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“Did I get a text?” Torrin rasped, confused.
Greyson shook his head impatiently. “How many times have you followed us?”
“At least a couple times a week.”
My eyes widened at that, and I felt sick.
One of us had been with Kennedy every second, but still...to think that at any point someone was watching us, watching her.
How the fuck were we going to keep her safe?
“I thought I was watching out for her. It was on my official phone. I swear!” he cried, blood and saliva dribbling everywhere.
Greyson was either employing really dumb people, or this guy was a terrible liar.
Either way, he’d been watching us, watchingher.
And that was unacceptable.
Greyson listened to the man’s crap, useless secrets that he thought would save his life. He probably should have been doing a little less talking and a little more begging for his life since everything he was giving us was fucking pointless.
Greyson’s expression would have been unreadable to most people, a mask of indifference at first glance...but I knew him well enough to know how angry he was.
With a cold determination in his eyes, Greyson stared down at Torrin, wrapping the rope several times around his hand as he began to pull.
“What?! No! You said if I talked you wouldn’t—” Torrin’s words cut off as Greyson tightened the rope.
“I don’t believe I said any such thing,” Greyson said calmly. “Regardless of what your reason was for spying on me—I don’t employ idiots. And I certainly don’t employ moles. And you, Torrin...are one or both of those.”
Torrin’s cries came out as choked coughs, and I got more satisfaction than I wanted to admit at the fear in his gaze, the panic rising within him as he struggled against the suffocating pressure.
Greyson’s grip was relentless, his fingers like steel as he squeezed tighter, his expression devoid of any remorse. The man’s struggles grew weaker and weaker with each passing moment, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he neared the end.
It reminded me of how Kennedy’s disgusting stepfather had sounded at the end.
With a final, desperate gasp, Torrin fell silent, his eyes staring blankly into the void as his life slipped away. Greyson finally released his grip, staring at the dead body disinterestedly for a moment before he turned away.
“Fucking useless,” Greyson growled, picking up a metal tin and throwing it against the wall with a roar, the sound of it echoing around us.
Sunny shifted against the wall, obviously uneasy at his boss’s loss of control.
Greyson had always prided himself on that, whether it was out on the ice, or when we were doing jobs as teenagers.
It was probably good for Sunny to understand Greyson wasn’t messing around when it came to this. I’d never liked the guy—he was too far up Greyson’s ass.
Greyson didn’t bother saying anything as he stalked towards me, signaling with his chin it was time to go.
As we left the basement and started up the stairs, the memory of Torrin’s final cries echoing in my mind, I felt no satisfaction.
Every new piece of information we got was a dead end.
And as we returned to the main floor to get back to Kennedy, I was well aware that that darkness I’d once tried to run far away from, it was back in full force.
I would do anything to keep her safe.
Anything.
We walked into Sebastian’s room once we got back to the penthouse, the weight of our silence heavy between us. Greyson and I hadn’t exchanged a single word on the drive home, each of us lost in our own thoughts and regrets that we hadn’t found out anything to help put this danger to rest.
