"Dare," Grayson replied firmly. He chose dare, assuming that Alison might know some information about him. It seemed like a safer option than risking a potentially revealing truth.
Alison leaned back in her chair, balancing it on two legs. "If you want to discover the truth about his party, his connection to me, and any secrets I might be hiding. I dare you to go to him and demand answers," she said, dropping the front legs of the chair and staring directly at Grayson. "Not me."
Grayson folded his hands between his knees, his gaze fixed on Alison's eyes, determined to stand his ground. He knew he couldn't let her manipulate the rules to her advantage. "Truth or Dare?" he asked, maintaining his resolve.
"Truth," Alison answered, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Who are you, Alison Emrys? Or is that even your real name?" Grayson inquired, finally voicing the question that had been lingering in his mind since their first encounter.
"I can assure you, Mr. Know-it-all, that Alison Emrys is indeed my real name," she replied, her voice steady and unwavering.
"There is a complete absence of records pertaining to your existence. Official records explicitly state that you are non-existent," Grayson pressed.
"Seems like I have a stalker," Alison's smile widened as she playfully wrapped Grayson's jacket around herself, finding comfort in its embrace.
"Explain," Grayson implored. "Why is there no trace of your history?"
Alison's lips curled into a bittersweet smile. "That's not how the game works, Grayson," she stated, her voice resonating with an otherworldly charm. "Truth or Dare?"
"Truth," Grayson declared, his frustration deepening and his patience wearing thin. Suddenly, she shifted gears and asked something unexpected. "Which childhood memory brings you the most joy?"
The question caught Grayson off guard, momentarily transporting him back to a time of innocence and warmth.
All his brothers had gathered in the Playroom. It was a room filled with laughter, mischief, and boundless possibilities.
At just 11 years old, Jameson sat in a one seated plane their grandfather had got them, his hands playfully mimicking the controls as he filled the room with swooshing noises, pretending to fly it. Grayson, 12 years old at the time, was sitting down on the right wing of the plane, taking turns with Jameson to steer the plane. Xander, the 10-year-old Human Rube Goldberg Machine, lay sprawled on the floor, his head propped up on his hands, lost in deep thought. Nash, the eldest at 18, leaned casually against the wall, a subtle smile playing on his lips as he observed the scene before him.
They were all huddled together, their attention focused on a puzzle their grandfather had created for them. Their grandfather's words echoed in their mind, driving them forward with a resolute purpose: "Failure was not an option; only victory mattered."
A hush fell upon the room as they contemplated the puzzle's mysteries, their brows furrowed in deep concentration. Then, breaking the silence, Jameson voice boomed in the room. "Maybe we need to fly and see it from a higher point of view!" he suggested, his green eyes gleaming with mischief.
Nash, always one to join in the banter, chimed in with a mischievous grin, his eyes shimmering with playful banter. "Get your head out of the clouds, Jamie-"
"Or upside down."
The room fell into silence once more, all eyes fixated on Xander, the youngest of the Hawthorn brothers. "What do you mean, Xander?" Grayson asked him. With a sigh that held a hint of wisdom beyond his years, Xander beckoned them to join him on the floor.
Curiosity getting the better of them, they followed Xander's lead, lying down side by side, their gazes fixed on the ceiling above. And that's when they saw it—a hidden code etched on the ceiling, right above the playroom.
As their eyes fixated on the mysterious code etched above the playroom ceiling, the brothers took turns pondering its meaning.
"It might be a series of coordinates, perhaps leading us to something within this house," Grayson suggested first.
"Or maybe it's a cipher, a hidden message awaiting decryption," Xander proposed.
"No, my brothers, I believe I've unravelled its purpose! It's a riddle—a secret message, encoded with our grandfather's beloved quotes," Jameson proclaimed.
Yet, as the conjectures flowed, Nash remained silent, his eyes fixated on the code. Sensing his intensity, Grayson turned his head to his brother, concern etching his brow. "Nash, what do you think? You've been quiet."
Nash sat up straight, his voice resolute. "You're all wrong," he declared, his Texas accent smooth and thick.
"Then what does the code signify, Nash?" Xander sat up to face his eldest brother. But Nash, ready to leave, stood up, prepared to walk away.
"Oh no, you don't!"Jameson pounced on Nash, wrestling him to the ground. Grayson and Xander, caught up in the excitement, joined in, pinning Nash beneath their combined weight.
Grayson secured Nash's feet, while Xander found himself atop Nash, and Jameson, with a playful twist, had his legs encircle Nash's head, teasingly constricting his airway. "Tell us!" they demanded in unison.
Nash's lips curved into a mischievous grin as he held back the revelation, savouring the moment. Grayson, Jameson, and Xander exchanged glances of confusion. With a sudden burst of energy, Nash swiftly turned the tables, breaking free from their embrace. Catching Jameson off guard, he tackled him from his neck, sending him sprawling to the side. In a fluid motion, Nash deftly caught Grayson's legs, causing him to stumble backward.
Xander jumped off from Nash, attempting to flee, but Nash reached out and firmly grabbed his arm, pulling him back into the chaos. In a matter of seconds, all three brothers found themselves caught in Nash's firm hold, their initial shock quickly turning into exhilaration.
Nash took a deep breath, his eyes meeting the expectant gazes of his brothers. "There is no such thing as fighting dirty," Nash told his brothers. "If you win."
"Solving a puzzle with my brothers," Grayson answered, snapping himself back to the present and fixing his attention on Alison. Uncertain of her intentions, he realized he couldn't afford to dwell on that now. "Truth or Dare?" Grayson continued the game, determined to uncover some truth.
"Truth," she replied once again, her voice steady and composed. Grayson paused, choosing his words carefully. "What do you hope to gain from all of this, Alison?"
Their gazes locked, and for a fleeting moment, Alison's expression betrayed a hint of mystery that tugged at Grayson's curiosity. It was an invitation, beckoning him into the realm of the unknown. "Have you ever heard the phrase 'curiosity killed the cat'?" she asked Grayson. "My intentions towards you are no different."
Grayson's eyes widened subtly, his intrigue deepening in response. Alison obviously didn't know who Grayson Hawthorne was. He was not a normal person, he was beyond that. Hawthornes were born to unravel mysteries, regardless of the consequences. They were simply design to win, but also to cause destruction. Grayson needed Alison to understand that once she placed herself on the board, there would be no turning back.
Grayson leaned closer to Alison, his voice a subtle edge in his words. "Curiosity may have killed the cat, but it is the darkness that consumes those who dare to seek it."