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Extended Stay

Chapter Thirty-One: Extended Stay

Three quick raps on my door caught my attention a couple hours later. I got up off the couch so fast that my legs tangled in the blanket I had draped over them, nearly causing me to faceplant. I threw the damned thing back on the couch with a curse and flew to the door. Vincent had kept me as updated as he could since I had gotten home, but I had still been a ball of anxiety the whole time.

The security panel beeped as I disengaged it, then I flung the door open.

Vincent swept into the apartment before I could utter a word, and I made sure to reengage the system after the door was shut. Spinning to face him, I jumped when I realized how close he was. He crowded me back against the door, his fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of my neck as his thumbs pressed against the underside of my jaw. With the slightest pressure, he encouraged me to meet his eyes.

They swallowed me whole. I couldn't think past my next breath as Vincent's eyes devoured me. And then his lips were on mine and my thoughts eddied out. My only focus was on the urgency in his kiss. As if he were trying to reassure himself that I was still there.

"Are you okay?" we asked in unison when we came up for air.

I could feel the tension leave his shoulders as he chuckled. "I'm better now."

"Good." Taking his hand, I lead him over to the couch with me. We settled in together, and he pulled my legs across his lap before tucking my head under his chin. "What happened after I left?"

"We managed to get the place cleared out pretty fast. But he was gone. It was like there was no trace of him."

"Who was he?"

Vincent paused, his arms tightening around me for a moment. Then he exhaled and ran his hand up and down my arm before continuing. "Jaxon Graham."

"What?" I choked out.

"He's the reason Alana's dead," he said, closing his eyes as if he could ward off the pain. "He ordered the hit on her. Because I killed his father and took the gang from him."

The silence that surrounded us was deafening. I grabbed his hand, entwining our fingers together in a small show of solidarity.

"I knew Alana was killed," I said. His eyes snapped open, finding mine and swimming with questions. "Dante told me. He didn't know that I wasn't aware of the full story. But he said that as far as he knew, you had killed the man responsible."

"I thought I had," he muttered, letting out a deep sigh through his nose.

"What happened?"

He cut his gaze to me, and I could read the unspoken question in his forest eyes: Did I really want to know the full story? I did, so I nodded for him to continue.

"We had him cornered. We had tracked him all the way to the marina two cities over. I shot him right in the chest. Right in the heart, and he fell into the water. When he didn't resurface, I assumed he was rotting at the bottom of the bay."

"Until tonight."

"Until tonight," he echoed, squeezing my hand. "I just want to know how no one knew he was back in the city. He was the son of Andras Graham, and somehow, he's back in Valarian and no one thought to tell me."

"I'm sure he knew to lay low," I said, laying my head back against his shoulder. "But you'll find him. He was ballsy enough to come tonight. He must not be trying to hide anymore."