Page 28 of Allie
"I could ask you the same," he countered, but his eyes were on me, holding a glint of something that suggested he already knew more than he let on. "But since we’re not playing twenty questions, here’s the deal—I've been keeping tabs on Doyle for a while. His late-night escapades didn't exactly scream 'property manager' duties."
"Define 'a while,'" Asa interjected, arms crossed, his tone suggesting he wasn't in the mood for evasiveness.
"Long enough to know that Doyle’s been up to his neck in things no law-abiding citizen should be." Grant's gaze flickered to Roan, who had positioned himself protectively close to me. There was an unspoken understanding between them.
"Like what?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady despite the way my pulse thrummed in my ears.
"Let's just say that our dear Doyle had a side gig that involved more than just collecting rent checks," Grant continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "He's been dabbling in some seriously dark stuff—stuff that’s gotten people hurt. But he got greedy, which led to his death."
"Someone close to you?" The question slipped out before I could stop it, the words tasting like ash on my tongue.
Grant looked away, and I sensed a story there, one that churned with painful memories.
I shuffled my feet, uneasy as Grant's gaze held mine. The air in the cramped apartment living room felt electric.
"Grant?" I prodded gently, watching as he took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling beneath his fitted shirt. It was clear that whatever he had to say weighed heavily on him.
He exhaled slowly, and when he spoke, his voice was laced with a different kind of ferocity—one that came from a place of deep pain. "My sister," he began, and the simple utterance of those two words carved a line between before and after. "She was murdered."
The room seemed to close in, the walls inching nearer with each syllable. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and comfort him, but I sensed he didn’t want that right now.
"The police ruled it a suicide, but I know better. She was full of life, had plans...and fears about the cult." His eyes darkened. "I think her death is tied to what happened to Doyle. They both knew too much."
A shiver traced its icy fingers up my spine. The severity of the situation hung over us like an ominous cloud, ready to burst at any moment. Grant's revelation stirred something primal within me—a protective instinct twined with the need for justice for his sister.
Before I could offer any words of comfort or support, Grant leaned closer, his face etched with a vulnerability that made my heart race. My other guys tensed but didn’t intervene. "There's something else I have to tell you, Allie." His voice dropped to a near-whisper.
"Ever since I first saw you at the gym," he said, a half-smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of our conversation, "I haven't been able to get you out of my head."
His confession hit me like a bolt of lightning. A smile formed on my lips. He felt the attraction, too.
"Grant," I breathed out.
"Sorry, I just... I had to be honest with you," he added quickly, almost tripping over his words, a blush creeping up his neck.
I caught Draven’s narrowed eyes. Roan’s jaw was set, his protective stance a tangible force around us, while Asa’s fingers twitched.
"Alright, everyone just... take a breath," I said, though it was more for my benefit than theirs.
Grant watched our collective unease with that same analytical gaze he used when dissecting cult patterns. "I'm not here to cause any rifts," he assured, but his eyes stayed fixed on mine, unspoken words hanging between us like a dare.
"Nobody's casting you out, Grant," Draven finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "But we've got a tight circle here. Trust doesn't come easy."
"Especially with everything at stake," Roan added.
"Let's just say your timing could've been better," I muttered, trying to swallow down the lump forming in my throat. The air was thick with suspicion and the sharp tang of magic, a reminder of the dark forces at play beyond these walls.
"Timing never was my strong suit," Grant conceded with a rueful grin. His attempt at levity fell flat, suffocated by the gravity of our predicament.
"Fine, let's put it to a vote," Asa suggested, ever the mediator.
Heads nodded, and one by one, they voiced their trust—or rather, their willingness to extend it tentatively. Their gazes flickered to me for the final say, and I knew my instincts and right now they said I could trust Grant.
"Okay, Grant," I said, feeling the conviction solidify within me. "You're in. But we keep an eye on each other—no secrets, no lies."
"Agreed," he replied, and something in his tone told me he meant every word.
Together, we dove into the documents we'd filched from the cult gathering, papers littered with cryptic symbols and coded language. The musty smell of old parchment filled the room as we pored over each page, searching for the thread that would unravel Doyle's connection to the cult and the way he was killed.