Just My Luck

Chapter 11

Once safely back at the hotel, things in the air felt off. Grayson bee-lined for the balcony, almost slamming the door shut behind him in fury. The hinges groaned in protest.

Damien went to help the others clean themselves up, leaving me standing alone in the spacious living room.

The gun in my belt felt too heavy for me, the weight of guilt finally settling heavily into my stomach. I recalled Isaac' words on the train; kill or be killed, fight or die.

With a shiver, I placed it uselessly on the counter, eyeing it with unease.

Against my better judgment, I think I should check on Grayson. Remembering how well the whiskey worked the first time, I deftly made another glass.

With slightly trembling fingers, I apprehensively opened the glass door. The crisp air felt wonderful in my lungs, washing away a few slivers of the darkness inside of me.

So consumed in his thoughts, Grayson didn't even turn to acknowledge my presence. His eyes were intent on the view of Moscow as the sun rested low in the sky.

A sense of deja-vu washed over me, but I ignored it, taking a seat beside him.

He cast a sideways glance at me, sighing wistfully as he accepted the drink.

This time, however, he didn't drink it. Instead, he swished it around, watching transfixed as the contents moved.

The ice clinking against the sides of the glass was the only thing heard aside from the busy streets below.

When he finally spoke, his voice was pained. "Why are you so intent on getting to know me, Adeline?" If I didn't know any better, I would say there was a hint of tears in his eyes.

He chugged back a swig of the liquor, as if the harsh sting would take away his emotions.

I gulped, heart shuddering.

I knew this question was coming, but luckily, I already had an answer. "I know that you think you're this awful person... but I don't believe that you're entirely a bad guy. I think bad things happened to you that made you this way. I think that no matter how much you push me away, you want me to keep trying. That's why you gave me the choice of joining. You could've killed me on the spot and ended all of this. You've had plenty of opportunities to do it since then, yet you haven't. Why? What's stopping you, Grayson?"

The muscles in his jaw clenched as he leaned towards me. The glass was placed on a side table, now long forgotten. "I let you live because I knew you could be useful. You think I kept you alive because of some... attachment to you?" His hands balled into fists. "You're wrong."

His words had no impact on me at this point. I know he's lying – he's lying to himself, I think.

I matched his stance, leaning so close to him that I could see the small specks of green in his blue eyes. "I don't think, Grayson. I know. I know you feel it too, no matter how much you try to push it down. I saw it back at the Kremlin."

My hand meticulously reached to rest delicately upon his face. I could feel the stubble underneath my sensitive fingertips.

His eyes burned as if a fire had ignited in the pit of his stomach, some long-forgotten part of himself awakening. A deep yearning fluttered across his features.

Unconsciously, he leaned into my touch, a shaky breath stumbling from his slightly chapped lips.

"Adeline... don't," he whispered, voice cracking ever-so-infinitesimally.