Page 9

GRAYSON

I remain in the same spot on the sofa until night falls over my fucked up life, and I stare into the blackening world outside the window. Should I leave? But I have no clue what’s happening or what could be waiting for me away from this isolation.

I’d toyed with the idea of heading back to the academy, if only to check if Violet returned or not. Maybe I’ll ‘do a Dashiell’ and sneak onto campus at night to find her. Yeah, I’m not that dumb—as if Grayson Petrescu caught roaming the academy at night would be any better than this situation.

Fucking useless phone. I toss the thing into the empty fireplace then startle at a chuckle behind me.

“Useful contraptions, until they don’t work.”

An invisible icy finger runs down my spine.

Josef.

I spring to my feet and turn to him. He isn’t dressed in his usual bespoke suit, and he’s alone, but the sight of his angular face and Petrescu green eyes trigger my mingled fear and hatred for this bastard.

He taps his lips and then gestures. “Whose blood is on your hands? Have you slipped up again, Grayson? Knew that I’d find you and decided not to play hide and seek?”

“No,” I say sharply. “I don’t have blood on my hands.”

“Mmm. Did nobody teach you to clean beneath your nails?”

He’s blocking the door. I take a steady breath and look to the window: that could be an escape route. “How did you know I was here?”

“Grayson, Grayson.” He steps around the sofa to swallow the space between us, and I brace myself for an assault. “I have eyes everywhere.” He pulls his phone from a pocket. “And ears. I received a call from Mr. Sawyer a few hours ago.”

“Shit. Is Kai okay? I didn't do anything to him,” I say quickly.

Josef’s lips tip at one corner as he slides his thumb across the phone screen. “Kai is unharmed. However, authorities keep his father up to date on… goings-on in town, and, in turn, Christopher informs me.”

Crap. “I bet he does.”

“Apparently, police found another body in the woods today. Male.” His unblinking gaze remains on me. “Attacked in a similar manner to the human girl from your academy, only this time the attacker took his heart.”

I suppress the images of this morning before Josef can drag them from my mind. “A human victim?”

“I’m unsure. Christopher doesn’t have all the information. Yet. There’s an issue with identifying the man since the killer lacerated his face too.” Josef slants his head, waiting for my reaction. “Would you know anything about this murder, Grayson?”

Lacerated face? Dash didn’t stick around long enough to injure him in that way, and Viktor’s features were intact when I slammed a hand through his ribs. Eloise?

“If the attack matched Holly’s, that’s a shifter’s handiwork. I don't spend time with shifters.”

“We shall wait for DNA results. Such useful progress the humans made over the years.” Josef slides his phone away. “Is the victim the witch from the warehouse?”

“Huh?” I blink at the sudden question.

“The one who survived on the night you made a mistake by betraying me. Did Adam Woodlake escape Dorian’s custody? I've certainly not heard from him since the night Viggo died. Such tragic events.” He waves a hand. “Not that I’m close with the witches any longer.”

Any longer? “I don't know who died, Josef.”

I back up as Josef steps closer, his nose almost touching mine. “I don’t like when you lie to me, Grayson.”

“I’m not.”

Josef strikes, fingers curling around my throat as he slams me against the wall, my head singing as it hits the drywall. I’ve avoided him longer than I expected but never thought he’d come to the cottage without a reason. Isn’t the bastard hiding from Dorian?

“And I never thought you’d come here, Grayson,” he spits, immediately in my face. “To risk returning to this place, you must fear someone else far more than you fear me. Dorian Blackwood?” His nose wrinkles. “I can’t smell his daughter’s blood mingled with yours. So, what upset the man?”

“I was born?” I suggest.

Josef sneers and yanks my head back by the hair. “Tell me who died, Grayson. That’s witch blood on your hands.”

“I don't know who the victim is,” I say, eyes watering as he pulls harder.

“How badly do you want me to hurt you?” he whispers in my ear, words he’s used before, many times. The phrase pulls me back through time, the automatic terror flooding my veins. “How badly do you want my protection from Dorian Blackwood?”

I suppress my derision. Josef still thinks he can take on Dorian and win? Even after the pair’s confrontation at Kai’s party, when Dorian easily subdued him?

Josef drops his hold on my hair, then he shoves me away from the wall. I stagger but manage to catch myself against the sofa. Before I can straighten, he’s in my face, gripping my jaw in a bruising hold, forcing my head back.

“I hear your thoughts, Grayson. How dare you look down on me.” His fingers dig into my skin. “You forget who you’re dealing with.”

He releases my jaw, only to deliver a sharp backhand across my face. Pain explodes along my cheekbone, and I taste blood. I barely have time to register the numbness before he grabs me again, his thumb pressing into the hollow of my throat, testing my pulse beneath his grip.

“Who is the dead witch, who killed him, and why is his blood on you? Did somebody threaten the Blackwood girl, and you lost your temper again?” I open my mouth, and he interrupts. “Yes, I know that you killed at witch at Sawyer’s lodge.”

How?

Josef’s behavior is heading in a direction that will end with me badly injured.

I lunge, nails tearing into his face in a desperate attempt to knock him off guard and escape.

A normal vampire might have flinched. Josef doesn’t.

I may have Petrescu strength against others, but with Josef I may as well be a weak child fighting an adult.

He slams his knee into my gut, knocking the wind from me.

I stagger, choking, and Josef shoves me against the wall, fisting my collar, twisting the fabric, and cutting off oxygen.

My vision wavers, dark dots creeping in as I struggle to stay upright.

Josef snatches my arm, fingers digging into my wrist, eyes meeting mine as he clicks his tongue. “You’re such a disappointment, Grayson Petrescu .”

Pain screams along my skin as his nails rake across the vein, deep enough that a sudden, slickness coats my skin. Blood surges from the wound, spilling over his hands, but he will not hear me cry in pain.

Josef is practiced at this, acting with speed, inflicting a cruel, shallow slice along the inside of my forearm. Just enough to keep the blood flowing but not enough to end things quickly. His technique. Allow me to bleed out, not die immediately.

“Anything to tell your uncle?” he asks.

I’m dizzy, weaker than ever, terrified he’ll slash at my throat next, but he takes my other arm and swiftly repeats the attack.

I gasp for air as he lifts me by the neck, black eyes on mine.

Last time he killed me, Josef ended by holding me still and watching as my veins emptied, his face the last thing I saw as I left the world.

Blood runs along my arms to the floor, and the subservient terror ingrained in me rises.

Josef’s response is insane. He doesn’t care about witches. What the fuck is happening here?

“Happening? You know what I’m doing,” he says softly.

Killing me.

“Viktor,” I mumble. “Whitegrove.”

Josef drops his hold, and I sink to the floor. He stares at me. “What did you say?”

“Viktor Whitegrove.” I hold fingers against the open vein on my wrist, concentrating on slowing my heart.

His mouth parts. “Ah. If Dorian is aware Viktor exists, that explains a recent mystery. I did wonder what would cause Dorian to redirect his men from their search for me.”

“You know Viktor?” I cough.

“Oh, yes. I knew Viktor. He earned me a lot of money over the years.” Josef takes a folded blue handkerchief from his pants pocket and wipes my blood from his hands. “How unfortunate that this income stream ended with his life.”

“Viktor worked for you?” I lick at my fingers and hold them over the deep gashes, healing saliva mingling with blood. The wound knits and blood loss slows, but my mind stays fuzzy. I’ve lost too much blood. Too quickly.

“No. I’ve never met the man. I suppose I never will now,” replies Josef.

“I don’t understand.”

Josef crouches down. “That’s your problem, Grayson. You don’t think.” I flinch as he jabs his forefinger into the center of my temples and holds it there. “You don't do as you're told.”

My jaw clenches. Like I’m a naughty little kid .

Sighing, Josef stands, then wanders to the window, hands behind his back.

“I didn’t realize Viktor had involved himself with the rebel witch clique, even though I knew somebody with his level of skill must be involved.

But murdered? Somebody wanted Viktor eliminated before he revealed too much to the Blackwood bastard.

” Josef turns back. “Yet this is all very confusing. Who leaked the truth about Viktor Whitegrove’s identity?

Who killed him? Dorian wouldn’t. Not yet. ”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

He scoffs. “I suggest you tell me everything so that I know you're useful enough to me to keep you alive. I’ll protect you from Dorian, but only if you help me. I’ve asked you before to bring information. Let’s say you’ve a life or death choice now. A permanent one.”

“I—” The words won’t come as my voice chokes.

“I need to know who killed Viktor and why, and I need updating on what happens next. I have suspicions that if true will help me immensely.” He looms over me. “I’ll find the answers inside your head myself. Your choice. But you will remain here until you understand and agree to what I’m asking.”

I’m weaker, no longer able to block Josef from my mind. I slump back in a pool of my own blood. How can I hide the truth now?