Safe Hands

52. Back Home

Grayson had tasted revenge countless times before, but this time, it was different. It was colder, more calculated, and aimed directly at the one person who had managed to get under his skin like no other—Russell, or as Grayson had come to call him in his mind, Mr. Little Satan. As he walked the familiar halls of the house, hands buried deep in his hoodie pockets, he could feel the tension in his muscles, the slow burn of anger simmering just beneath the surface.

He reached Russell's door, pushing it open without knocking. Inside, Russell was speaking on the phone, his voice low but laced with arrogance. Grayson casually strolled in, his gaze flickering over the various trophies and pictures that lined the shelves. Russell glared at him, clearly annoyed by the intrusion, but continued his conversation. Grayson smirked, noticing the similarities between Russell and Julian—both were trophy collectors, obsessed with winning. Brilliant, maybe, but ultimately insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

Russell ended his call abruptly, his tone venomous. "Get out," he snapped, his eyes narrowing in a dangerous glare.

Grayson didn't even spare him a glance. He continued to peruse Russell's belongings, his movements slow and deliberate, designed to provoke. The tension in the room thickened, and Russell, now fuming, marched to the door and held it wide open. "I really don't want to beat your butt out of here, so, do it on your own. I don't have time for this."

With a sinister sigh, Grayson pulled out his phone, his tone calm, almost casual. "I just thought I'd let you know that I plan to help you out by speaking with your father. You see, I've been hearing a lot about your grades lately. They're slipping, and I think it's because football is becoming too strenuous for you. Maybe it's time to step down."

Russell's eyes flashed with fury as he slammed the door shut, his fists balled at his sides. "You won't do that."

Grayson rolled his eyes, unaffected by the threat. "Slamming the door won't stop me, and neither will you."

Russell crossed his arms, his expression defiant. "You don't have any proof. Dad only deals with proof."

A smirk tugged at Grayson's lips as he held up his phone, swiping through the photos he had taken. "That's a C, and a D, and an F, and another F... Oh, look, another C. Yeah, I think I've got plenty of proof."

Russell's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with a mix of anger and desperation. He lunged at Grayson, trying to snatch the phone, but Grayson sidestepped him easily, his smirk growing wider.

"Even if you take this phone, the proof's elsewhere. You can't win this one," Grayson said, his voice low and menacing.

Defeated, Russell glared at him, the anger in his eyes now mixed with a hint of fear. "What do you want?"

Grayson slipped his phone back into his hoodie pocket, his gaze never leaving Russell's. "I want you to stay out of my business. No ratting me out, no snitching, no backtalk. What happens in school stays in school, and I'll do the same."

Russell frowned, his mind racing as he weighed his options. After a moment, he gave a reluctant nod. "Fine."

Grayson stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And there's one more thing. You've caused me a lot of trouble in the past, and I'm not letting you get away with it. So, you're going to do something for me."

Russell's frown deepened, but he nodded again, his gaze wary. "What is it?"

Grayson's smile was cold and calculating. "You'll know when the time comes."

Satisfied with the deal, Grayson left Russell's room, his mind already on his next move. He made his way to the study, where Alex was seated at his laptop, his brow furrowed in concentration. Grayson sat on the couch, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his messages.