He searches my eyes, and for a moment, his gaze drops to my lips, making my breath hitch. But then he shakes his head, and the moment is gone. “Great, now that we’ve cleared that up…” He pulls me away again, his grip firm but not harsh.
My mind races as we make our way through the crowd. I can feel the eyes of our colleagues on us, but Grey’s determined stride keeps me moving forward. My heart is a jumble of emotions—anxiety, guilt, and a strange sense of relief that he cares enough to drag me along.
We come to a stand in front of Oliver and Misha, who are talking to each other but also scowling. When they see me, Oliver smiles softly, but Misha doesn’t meet my eyes.
Well, if these aren’t the consequences of my own actions.
Grey’s grip on my wrist loosens, but he doesn’t let go entirely. “Okay, we’re set,” he announces.
Oliver gives me a reassuring nod while Misha remains distant, his expression unreadable. The air between us is thick with unspoken tension.
Bloody hell.
The organizer’s voice echoes through the room, “Once you have your teams, head to the designated escape room areas and wait for further instructions.”
Grey, still holding my wrist, leads us to an area, only letting go of me to cross his arms over his chest and scowl at the people around us.
“Are you angry?” I ask, noticing his tense expression.
“It’s my face,” he retorts.
“No, this is the angry face,” I mutter, not expecting him to respond again.
Misha, still avoiding my gaze, adds, “Today he’s wearing a lovely shade ofI slept like shit, so don’t piss me off.”
“I just hate everyone here,” Grey grumbles.
Misha huffs a laugh. “You hate everyone, period. Yourself included.”
“I hate myself, but I’m still better than anyone else,” Grey shoots back.
Oliver chimes in, “You would feel better if you didn’t hold grudges against everybody who just looked at you the wrong way.”
Grey snorts. “I don’t hold grudges. I remember facts.”
Oliver and Misha exchange glances, and despite the tension, I can’t help but feel a small spark of warmth at their banter.
We’re assigned to an escape room decorated with antique furniture. The dim lighting makes everything feel more ominous. I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the awkwardness between us.
Oliver comes to stand beside me and breaks the silence with a smile. “Ready to put those brains to work?”
I nod, forcing myself to smile back, but my heart isn’t fully in it. Never in my life have I slept better than with him holding me all night, but I couldn’t even text him back after he left Monday morning. The guilt lingers, making it hard to meet his eyes.
Grey immediately heads to a locked chest in the corner, examining it with intense concentration, and my attention shifts to Misha. He begins fiddling with a series of dials on the wall, his brow furrowed in thought. But it’s not just his focus that catches my eye. It’s the slight limp in his step, the way he favors one foot as he moves.
The reminder of his injury pulls at my heart, filling me with concern.
Is he still hurting?
Should he even be on his feet like this? The urge to ask wells up inside me, but of course, I don’t. Instead, I hover near the center of the room, unsure where to start. My eyes keep drifting to Misha. It’s hard to focus on anything else when I know he’s in pain.
And ignoring me.
“Hey, Amelia, can you check that painting?” Oliver calls out, gesturing to a large, ornate frame on the wall.
Grateful for him telling me what to do, I nod and walk over to the painting. As I examine it, I notice small, almost invisible hinges on the side. I push, and the painting swings open to reveal a hidden compartment with a series of cryptic symbols.
“Guys, I found something!” I call out.
