Broken Hands

85. Pulling through

Grayson couldn't even begin to narrate the whirlwind his life had become in such a short span of time. The grief for Stray was still fresh, an open wound that refused to heal. Every moment without her felt like a knife twisting deeper into his chest. She didn't deserve to die like that. He wanted justice, but Hera's recent revelations had only made the world around him feel more dangerous. Hera's presence at home was a double-edged sword—security on one side and a looming threat on the other.

As he stepped out of the therapist's office with Alex by his side, Grayson clutched his phone, his mind spinning. Therapy was a strange mix of uplifting and agonizing. Mrs. Denise had a way of drawing out the worst of his past, forcing him to confront the darkness he tried so hard to bury. Talking about Stray was the hardest. It was like tearing open fresh wounds and pouring salt into them, but she pushed him until he broke, again and again.

Still, her words lingered. She was right—so were Damien and Julian. He couldn't keep running. He had to face the shadows of his past: his cold-blooded father, the horrors lurking in Charlie's old device, and the truths about his mother that no one wanted to share.

The code haunted him most. He'd hidden it for years, scratching the numbers off the back of his bracelet beads, memorizing them, and stashing a copy somewhere so secret even he sometimes questioned its existence. It was a risk—a risk he thought he'd avoided. But now, more than ever, he knew he couldn't run forever. To protect those he cared about, he had to stop being a pawn in this and start being a player.

Grayson slid into the passenger seat as Alex started the car, the late evening light fading into the glow of street lamps. The city looked serene, but it didn't match the storm brewing in his chest.

Alex's voice cut through the quiet. "So," he began, throwing Grayson a glance, "what do you think of Heline?"

Grayson kept his face neutral, shrugging on one shoulder. "I'm not in the best position to say anything yet. You should ask Julian."

His words felt slippery, like lies wrapped in half-truths. He couldn't talk about Hera—not to Alex or Damien. Damien would find out eventually; he was too smart to miss the signs. And when he did, all hell would break loose. Hera's presence wasn't just dangerous for Grayson—it could drag the entire household into a mess too big to clean up.

"You're probably right," Alex said lightly, refocusing on the road.

Grayson relaxed slightly, but Alex wasn't done.

"How's school?" Alex asked, his tone softer now. "Damien and I talked, and he mentioned you've only got a few months left. But listen, if anything's wrong—if you're uncomfortable or feeling belittled—I want you to tell me. I don't care if it's a few weeks or a few months; your well-being is more important. We'll figure something out."

Grayson glanced at Alex, wishing, just for a moment, that someone like Alex had been there for Antoine. "I'm fine, Uncle Lex," he said, his tone calm but edged with exhaustion. "Honestly, this would've been a lifesaver if you'd suggested it in my first week at Durham. But don't worry—I'm used to it now."

Alex's gaze flickered toward him, concern etched into his features. "I don't want you 'used to it,' Grayson. I've told Damien this before—you shouldn't have to endure anything like that. You're not supposed to toughen up because you don't have any other options. That's not how it should be."

Grayson swallowed a smile, appreciating Alex's concern more than he could express. "Okay, I'll let you know if I can't take it anymore."

Alex exhaled, a soft sigh of relief. "Good. I can't wait for you to finish with that place."

"Me too," Grayson murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Alex chuckled. "And when the time comes, we'll pick a college you want. Neither of us—especially Damien—will intervene." He paused, his smile turning conspiratorial. "Honestly, Damien freaks me out sometimes."