Gray stared at me, his blue eyes probing, reading my thoughts. I cleared my throat and moved my attention from the dirt, to the mausoleum. I felt along the edges of the cement, for the loose cracks and border, then tugged.
Oh my God.
“It has a false back!”
I tugged harder, trying to get the small cement piece out.
My uncle was always a fan of Agatha Christy, of secret tunnels, false walls, and hiding spaces…maybe that’s why he enjoyed working here so much.
Maybe I should have noticed Grayson and West were no longer beside me, but how could I? Excitement crept into my chest as I pulled the square out, revealing a dark hole in the mausoleum. Maybe this was it—the end. Just as the excitement grew, it plummeted into a rock in my gut.
Nothing.
Well, not nothing. I fingered the dusty, square outline where something had been.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered, pulling my fingers back, covered in dust and cobwebs.
“You kissed her?” Gray growled.
I spun at Gray’s words, uncertain what had preceded them, but knowing what came next wouldn’t be good. They’d stood up and now towered above me. West leaned against a mausoleum, one leg propped. Grayson leaned toward him, fists clenched.
“Someone had to give her a New Year’s kiss,” West said.
I slowly stood to my feet. Gray stared at me, waiting for me to tell him that West was full of shit. Tears burned the corner of my eyes and I slowly shook my head, lips parting, but only silence came out.
His brows caved, and he looked away.
He was hurt.
My heart split open.
This was not a secret I planned on keeping. It only happened hours ago, I’d been assaulted in the meantime, and then we came here. I think maybe I leaned into the distractions, because now that wound was open again. Raw. Bleeding.
West laughed. “She wanted it.”
I wanted to be strong. I wanted to tell West to shut the fuck up, but it was all I could do to keep from crying.
Gray’s attention swerved back. He rolled his neck, the deadly, cold look I knew too well darkening his blue eyes.
I planted myself between them. “Wait, just…wait.”
Jaw clenched, Gray exhaled—pissed I was choosing West. But this wasn’t for West, it was Grayson’s bloody knuckles. For the bruises blackening his body when he snuck out to see me. He didn’t think twice about hurting himself for me, so someone had to.
West wasn’t worth it.
I wasn’t worth it.
West grabbed my hips, yanking me to his chest, lips to my neck. “Didn’t you, Angel. Your groan was so fucking hot.”
Grayson’s mouth hooked to one side venomously and he laughed, but it was caustic and without humor.
Then he reached over my shoulder and grabbed West by the back of his neck. “Stop using her as a shield. Let her go so you can bleed.”
I was sandwiched between them, the sky aglow with the new year, but my nose was filled with the scent of decay. Grayson’s breath heated my forehead, his chest pressed against mine, and I was too aware that he wasn’t looking at me.
West rubbed his cock against my ass. “I like her between us too much.”
Grayson snapped. He slammed West’s head into the mausoleum and West let me go on a sharp inhale. I stumbled free. Still without looking at me, Gray shoved me behind him, his grip on my arm tight.
“The only thing stopping me from fucking ending you right now is her. The minute that changes, I’ll get my knuckles bloody with you.”
West grinned, rubbing the back of his head. “Promises.”
I blinked. What did that mean? He was waiting for me?
“You’re so perfect together,” West goaded. “You must tell each other everything. Like…who I’m marrying.”
I assumed West was just trying to get into my veins, lying as usual. So I scoffed. I believed Grayson wouldn’t have kept something so big from me.
But Grayson stiffened.
And suddenly a knot formed in my gut.
West leaned to the side to see me behind Grayson and grinned. “It’s Gemma.”
The knot twisted. “You’re lying. You said your fiancée knew the deal, that she was okay with it. Gemma already has a fiancé.”
West arched his brow. “I told you in Scotland you were putting your eggs in the wrong basket, Angel. Why don’t you ask Grayson if I’m lying?”
Grayson, who’d been silent for the past few seconds.
Whose grip on my arm squeezed.
“He’s lying, right?”
Having to marry his sister off to a monster would kill Grayson.
“This isn’t going to work.” Grayson spat blood onto the dirt. “We’re done.”
He pulled me toward Crowne Hall, as if to drag me out of the cemetery. I gasped for air—he lied.
He fucking lied.
I fought back, digging my heels in. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
He dropped me and spun, eyes wild. “Why don’t you tell me your secrets, Snitch?”
There it was again, that cryptic look.
That vicious anger on his tongue.
I don’t understand.
“I tell you everything!” I yelled.
Grayson shoved his tongue into his cheek, looking away like I’d just fucking spat at him.
Behind us, West laughed. “Tell her the whole truth, Grayson. Even if you find the coin, there is no leaving Crowne Hall, is there?”
Grayson’s gaze shifted over my shoulder, murderous, but he doesn’t say no.
He doesn’t. Say. No.
Thirty-Eight
STORY
I had to get out of here. I was outside, but…there was no air. Grayson gripped my wrist, yanking me to him like he saw the words in my head.
I want your throat raw. I want it to hurt, so every time you speak, you feel the secrets you’re keeping from me.
“You hypocrite.” I pulled at my wrist. “I expect West to lie to me. But you? Does your throat hurt every time you speak, Grayson Crowne?”
He looked away. “It’s not as simple as West is making it seem.”
“Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me? You said you wanted honesty. Bloody. Raw. Jagged. Truth. You are a hypocrite, Grayson Crowne.”
I tugged and tugged on my wrist, but he wouldn’t let me go. Instead, he pulled me closer, blazing eyes looking down at me from his rigid nose. The square of his jaw somehow sharper.
Not fair.
That he was somehow more handsome when he’s hurt me so badly.
“It’s not that fucking simple,” he growled. “I have a plan B. That’s all.”
I could see my breath heating the cold night, but it wasn’t coming back.
Stolen.
“Plan B?” I gasped. “What do you mean plan B?”
“What if we don’t find it, Snitch? What if we find it and…” He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth.
In that moment, the puzzle pieces clicked together. I should have seen the signs. It was always there. In his sad eyes. In those cryptic comments. He wouldn’t risk me, he never could.
And this was only risk.
“Do you want us to stay?”
“No. Not us.”
“You would send me away—” I stumbled back, and he pulled me back to him by my wrist so hard I had to plant my palms on his chest for stability. “You would sacrifice yourself—”