Penance - Uncovering the truth, Secrets and confessions, and Twisted pasts

Chapter 18

Drunk Alison sat beside Grayson, licking her ice cream with childlike delight. Grayson glanced at is watch realizing the lateness of the hour. Time had slipped away unnoticed in Alison's company, and now it was half an hour to midnight. Grayson ordered his limo to pick him up at Central Park.

Alison finished her ice cream before him, and Grayson, wiping away a streak of melted chocolate from his fingertips, turned to her. "Alison, where do you live?" Grayson inquired, his own ice cream slowly melting in his hand. Unfortunately, Alison's tipsy state rendered her response unintelligible, a jumble of words that held a strange familiarity. Though her gaze remained glassy, he noticed a glimmer of blue returning to her eyes.

Understanding that Alison was in no condition to provide an answer, Grayson made a decision. He gently assured her that he would personally take her home. In response, Alison shook her head repeatedly, a contradictory gesture that, in her drunken state, represented a "yes."

With careful steps, Grayson helped Alison navigate their way to Central Park, grateful that it was conveniently close by. As they approached their destination, the limo awaited them, its sleek black exterior gleaming under the street-lights. Grayson opened the door and gently guided Alison inside, ensuring she was settled comfortably.

As the limo pulled away, Grayson took out his phone, attempting to uncover more about Alison Emrys. But once again, his search yielded no results. She remained a mystery, a puzzle that eluded him. Frustration tugged at the edges of his thoughts, but he knew he couldn't let it consume him. There were more pressing matters at hand, starting with ensuring Alison's well-being.

Alison swayed from side to side, her eyes growing heavy with sleep. "Stay with me, Alison."  Grayson called out her name, his voice stern, trying to keep her awake. He asked once more where she lived, but her response consisted of incomprehensible sounds before she slipped back into slumber. Strangely, a sense of familiarity washed over Grayson, as if he had heard those sounds before. However, the memory remained just beyond his grasp.

Leaning back in his seat, Grayson observed Alison's sleeping form. They had only known each other for a week, yet she had managed to find her way under his skin. What intrigued him even more was the absence of any records about her existence. Official documents suggested she didn't exist.

On top of that, her beauty captivated him—the striking combination of jet black hair and piercing blue eyes was rare and added to her allure. In some ways, her behaviour reminded him of Jameson, always testing boundaries and challenging Grayson's resolve. But much like Jameson, there comes a point where a line is crossed, and the grip on control begins to slip, consumed by the engulfing darkness.

As Alison shifted in her sleep, nearly slipping off her seat, Grayson instinctively reached out to steady her, holding her in place. Taking a seat opposite her, he moved closer and gently secured her seat belt for added safety. She leaned into his shoulder, her warm breath brushing against his neck. In a hushed tone, she whispered a familiar yet cryptic phrase. "Longa et obliqua via. Quod ad ianuam meam ducit."

The limo came to a halt outside his hotel sooner than expected. Grayson glanced down at Alison, who was peacefully sleeping by his side. "A long and winding road. That leads to my door," Grayson whispered.  Alison wasn't making words up. She wasn't making weird noises either. She was speaking Latin.