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“No, we don’t!”
I headed for the living room. The three of them turned when I walked in, looking like a dream as always; even when I was pissed, there was a part of me that reacted to them. They exchanged a look.
"I want to see Greyson." My voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.
“Kennedy, I’m sorry,” Jack said, crossing the shadowy living room to wrap me up in his arms.
I let him wrap his big, muscular arms around me, leaning against his powerful chest—even though I wasn’t sure how much I could trust him right now. There was a fire crackling in the fireplace, casting Sebastian and Carter’s gorgeous faces in flickering shadows.
I’d trust the three of them with my life. But I loved and needed Greyson too, and right now, I felt like I couldn’t trust any of them with my heart.
“He did kidnap you before,” Sebastian said dryly, defending himself. “And I’m pretty sure he’ll feel more protective than ever right now.”
“I’m pretty sure I would be dead if he weren’t a possessive psychopath,” I reminded them.
Sebastian’s jaw worked in irritation. But after a second, he nodded. “I’m glad for that. But I don’t want him to try to take you away from us.”
A fierce edge had entered his tone. As if Greyson might try…but it would end badly.
Jack’s arms tightened around me, as if he’d heard the threat too and he wanted to protect me from the pain if these men continued to fight. Jack dropped a kiss in my hair. “Everything’s going to be alright.”
The memory of all those boxes piled up with pieces of my life they’d kept from me rose in my mind. Greyson had given me a reason: if they interfered, I might never regain my true memories for myself.
But it still felt wrong. The men who loved me shouldn’t keep so many secrets from me. Anger pulsed through me. They were so controlling.
“I’m going down to the lobby to talk to Greyson,” I told them. “And if you won’t let me go—”
“We’re not kidnapping you, Christ,” Jack said as if it were insane.
But Sebastian and Carter glanced at each other as if it weren’t out of the question.
Still, the guys agreed, reluctantly, and the four of us climbed into the elevator. It was a tense, silent ride down to the first floor.
The doors slid open, and a certain dark haired man was pacing away from me, his lean body tensely coiled in his dark suit as if he were on the verge of killing someone. I was surprised he’d been so patient.
“Greyson!” I called, rushing toward him.
He turned, his face lighting up.
Then I was in his arms, and he wrapped his arms tightly around me. His embrace was suffocating, yet comforting. "I was so worried about you."
"I’m okay," I assured him, trying to mask the uncertainty in my voice.
Was I okay?
Seeing the photo albums upstairs had made me feel so close to my past…and so shaky and unsettled. As if I were on the verge of something important and something easily lost.
As if these men had stolen something from me.
“Did you have someone following me?” I whispered.
Greyson nodded, some of the light dimming from his face.
The memory of the man sprawled across the pavement haunted me.
“He died.” My voice came out in a whisper. “Didn’t he?”
“Don’t waste a second thinking about that, baby,” Greyson told me. “Don’t be sad. There was nothing you could do. It took me so long to find out what happened, though…why didn’t you call me?”
