“Hmm?” he hummed against my ear, the sound warming my insides.
“Do you believe in soulmates?”
“With all my heart, little star.”
I handed the paper to Agent Becket, my hand shaking. “This one.”
He looked at me curiously. “Hmm…” he contemplated. “The watch that tracks stars. You sure?”
I turned to look out the small window of the plane, suddenly wishing I never boarded it. “With all my heart.”
Ava
Theywerelaughing.Thebastards were fuckinglaughing, having a grand ‘ole time under the stars on their hotel balcony.
My body was vibrating with anger and hurt and pure adrenaline from finally seeing their faces aftermonths. I pushed the car door open, just in time to hurl my guts out. My body convulsed, again and again, while I struggled to keep air in my lungs.
“Shit, Ava,” Owen cursed, as he leaned over to keep my hair out of the way. “I shouldn’t have brought you. This is too much.”
I finally straightened and wiped my mouth with the napkin Owen handed to me. “You wouldn’t have found them without me.” I knew how Grayson thought. I knew how he picked his hotels. And I knew what his cold, black little heart desired.
We stared out the front window of the car at the three peoplelaughingand drinking beer two blocks away. At the people whose laughs I knew so well that they echoed in my head as if they were right beside me. I was out here trying to constantly remind myself to breathe because it didn't come naturally anymore, because without them I had no reason to, while they were laughing like I never even existed—the memory of me and what they did to me not even tainting their joy. There were no silent glances at the fourth empty seat. No acknowledgement that it was ever occupied by someone else.
Byme.
Grayson stood from his chair, slowly making his way to the balcony railing. He looked like a Greek god, watching the people bustle in the street beneath him. A mysterious, untouchable god. A god whose body I knew better than my own. I’ve tried to forget what he looked like, but I knew every line of his perfect face, every little fleck of green in his brown eyes.
He tipped his head back, staring up at the full moon. My chest caved in on itself. Was he thinking of me? Of the time he told me he wanted to reach inside my chest and rip my heart out to keep for himself while I fucked his hand under the full moon? Or when I swore my soul to him as he claimed me for the first time against the side of his SUV, under the full moon?
“You don’t want me,”I had thought that night when he’d refused, at first, to let me stay with him.
His voice echoed loudly in my head.“Don’t youeverthink that. I would burn the fucking world to have you, Princess.”He had said it with such conviction, such emotion, that it never even crossed my mind to question it again. I had been so certain of his feelings for me. Now I was sitting in a car watching him from afar, hoping, wishing, he was thinking of me.
Or maybe he did feel that way once. Maybe I had said or did something that made him fall out of love with me.
My chest tightened.
I descended into the memories of us, trying to find the turning point. Was it because I helped him with Charles when he begged me not to? He was upset about it, up until the day we took Charles. I had thought he was finally over it, but maybe not? Or maybe I was simply too boring, too…normal,for his taste.
Or, if I was completely honest with myself, it was all just a lie from the very beginning. He had taken what he needed and then discarded me as soon as he was able to and never looked back.
They werelaughing. How could they be laughing?
“I can’t believe it’s them. I can’t believe I’m finally looking at them.” Agent Becket’s words sliced through my searing thoughts. “After all this time.”
I nodded, swallowing hard against the emotions wanting to escape me. Now was not the time to descend back into madness. I had to focus.
I peered at Owen’s face, forcing my awareness out of my body and the sickness blooming there. Forcing myself to concentrate on something else, anything else. Owen’s jaw was set in determination, his unruly, rich-brown curls swept back from his face. After all these months, I haven’t even noticed that he would be considered conventionally attractive. His blue eyes were sharp and calculating, framed by thick, dark brows. He straightened under my scrutiny. It was probably impolite to stare at someone like that, but I was too tired and broken for manners.
Owen had told me the stories of how everyone had ridiculed him for believing that Grayson’s little band of thieves existed. They had nicknamed him the Ghost Hunter, a name that had suddenly gone from mocking to legendary when he’d finally proven the existence of the Apparitions, with me as witness.
“Are you going to let the rest of the FBI know we found them?” I asked as the hatred returned full swing seeing the three on the balcony toast to something.
Owen frowned, his knee bouncing up and down. “If a plane of FBI agents landed in this vicinity, it might tip them off. I’m not taking that chance right now. We’ll have to get help from the local authorities. It might cost me my job, but I’m not losing them because of bullshit bureaucracy.”
“You’re making a mistake,” I cut in, in my broken Spanish.
All the eyes at the table turned to me.
