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Grey glares at him.“Why didn’t you want us to read that?”
Lang simply shrugs.“You lived it.I didn’t see the need to subject you to reliving it through words.I was saving you time.”He taps his watch pointedly.“So, are we going, gentlemen?I’m hoping to get there first thing in the morning.”
I cast a look at Greyson, who gives a curt nod.“Perhaps this person still has the diary.I’d like to read the real one.It might be good for us.”
The mention of “us” sends a thrill through me, a rapid heartbeat of hopeful anticipation.Could this be his subtle way of offering a glimmer of hope?
The next sixhours pass as a blur as we fly from one coast to the other.Lang and I are with the lawyers, trying to figure out how to scare the culprit who published the biography.Maybe they won’t unpublish the book but will ensure that our names—and stories aren’t part of it.I couldn’t protect my ballerina, but I will protect Greyson at any cost.
When we land, there’s already a helicopter that takes us to the nearest helipad.From there, it’s a short drive to the apartment building in Queens.
“Are you okay?”I ask Grey.
He nods, his eyes distant.“During the flight, I spoke with my sponsor and therapist.I might need to drop by a psych ward afterward or rehab, but I’ll manage.”
And I wish he was joking, but I can see him on the edge of the cliff, ready to jump.I take his hand, grip it tight as if I can join his very soul to mine.A silent plea escapes my lips, a whisper in the void: “Don’t you dare leave me.”
I haven’t cried since the night after I helped rescue them.That memory, raw and jagged, brought a destructive urge to annihilate everything in its path.Today, the struggle to keep my tears at bay is immense.My heart aches for him, for all the horrors they endured in that apartment, for the loss of our woman—the most precious soul I’ve ever met.
Gently, I tap my chest, an effort to soothe my frantic heart, reminding it that I need to be the rock Grey can lean on.These moments, teetering on a knife’s edge, are critical for whatever decision he might have made about his future.
“Fourth floor,” Lang says, his gaze dropping to his phone.“I have to call Finn.He’s found something else.Try to reason with this person before we pull in the lawyers and crush them.”
A knot twists in my stomach as I notice the tremor in Grey’s hand.Swiftly, I encase it in my own, giving him a reassuring squeeze.“We’re in this together.I won’t let you go.”
“But you have to, if I ask you to do it,” he whispers back, his voice barely audible.“You promised that after this, you’d walk away.”
No, I said I would try my fucking best.I can’t promise to leave him.He just doesn’t get how much I still love him, does he?
“How can I convince you that I love you?”My voice comes out desperate.
“You’re going to have to give me time and space,” he murmurs as we ascend the stairs.“I’m just a step away from searching for a dealer or disappearing to somewhere safe.You can’t help me.Only I can do that, and you have to let me deal with it.”
“I’m trying,” I breathe out, my voice quivering.
Once we stand before the door to the apartment where we might find some answers, I suck in a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I get ready to knock.But it’s Greyson who steps forward, rapping his knuckles against the door.
As the door swings open, my blood runs cold.
