Grayson's POV.
"Well, that was ass."
I slam the car door shut and stretch, cracking my neck like it might erase the past three weeks of my life.
Spoiler: it won't.
Three weeks gone, three states crossed, and for what? Babysitting some sniveling excuse of an accountant who couldn't even keep his lies straight for five minutes. The guy pissed himself during the first interrogation.
Mission accomplished, I guess.
Total waste of time.
"Next time, I'm faking a gunshot wound," I mutter, yanking my bag from the back seat.
Connor snorts behind me. "You'd miss the action too much."
"Yeah, well, if Arnaldo sends us out again to 'teach someone a lesson,' I hope it's someone who can at least spell their own damn name."
Connor's the only one I can talk to like this. The rest of the guys, they're all business. No feelings, no small talk, no personal anything. Just tactics, weapons, kill orders. But Connor's earned the exception. He's the only one I've ever talked to about her.
"So," he says, smirking, "you hitting HQ first, or heading straight to Aven's?"
I shoot him a look. He already knows.
"I've been counting down since we left."
He laughs, but I'm not really listening anymore. My mind's already halfway across town, with her.
Three weeks without Aven.
Without her laugh, her sarcasm, her head tucked under my chin, her legs tangled with mine beneath the sheets. It was torture. And not the kind I'm trained to enjoy.
I've missed her. More than I should. More than I ever let myself admit out loud.
We cross through the gates into Forks, the crunch of gravel under our boots settling something in my chest. Finally. Home base.
Rami nods at us from his post, then tosses me my phone from the lockbox. "About time," he mutters.
The second I catch it, the weight hits me.
Three weeks of silence.
The screen lights up.
73 missed texts. 21 voicemails.
Most from burner numbers or mafia contacts. But one thread, labeled Baby<3, punches the air right out of my lungs.
Before I can open anything, the front doors to HQ slam open.
Luca.
Second in command. Arnaldo's right hand.
The kind of guy who doesn't step outside unless something's gone seriously sideways.
"Grayson," he says, voice sharp. "You need to come with me. Now."
Everything in me goes still.
YOU ARE READING
Shattered Asylum
CintaShe escaped a house full of monsters... but she never stopped being hunted. I thought I escaped the worst of it. But some monsters don't stay in the past. After years of surviving in a house that only knew cruelty, sixteen year old Aven is sent to l...
