Chapter 9

S lamming the trunk of his cheap car closed, Grant forced his feet into motion. A sense of dread flooded him. Thanks to an invitation from Grant, Reginald was expected any minute. His boyfriend was pissed that Grant had been sick, so his mood would not be accommodating.

But that was too bad. Grant had to be resolute. They couldn't be intimate or Grant would risk throwing up on him again, so he had to let Reginald know their relationship was over. Confrontations didn't normally bother Grant, but he preferred them far away from his relationship. For nearly twenty years, he'd molded himself into the part-time boyfriend Reginald wanted.

Grant idly wondered what his teenage self would think of his life. At thirteen, he'd been eager to please and having the attention of an older boy had meant everything. Reginald had been kinder but eager to assert his opinions on how Grant should dress and act, and what path his future should take.

Those should have been warning signs. But Grant's entire life had been tumultuous. It'd been a relief to hand control to someone else—someone Grant had believed had his best interests at heart. From the start, Grant's fear of losing Reginald had outweighed his own self-preservation.

It was too late now to wonder how things could've been different. Grant couldn't erase the past two decades. He wasn't sure he wanted to either. There had been some good times, and Grant wasn't sure what he would've done without Reginald's money and advice.

With a heavy sigh, Grant stopped at the elevator bank and hit the button to get upstairs. Perhaps what he feared most was his plan failing. Grant was terrified that he'd relent and spend the next day unpacking his car so he could stay with Reginald. He'd have some serious making up to do, and he'd have to find a way to deal with the Roman situation.

Meeting the fallen knight had forced Grant's hand. Or maybe that was the kick in the ass he needed. Yes, Grant had been making plans to leave. But the truth was, he'd done that before. It had never gone past the planning stage, but it wasn't as if Grant had suddenly realized he was unhappy. Things had long ago slid out of his control.

He mourned the career he'd been building. Grant hated that his reputation was in tatters. Once, he would've considered himself a noble person. Someone who wanted to help. But assisting Reginald had outweighed his valor. He'd sacrificed every part of himself he'd liked to ensure Reginald had what he wanted. It was horrifying. And sad.

A strength Grant hadn't known he possessed rushed through his veins. As he stepped off the elevator, he promised himself he'd leave. No matter what, Grant would walk out and stand on his own two feet. Supposedly, there was a fallen knight out there somewhere waiting for him.

Grant shook his head, and he let himself into his condo. The situation with Roman and what that meant for his life was too much to think about. There was so much more to learn. Grant couldn't do anything until he understood the Council and Roman's world. The last thing Grant wanted was to leave one controlling man and find himself with another one.

Needing to center himself, Grant walked through the apartment as if seeing it for the first time. He hated it. The bedroom was full of memories he wanted to vanquish. If there had been love in Reginald's heart, it had died long ago. What Grant did in that bed was service a man interested in his desires and not his lover's.

There were few memories anywhere else. They didn't share meals. Unless Reginald wanted Grant's help with something, they didn't discuss his job. Reginald had plenty to say about Grant's career and lack of motivation, but his own was off limits. Grant refused to ask about Reginald's wife and children. Thankfully, Reginald never brought them up. Reginald had parents and other relatives, but Grant had never met them.

The sound of the front door halted Grant in his tracks. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths in a vain effort to center himself.

It didn't help.

Reginald turned the corner toward the bedroom and stopped short so he didn't barrel into Grant.

"What the fuck are you doing in the hallway?" Reginald asked, quickly regaining his composure. He already had his belt undone. His tie was loose, and he'd probably tossed his jacket on the stiff white couch on his way through the condo.

"I want to talk to you."

Reginald frowned. "I hardly think that's appropriate. Thanks to your supposed illness, I haven't had your ass in weeks. Get in the bedroom and take off…what the hell are you wearing?"

Instead of slacks and a button-down, Grant was in jeans and a T-shirt. Reginald hated when Grant wore anything he hadn't purchased for him.

"Clothes, Reg. I'm wearing clothes."

"You look like shit." As if he had every right, Reginald stepped close and reached for Grant's jeans.

Grant took a healthy step backward. "I told you we need to talk."

"That's not why I'm here and you know it."

"I understand what you want, but this won't wait."

"I don't like your tone."

Normally, Grant would back down the second Reginald's scowl appeared and his tone grew icy. But he had to be brave. Without a word, Grant straightened his spine and forced himself to brush past Reginald to the living room.

"Where the fuck are you going?" Reginald asked.

Grant pivoted once his sneakered feet hit the white area rug.

"We need to talk," Grant repeated.

"How many times do I have to tell you that's not happening?"

A shiver slithered along Grant's spine at the fury growing in Reginald's voice. Reginald hated being corrected. He despised Grant standing up to him. In the past, Grant had paid for his decision to push Reginald into doing something he didn't want. Reginald would ignore him for weeks. Or demand twice as many sexual favors while depriving Grant of any opportunity to have a release of his own.

Shaking off his memories, Grant steeled himself for Reginald's explosion.

"I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore," Grant said. He cleared the sudden thickness from his throat. "I'm leaving."

"You're what?" Reginald asked with deadly calm.

A knot formed in Grant's belly. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, but I want something different for myself."

"Something different?" Reginald asked, advancing closer to Grant.

"Yes. You have a wife. Children. The job of your dreams. All I do is pry into the lives of innocent people so you can get criminals off. I need to find my purpose. This isn't it."

"Don't bring my family into this, you ungrateful shit. Do you think your hole is so perfect that anyone else will want it? I've been doing you a favor all these years. You aren't going anywhere, and you know it, so what is this about? Tell me what you want. Then get your ass in the bedroom and get naked. You better be fucking lubed up."

Without thinking, Grant took a step back. Unfortunately, the kitchen was behind him instead of the front door. To escape, he had to get past Reginald. He'd already done it once, Grant reminded himself. He had bypassed Reginald in the hallway. All he had to do was find the courage to leave behind everything he knew.

"I'm not having sex with you again," Grant said. It came out barely louder than a whisper, and he internally cursed himself for being a coward. "It's over."

"The fuck it is. I decide when it's done, and although I've had better ass than yours, I'm not done with you yet."

"Who else were you with?" Grant asked stupidly. "We've been together since you were seventeen."

Reginald laughed, and the raucous sound forced a shudder from Grant. "You can't possibly be that na?ve. You never asked for my loyalty, and I'm not in the habit of giving in to your ridiculous demands anyway. Of course there have been other men. I'm married for Christ's sake. You know you aren't the only one I've slept with."

For some reason, Grant had convinced himself Reginald had married because of his family. Every illusion he'd created through the years flashed through his mind, and Grant cursed his own stupidity. He was an idiot. A spineless one who'd allowed Reginald to use him. Hope for any future happiness flittered away, and Grant's heart sank. It was overtaken by pure rage. Grant had done everything Reginald had asked, and he'd believed his boyfriend had some loyalty to him. Apparently not.

"Then you should be happy you no longer have to pay my mortgage," Grant snapped as fury surged through him. "You can fuck whoever you want. Maybe you'll keep this place so you can bring your boys back here so your wife doesn't find out what a shit you are."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

Refusing to give in to fear, Grant lifted his chin. His life was shit, but he wanted to be the one responsible for his poor decisions. "You heard me. I convinced myself I needed you, but I don't. I'm tired of being used. I've done what you've said since I was a teenager. It was easier than figuring myself out. But now I want that chance. I need to know who I am."

"What you are is a user. It was all about the money for you, wasn't it? You met someone else, didn't you?" Reginald demanded, stealthily closing the distance between them. Grant sucked in a breath as Reginald charged into his personal space. Reginald grabbed his arm in a painful grip. "Who is he? How many times have you handed your ass over to him under the roof I pay for?"

That chance meeting with Roman flittered through his mind. He wasn't sure what the future held with the fallen knight, but if he was anything like Reginald, Grant didn't want shit to do with him. Mates and forever were fantasies. Reginald had proved love was meaningless. Grant was too smart to fall into another trap.

"I haven't been with anyone else."

"What kind of fool do you take me for?" Reginald screamed. "I can see the truth in your eyes. You betrayed me. No one betrays me."

Grant barely managed a gasp of shock as Reginald punched him in the nose. A sickening crack reached his ears as Grant landed on his ass. Warm blood flowed onto his lip, but Grant had no chance to swipe it away. Reginald pounced on him, and the blows rained down.

While he was doing his best to fend Reginald off, he was no match for the enraged man. He'd skipped workouts for months, and Reginald was in a blind rage, which was giving him what had to be superhuman strength. Grant sucked in a strangled breath as Reginald's fingers wrapped around his throat.

Grant had miscalculated. He understood that now. Helplessly, he grabbed Reginald's arms, but his ex-boyfriend squeezed harder. Reginald's face was beet red, and his eyes blazed with murderous fury.

Blackness darkened Grant's vision. Kicking his feet, Grant willed himself to find a way to get Reginald off him. But Reginald was too strong—as was his anger.

His brown eyes were filled with fury. Reginald's mouth was a tight white line of determination. Color was high on his cheeks, but he was far from beautiful in that moment.

Grant could feel consciousness slipping away. Reginald sat on his chest, and the pressure on Grant's neck grew.

Stupidly, he wondered if he'd die as Reginald choked the breath from his lungs.

Grant didn't want his life to end. But Reginald had never cared about his wants or desires. With all the strength he had, he fought, but it did nothing to change his horrible predicament. Reginald would not budge, and he didn't loosen his grip.

There was no yelling. Nothing filled the air but Reginald's heaving.

Closing his eyes, Grant escaped into the darkness. He was losing consciousness, but he'd wake soon. Grant would take his ass straight to a hospital. File charges against Reginald. Get away from him forever.

Adrenaline surged through Grant as he tried again to free himself. But there would be no escape.

Terror and desperation replaced his mad fight for life.

The world faded to black. Then it was all over.