Chapter 35
Ava
I followed blindly, numbly after Grayson, my world spinning out of control.
What the hell am I doing? What is wrong with me? They are my friends. How can I do this to them?
Grayson shook my shoulders. I blinked his face into view.
“Breathe, Ava.” He looked worried. “I need you to keep it together, just for a few more minutes, okay?”
I nodded, realising I was hyperventilating.
“Look around. Tell me what you see.”
I tried to blink away the blurriness in my vision. “Corridor. Ugly blue walls. You.”
Grayson smiled. “Keep your eyes on me. Breathe.”
My chest eased at the familiar softness of his smile. It wasn’t the sneering, taunting one I had grown accustomed to seeing. This smile had always been magnificent. Otherworldly.
“We can go back,” Grayson said quietly. He held out a pair of cuffs to me. “You can still take me in.”
I pushed the cuffs away, righting myself. “I made my choice.” Even if it was the biggest mistake of my life. Even if it could mean my death. With Grayson I never knew. But wasn’t that part of the appeal? “Get us out of here.”
Before I can think too much. Before I fall apart completely.
Grayson grabbed hold of my hand and jogged to the end of the passage. He peered down the adjacent corridor and swiftly stepped back. He held his fingers to his lips, and I held my breath. Someone was coming.
Grayson rolled his shoulders back, grasping the cuffs firmly around his fist. His lips moved soundlessly as he closed his eyes in concentration. Was he counting?
With a sudden, powerful swing, Grayson struck out. To my surprise, his fist connected perfectly to the face of an unsuspecting agent, running down the corridor. The agent’s feet flung out from beneath him with the force, and he landed on his back with a thud. Out cold.
We ran down the corridor, slipping into a doorway.
A kitchen. It was deserted. Everyone must have evacuated when the fire alarm went off.
Grayson led us past a door with an exit sign, and into another larger room.
The museum cafeteria. There were metal tables and benches along the length of the room, but all were empty, except for the trays of abandoned food.
We almost made it to the doors when they swung open, four agents barrelling into the room.
Grayson did not hesitate, like the agents did, caught off guard by us.
In two smooth strides he was on top of a table, then leapt into the air, right into the group of agents.
He took the one in the middle down, as he landed—the agent’s head knocking backwards as Grayson’s boot connected with his face.
Grayson rolled when he hit the ground, then shot up, his knife digging deep into the forearm of another agent.
He used the knife to yank the agents arm down, and the man’s gun clattered to the floor.
The other agents charged forward, unable to shoot at Grayson, not wanting to risk shooting their own.
I caught the grin on Grayson’s face before the men crowded him.
Psychopath.
One of the agents dropped to the floor, his breath knocked from him. Grayson’s knife was still sticking out of his arm. Another gun skidded across the floor, and the man scurried towards it, still heaving for air.
Grayson didn’t seem to notice him as he fought the other two agents, moving so precisely and gracefully, it almost seemed like a dance.
I made my way over to the agent who had reached the gun, picking up a metal tray from a table and swung hard. The tray connected with his skull in a loud bang, and the man dropped like a sack of potatoes.
Did I swing too hard? Was he dead? Gods, I hoped not.
I turned back to see Grayson grinning at me. He had a gun to a kneeling agent’s head, who was somehow handcuffed to the other one that was already unconscious.
“That’s my girl,” he praised, mischief dancing in his eyes.
I let out a breath, my shoulders sagging in relief. He was okay.
Of course, he was. “Don’t you dare kill him.”
Grayson frowned down at the agent who was staring down the barrel of his gun. “Don’t worry. I’m not allowed to shoot anymore agents,” he grumbled, then swiftly struck the man across the head. The agent collapsed to the floor.
I checked to see if the agent I had hit was still breathing then gently removed Grayson’s knife from his arm, wiping the blood off the blade with his shirt. “Don’t forget your emotional support knife.” I handed it to Grayson.
“It’s yours, actually.” He smiled down at it, then pushed it back into his tactical belt.
“Mine?”
Grayson peered out the door, gripped my hand and led me into a stairwell. “You never even recognised it.”
We bounded up the stairs. “What do you mean?” Was he planning on going all the way to the roof? That was six flights of stairs!
“Faster, Princess. Or they will catch up to us.” Grayson gave a quick glance downwards.
I looked down too, and picked up my pace, my heart beating frantically against my ribs. About four levels down were a swarm of agents, making their way up towards us.
“You were at the Opera with the Andersons. Charles was talking business with another man in the hallway. You looked so adorably bored listening to their pompous conversation. You remember that?” Grayson asked in a hush tone, grinning like there wasn’t a truckload of agents on our tail.
I snorted an incredulous laugh. “Of course, you were there.”
He winked at me as we turned the corner of another flight of stairs and my stomach fluttered. “The man Charles was talking to had a little girl.”
“I remember. I made her a flower crown from the flower arrangement in the hallway, while we waited.” I panted softly.
We made it to the top. Grayson pushed the fire alarm button next to the door, and the sirens started blaring again. The door popped open. We stepped onto the roof.
Grayson closed the door behind us, then grabbed a thick iron pipe, probably left there by him, and jammed it into the door handle.
He pushed at the door a few times, making sure it stayed secure.
“You used the knife to cut some of the stems. Then you forgot it on the bench. Why did you carry a knife with you, anyway?” He looked at me curiously, like it had bothered him for years.
I laughed into the open air, my breath creating a cloud around me. I suddenly felt light, like I might float into the air if it wasn’t for Grayson’s grasp on my hand. “I always carried one with me. To take cuttings if I saw a plant I liked. You kept it?”
We came to a stop at the edge of the building. “It’s perfectly balanced. And it always brought me luck.” He tugged at a strand of my hair blowing in the breeze.
“That’s surprising. Stealing from a witch is usually bad luck,” I teased.
He dropped his forehead to mine, smiling from ear to ear. “Not if I was destined to pay her back with my soul.”
My stomach fluttered again. Tentatively, I reached up and touched him. I trailed my hand up his torso, until it rested over his heart. I felt the outline of Aegis pinned underneath his shirt. That made me smile, my heart warming. He covered my hand with his, holding me there.
“I missed you, little witch. It was hell without you,” he breathed.
“Don’t you see yet, darling? This is hell.” His last words to me in Volkov’s office, echoed in my mind. How had I missed it? It was on his face before he’d buried it under that cruel mask—the truth disguised as a taunt.
“Don’t you ever leave me again, Grayson Varon,” I choked out, shoving at his chest, my chin trembling with the helplessness I felt.
Nothing could stop him from doing it again.
How could I ever trust him again? I should be running.
As far away as I could possibly get from him to save my battered heart.
It wasn’t strong enough to lose him twice.
The door to the roof rattled, but Grayson paid it no mind. He plucked his knife from his belt and sliced it across his hand. He jerked my hand up and before I could object, he sliced the knife through my palm. He wrapped his hand around mine, pressing our two bleeding palms together.
He grabbed my jaw with his other hand, his fingers trembling as his eyes bored into mine. “A blood oath then.”
Something between a sob and a laugh escaped my throat. “With a witch?” I taunted through the tears.
One side of his mouth quirked up. “I’m well aware of the gravity of it, Ved’ma.”
“You better be. The gods will rip you to shreds if you break it.”
His hand tightened around mine. “Together or death.”
That invisible string between us tugged at my chest, pulling so tight I inhaled a sharp breath in surprise.
I held Grayson’s gaze, peering down those twisted eyes, feeling my chest fill with heat, with a lightness.
“Together or death,” I repeated, a whirlwind sweeping through us, carrying my words away.
Grayson watched my hair flying around us, laughing in wonder. “Gods, you’re a magnificent thing.” He crushed his lips to mine, sweeping me up into his arms.
My heart raced as if it wanted to reach for him through my ribs. I pulled him as tight as my arms could manage, fearing that it was all a dream. That I would wake up and he’d be ripped from my arms again. My mind was cruel like that.
There was hammering on the door, and Grayson reluctantly released me. “It won’t hold forever.” He dropped to his haunches and lifted a tarp, the same colour as the roof floor. It was so well camouflaged I hadn’t noticed it.
Under it was a black case.
“When did you plant this?” We had swept the whole place before dawn.
Grayson only smiled while he opened it. Inside was a grappling gun, one large enough that he had to pick it up with both hands.
“No way.” My stomach flipped. I looked over the edge of the building, but quickly clamped my eyes shut. I shouldn’t have looked.
Grayson chuckled and lifted the gun onto the concrete edge of the roof. He clamped it onto the balustrade, aimed and fired it off. The spike whirred across the sky, then plunged into a building two blocks away.