safe.”
“You can’t confront him!”
Grayson motioned for some gun-yielding guard to come closer, and my throat dried at his betrayal.
“My dad died, trying to protect me,” I reminded him as tears blurred my vision. “You can’t do it, too. I can’t live with myself if two people I love most in this world died to save me!”
I could see my words gutted him, his eyes softening with regret, but it didn’t change his mind, evidently, because he turned to the burly man with the AK-47 and said, “Get her on the plane.”
“I’ll fight you,” I warned the guy, tears breaking over my cheeks.
If I got on that plane, Grayson would die; it was as simple as that.
“Hey,” the guard called out to some other enforcer guy. “Looks like we’re going with plan C.”
A thin man with a goatee nodded and walked toward us as he pulled a black case from his pocket and opened it.
Revealing a syringe.
“You can’t,” I barked, stepping backward as I snapped my furious gaze at Grayson. “How dare you?”
“It’s for your own protection,” Grayson said, like this didn’t violate my human rights on a zillion levels.
“You can’t inject me,” I snapped, darting my gaze between AK-47 Dude, who was coming closer to me, and Needle Guy, who took the cap off.
“Ivy…”
I spun, heart racing, but my attempt to run was cut short by an immovable wall of flesh. A mountain of a man had materialized behind me, his massive chest an impassable barrier. Panic joined the rage surging through me as I realized I’d been so fixated on the threat in front of me that I’d left myself vulnerable.
Prey being herded.
“Last chance,” Grayson warned as I turned to face him again. “I don’t want them to do this to you, Ivy, so please, get on the plane.”
I couldn’t let them inject me with anything, and Grayson needed to understand the true stakes, the life that hung in the balance beyond just his own. This wasn’t how I wanted to tell him—I’d imagined this on a romantic walk on the beach at sunset. Making love with the ocean waves crashing outside our hotel room, a starlit night, and watching the sun paint the sky as we marveled at the countless new mornings stretching before us, each one a promise of shared joy.
But fate had other plans. Here I stood, on a grimy tarmac, winter’s chill biting at my skin. Our breath clouded the air while the menacing glint of rifle barrels surrounded us, a far cry from the starlight I’d hoped for. And there he was—the love of my life, my future, our future—teetering on the edge of leaving not just me, but the child he didn’t even know existed.
“You can’t let them inject me, Grayson.” My voice cracked. “I’m pregnant.”
All the men froze while my lip quivered.
“I took a test this morning, and it was positive.”
Grayson held his palm up to Needle Man, but he didn’t take his now-firm eyes off my face, studying it, as if looking for any sign this was a ruse to get him to come with me. But he must have seen that, based on the sagging in my shoulders and the steadfast look in my features, I was telling the truth.
“Give us a minute,” Grayson commanded the men, who parted away, while Grayson took a step closer.
“You have an IUD.” His tone was soft now, his eyebrows shooting together in confusion.
Tell me about it. That was my reaction when the little line came back positive. Which was why I’d taken a second and third test.
“0.8% of women experience unintended pregnancy with them,” I explained, wiping a fresh stream of tears. “Looks like we’re part of the 0.8%.”
Grayson froze, his body tense as his gaze narrowed in horror. Just what every girl longs to see when the love of her life finds out you’re starting a family. But that horror? It told me everything that I needed to know about what his real expectations were.
“You believe you’re going to die,” I choked over my swelling throat.
A fresh round of vomit swirled in my stomach, and I had to swallow to keep from launching it onto the asphalt.
This can’t be happening . He can’t die. Someone I love can’t sacrifice themself again just to save me.
“Sir, we have to go!” the agent demanded.
“I knew you were acting different,” I choked out, my voice barely a whisper. “Ever since that penthouse situation, you’ve been…God, Grayson, you’ve been acting like my dad in his final weeks.” That’s what it was. I couldn’t put my finger on it until just this very second.
Every time Grayson had looked at me with love and admiration, I could see deeper into his gaze, and there was something hiding behind that. At first, I chalked it up to the trauma of being ambushed by Vosch. But now, I could see exactly what the shadow lurking in his features meant—he believed our time together was running out.
Just like Dad in those final, precious weeks, when he’d looked at me with a love so fierce that it nearly hurt, when he’d known our time together was coming to an end, too.
And just like my dad, Grayson had kept it from me. Maybe it wasn’t fair of me to feel completely betrayed by that, especially when I knew he was doing it for my own protection, but I couldn’t believe he’d kept a secret like this.
“You should have told me.” My voice broke into a sob. “We should have faced this together.”
“I’m sorry, Ivy.”
“Do you not understand what this will do to me?”
Was this what life was about? Losing everyone you cared about and knowing that they died so that you could live? What kind of an existence was that?
“Please,” I begged. “Get on that plane with me.”
“Sir!” the agent shouted from behind.
Hunter’s warm voice was next, coming from the plane’s door. “Ivy. Come on.”
My shoulders sank with a fresh wave of hurt. “So, everyone knows what’s going on except for me,” I realized.
“Ivy.” Grayson stepped closer and cupped my face. I jerked away from his touch, but he was patient, waiting for me to stop resisting him before he held my face between his two hands. “Listen to me very carefully.”
Those mesmerizing sage-tinted eyes searched mine, and when he spoke, his voice was low and cool. “I have no intention of allowing myself to get killed.”
“But—”
“That being said,” he continued, “I know what I’m about to do is dangerous. But no one else can get close to Vosch, and until someone takes him down, everyone we care about will be in danger. Your mother, your grandmother.” His attention flickered to my lower abdomen, and he released one hand from my cheek, placing it over my belly. “And now, our child.”
His words hit me like a thunderbolt, sending shock waves of emotions through my body.
My hand instinctively covered his on my belly, and I felt a connection spark between us, more powerful than anything I’d ever experienced. In that touch, I sensed the future we’d dreamed of, the family we could build, all hanging by a thread in this moment.
Fresh tears welled, blurring Grayson’s face. I wanted to scream, to plead, to physically drag him onto that plane. But beneath my panic, a small voice whispered that this was who he was—the man I fell in love with, the protector, the one who’d sacrifice everything for those he loved.
“I can’t allow anything to happen to you,” he said. “Or our baby.”
My pregnancy declaration had the opposite of its intended effect; I could see it in his eyes that any hope of ever making him reconsider had burned to ashes. It would be a moment that I knew I would replay for the rest of my life, wondering what else I could have done, said, or not said, wondering if there had been any chance to save Grayson from what he was about to do.
“What if you just give Vosch what he wants?” It was a vile, repulsive thought, one I was ashamed I’d had for even a desperate second, let alone spoken out loud. Deep down, I didn’t mean it; I’d never want him to endanger other people by helping Vosch, but in that fleeting moment, I just wanted us to be alive together. No matter how selfish it might be.
“Ivy,” he said, “I would rather die, being the man that you deserve , than live a lifetime, being a monster unworthy of your love.”
His proclamation hung between us, carving a fresh hole in my heart, filled with equal parts heartbreak and love.
“The longer we sit here, the higher the risk of getting spotted,” the agent urged. “We need to get wheels up—now!”
I gripped his shirt, inhaling his scent, trying to commit it to memory.
“Be strong for me,” he cooed. “For our child.”
I felt like I was crumbling, barely holding myself together. “Please,” I whispered, my voice raw. “Don’t let our child grow up without a father.”
I saw the impact immediately. Grayson’s expression shifted, his eyebrows drawing together in a mix of pain and resolve. Too late, I realized my mistake.
“God, Grayson, I’m sorry,” I stammered, shame washing over me. How could I have been so careless? The wound of his own fatherless childhood was still bleeding, and I’d thoughtlessly prodded it. “I wasn’t thinking. I?—”
He cut me off, pulling me close with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity in his features.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and severe. “Both of you.”
And then he gently brushed his lips against mine.
His kiss was bittersweet—a moment of paradise, tainted by the fear that it might be our last. As I climbed the steps of the private jet, prioritizing our unborn child’s safety over my breaking heart, Grayson’s gaze followed me.
With one final look over my shoulder, I watched him walk away, each step feeling like a dagger to my soul. If he didn’t return, a big part of me would die along with him, and our unborn child and I would be left to face a world that seemed impossibly dark without Grayson in it.