Chapter 14

fourteen

I moved slowly, my footsteps heavy and labored as I limped through the house. I tried to ignore the nagging fear that something was terribly, irreparably wrong with me. My rapid healing and the inexplicable attraction to Grayson haunted my every thought. It was as if this damned town and the secrets my mother had tried to hide were conspiring against me.

As I stepped into the library, my hand reached out, trailing along the shelves. I searched for any hidden compartments, any clues that could help me unravel the darkness that engulfed my life. My fingers grazed over the spines of books, their titles long forgotten, each one a silent sentinel guarding the truth I so desperately sought.

Then, my hand stopped on a thick volume. I pulled it out, my breath catching as the movement sent a spike of pain through my injured body. I gritted my teeth, determined to ignore the pain, telling myself that I needed to be strong, that I had to keep going.

That's when I heard it—a soft, rhythmic tapping, like metal gently caressing stone. I froze, holding my breath to better hear the sound over the rushing blood in my ears. It was coming from outside, drawing closer with each tap.

With cautious movements, I made my way to the window, careful to stay out of view. I peered through a small gap in the curtains, my heart pounding in my chest. My eyes widened at the sight that greeted me. A figure stood at the edge of the yard, his form silhouetted against the pale moonlight. He was tall, his body cloaked in darkness, but I could make out the glint of a blade in his hand. It shimmered in the moonlight, a sinister promise of violence.

I felt a chill run down my spine, an icy tendril of fear unfurling within me. This wasn't Grayson. The figure remained still as if sensing my gaze upon him. I held my breath, afraid that even the slightest sound would draw his attention.

Then, as if compelled by my unspoken fear, the figure tilted his head, an eerie mimicry of my own movement. My breath caught in my throat as he began to move toward the house. His speed was terrifying—a blur of darkness crossing the distance in an instant. I scrambled back from the window, my heart hammering so hard I thought it might break free from my rib cage.

I barely had time to lock the door before I heard the crash. The figure had shattered the door frame, wood splintering under his immense force. I backed away, and my eyes widened in terror as he stepped into the house. His movements were a graceful, deadly dance—each step purposeful, calculated to corner me and inflict maximum fear.

The intruder lunged, moving with blinding speed. I scrambled back, my injured pelvis screaming in protest. The pain was a searing, white-hot brand, but I forced myself to keep moving. I darted into the kitchen, my heart pounding so hard it echoed in my ears. My hand reached for a knife on the counter, the cold, hard metal a small reassurance that I might have a chance.

He followed, his eyes never leaving me. I was his prey, and he was determined to savor the hunt. "Who are you?" My voice came out in a hoarse rasp, surprising me with its weakness. "What do you want?"

Silence.

Just like Grayson, this man remained quiet, his face shrouded in shadow. But his eyes... they glowed with an unearthly light, piercing the darkness and sending a chill down my spine. I knew, in that moment, that I wasn't facing a man but a monster. A creature born from the depths of humanity's darkest nightmares.

He lunged again, and I stumbled back, feeling the sharp sting of pain in my side. I cried out, more from the shock of it than the physical hurt. But the intruder showed no mercy. He advanced, each step calculated to drive me further into the room, to back me into a corner where I'd have nowhere to run.

I could feel the hard edge of the counter against my legs, a solid barrier that offered little comfort. I knew I was trapped, cornered like an animal with no escape. The figure moved closer, his blade gleaming, reflecting the moonlight in a mocking imitation of the stars.

I closed my eyes, steeling myself for the inevitable impact. I expected to feel the cold bite of the blade slicing through my skin, ending my life in an instant. Instead, a deafening roar filled the room, and the weight of the intruder was suddenly lifted from me.

Dazed, I opened my eyes, struggling to process what was happening. In front of me stood Grayson, his mask askew, his eyes wild and furious. He snarled, a feral sound that echoed through the room, and lunged at the man. But it was too late; the intruder had vanished without a trace.

Grayson turned to me, his gaze intense. For the first time, I felt truly seen by him. Not as a plaything or a victim, but as someone he needed to protect. His silence was almost suffocating as he stared at me, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath his tattered clothing. Then, with swift, efficient movements, he began to repair the shattered door, as if sealing us away from the horrors that awaited outside.

I sank to the ground, my back against the counter, my body trembling. The room around me seemed to blur, the adrenaline crashing through my veins as I tried to process what had just happened. I was shaking—whether from fear or shock, I wasn't sure.

But one thought cut through the haze: Grayson had saved me.

I looked up at him, his broad back turned to me as he secured the broken door, his movements quick and efficient. My breath caught. This was the same man who had shattered my body, who had torn into me with all the brutal force of a predator marking his territory. Yet now, that same raw power had been wielded to protect me.

Why? Why would he do that?

I could still feel the pain from the time he'd taken me against the wall—the jagged, awful ache that had lingered long after he was done. I remembered the way I'd screamed, the way he hadn't stopped until I was utterly wrecked and helpless. He was a monster, wasn't he? Just another vicious, merciless creature in this hellish town.

But when that intruder had come for me, when I'd been cornered, staring death in the face… he'd been the one to intervene. He'd thrown himself at that man like he was willing to tear him apart just to keep me safe.

A shudder ran through me as I struggled to make sense of it. The logical part of my mind screamed that this was just another ploy, another twisted game to keep me dependent on him. I shouldn't feel gratitude. I shouldn't feel this surge of relief just because he'd stopped someone else from hurting me.

Yet, I did. Despite everything—despite knowing that Grayson was as much my tormentor as my savior—I felt… changed. It was like something deep inside me had shifted, a crack forming in the walls I'd built around myself. He'd hurt me, broken me, but now he was piecing me back together in ways I couldn't begin to understand.

My hands clenched into fists as a swirl of conflicting emotions washed over me. Anger, confusion, something dangerously close to gratitude—all of it warred within me. What did that say about me? About what I was becoming?

No. I shook my head, a spark of defiance flaring in my chest. I wouldn't let myself fall into that trap. I couldn't start seeing him as anything more than what he was—a dangerous, violent force that could turn on me at any moment. But even as I told myself that, even as I tried to hold onto my fear and hatred, I knew it wasn't that simple anymore.

Because Grayson had saved me. And no matter how much I wanted to deny it, some small, treacherous part of me felt safe in his presence. Safe… and something far worse. Something that felt a lot like need.

I dragged my gaze away from him, forcing myself to focus on the throbbing pain in my body rather than the way my pulse sped up when his eyes briefly met mine. This wasn't a rescue. It couldn't be. I wouldn't let myself think that way.

He wasn't going to let me die. No, not unless he could be the one to kill me.