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Clearing my throat, I say, “Alana told me to talk to you about the night mom and Leslie were killed. She even said it was important. But I never fucking thought much about it. I don’t know why, and it seems stupid now. But I…” Trailing off, I swallow the lump of emotions clogging my throat.
Gray uses my silence to close the distance between us. Despite the anger in his eyes and sneer on his lips, he still manages to move slow enough I have time to stop him if I want to. But I don’t want to. Not now.
“Princess.”
The way his tongue rolls around that one word is enough to cause my breath to saw out of me. My shoulders sag, and instead of angry, I feel lost. So fucking lost.
He lifts his hand and gently runs his thumb down my cheek, keeping his touch so light I can barely feel it.
“You should feel angry with me,” he says. “I fucking failed you, and I’m sorry.”
“No, I—” Before I can finish my interjection, he slides his finger to my mouth and presses it against my lips.
“It’s my turn to talk now.”
When I look up at him, there’s a hint of a smile on his lips. It’s enough to make me relent, so I nod to show him I agree.
“On the surface, the bets were two bored assholes passing time. But Princess, it was more than that. I’m not going to give you pretty lies or ridiculous excuses, because I won’t fucking lie to you. But I wanted you before I fucking knew it myself.”
Pausing, he runs a hand through his messy waves. He closes his eyes for a brief moment, like he’s steeling himself for what he’s going to say next.
“So you’re right.” There’s so much pain in those words that I unconsciously shift closer to him, our bodies now touching everywhere. “I should have fucking known there was more to it for Gunner as well. I should have asked why he was so interested in you. There are many things I should have demanded answers about but never did.”
Nodding, I ask, “Like what?”
He lets out a humorless chuckle. “Like how come your dad knew to run just before we showed up after he drained our accounts completely?”
Before he can continue, I cut in. “You already told me that he said a laser was pointed at me…” Trailing off, I shake my head. Because that wasn’t true. “But that was a lie. We didn’t know that at the time, Gray.” I’m sickened by the lengths my dad’s gone to and the way he used me.
“Doesn’t matter what he said or didn’t say. I shouldn’t have been that quick to believe Brian,” Gray growls.
“What other things do you feel like you should have gotten answers to?” I ask, wanting to get us back on track.
“Why did Brian want you with us, the Kings? Now I fucking know he wanted you with Gunner,” he spits out the last part like the words are physically causing him pain.
My breath hitches, and I want to slap myself for not having thought about that. But now that Gray’s said it, it’s so painfully obvious that getting me here, to the Kings’ clubhouse, was part of his and Gunner’s plan.
Fuck. I really was just a commodity, not even treated or thought of as a person by my own fucking dad.
Oblivious to my turmoil, Gray goes on. “How come the Reapers have been able to thwart so many of our attempts at getting them? The list of questions goes on and fucking on. Rocco was so busy being suspicious of you, and I was so busy chasing you, neither of us saw what was right in front of us.”
Unable to stand any longer, I move over to the bed and sit down. Then I pat the empty space next to me, but Gray shakes his head. Instead of sitting next to me, he drops to his knees in front of me.
I try to open my legs so he can move between them. Not in a sexual way, but just so we can be closer. I can’t. I physically can’t fucking do it, and instead end up squeezing my thighs tighter.
A sob breaks free, and my entire body is shaking. I’m so fucking broken I can’t even… no. Fuck, no. I refuse to be this version of myself. Whoever I really am, it can’t be a broken down shell.
I. Fucking. Refuse.
Seeing my fight, Gray shuffles back until he’s out of reach. I can see my own pain reflected in his features, and it breaks my fucking heart that I’m like this.
He swallows thickly before asking, “What did Gunner do to you?”
I shake my head vehemently, denying him the answers I know he’s burning for.
“Please, Princess. I need to know. I… I have to know,” he begs.
Averting my gaze I look down at the floor as thoughts of my time with Gunner assault my mind. Now that I’ve gained some distance to the hell I was living, it all seems like a bad dream. Yet, as soon as his name is brought up, every scar he’s given me throbs with a phantom pain.
