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After what happened to them, I turned to studying psychology to better help those we save during missions.Usually, I can navigate through the crisis, offering comfort and counsel, but I also know the critical importance of immediate intervention.
“Grey, do you need your sponsor, a therapist?”I ask, using my most soothing voice, even when I’m a fucking mess on the inside.
His eyes are distant, as though peering into an unseen void.
“Grey, please,” I implore.“Talk to me.”
“I can’t ...I can’t breathe,” he chokes out, gasping for air like a drowning man.“I thought she was safe, tucked away in some forgotten town under a marshal’s protection or ...”
Knowing that I have to drag him out of his head, I ask, “Why do you think Enya had to write and publish this?”
He looks at me, his gaze lost and desperate, and shakes his head.“Aeryn,” he dares to say her name after all these years.It’s the first time I hear it.The five letters I’m most afraid of thinking or saying out loud.
Grey clears his throat.“Aeryn wanted everyone to know the truth, and so she did.I think ...I think she might have done it as an act of redemption and after that she took her own life too.Either after she handed over her diary or finished writing her biography.She couldn’t bear the weight of her loss, her guilt.”
Grey is probably right.If anyone would be able to find a little hope and some kindness inside Enya’s black heart, it’d be our little ballerina.My heart clenches at the confirmation that we lost our ballerina.But I push those emotions to the back, I have to focus on Greyson.
“Breathe, Grey,” I instruct gently, closing the gap between us and beginning to soothingly rub his back.“None of this was your fault.Or mine.Enya was disturbed, a casualty of her parents’ neglect.”
Grey scoffs, a harsh, bitter sound.“My uncle runs one of the best intelligence agencies.He managed to save me but left her behind.You were there and didn’t take her with you.She was ours to protect, and we failed her.What the fuck is wrong with that picture?”
I offer a helpless shrug.“He tried, Grey.Sometimes, there are limits to what we can do within The Organization.The agencies have more weight than we do.”
“And how do you know that?”
“You think I didn’t barge into his office the next day demanding he get her out?”I admit, rubbing a hand over my face, attempting to alleviate my rising frustration.“He nearly fired me on the spot.I was put on leave until a therapist certified that I was fit to work for The Organization.”
“You were?”
I can only nod.“That’s why I didn’t come to see you.I was falling apart at the seams.You needed a rock, and I was anything but.”
He makes a sound, a quiet, indistinct murmur I can’t quite decipher.
“What was that?”I inquire.
“I thought ...I thought you blamed me,” he admits, his voice barely more than a whisper.“I thought you couldn’t face me because I failed to protect her.”
I tap the book resting between us.“There’s not much you could’ve done under those circumstances, Grey.And yet, it’s clear you were ready to give up your life for her.”
“They shattered her to the point where she couldn’t see any light.She left us for good,” he mumbles.“If we’d been there, we could’ve reminded her that she was the light.Our sun.The brightest star in our universe.”
Before I have a chance to respond, Lang bursts into the cottage.
“This better be good,” I grumble, frustration sharpening my tone.
“We think we’ve located the person who gave the manuscript to the publisher,” he announces triumphantly.
“Do you think, or do you know?”I challenge him.“We just can’t go on a hunch.”
Lang shrugs a dismissive gesture.“Nate and Finnegan have been working non-stop to find out all the answers to your questions.The person lives in Queens.The apartment they lease is registered under a company name, and tracking them down has proven to be almost impossible,” he says, gesturing vaguely.“I instructed them to keep digging, but in the meantime, I’ve arranged for a jet to take you to this mystery person if you choose.”
“Just us?”I ask, knowing that Grey is about to lose his shit, and I don’t know if I can confront whoever published the biography while making sure he’s okay.
“No.As your legal representative, I’ll be accompanying you.We’re going to give them a hell of a fright for exploiting the personal diary of a deceased individual and the narrative of a decimated family.”
Although I appreciate his passion, I have to admit, “There wasn’t much ofher or usin there.”
Lang grins.“Oh, there is, but that’s why I bookmarked the pages.After the father’s death, Evie and her sister developed a bond.That’s when Evie opened up about the children she met in a music room and how they grew up to love each other.She described Hanford as her pillar of strength and Jet, her rock ...I think that was the sappy shit she said.You two saved her from her mother and a miserable childhood.”
