Crossfire (Cross Duet #1)

63. IVY

63

IVY

I had a terrible feeling about all of this.

The great room was enveloped in the deep auburn hues of the fireplace—each pop and crackle of wood punctuating the silence—while outside the floor-to-ceiling window, the moon draped the lawn in a haunting silver glow, as if the world outside was holding its breath, anxious to see how the night would play out.

In here, everyone else looked at ease. Hunter, Jace, and Bryson sipped scotch while my attention drifted to the front entrance, where I had last seen Grayson.

“It’s a cabernet.” Luna held out a wineglass to me.

Its deep red liquid mirrored the blood that haunted my past—blood I prayed would not be part of my future.

“I can tell you’re scared.” Luna took a seat next to me on the couch. “Hunter said that you’re in a bit of danger.”

He did? I searched her eyes, looking for any clues that she knew more.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Did Hunter or Grayson fill Luna in on the whole CIA situation? Or was she out of the loop here?

Unwilling to say something I shouldn’t, I shook my head and scrutinized the front door again.

With its intricate wood carvings, it was a cruel reminder of the last time I had watched someone dear to me walk away, never to return. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from it, as if my gaze alone could summon Grayson back, could prevent the door from becoming a symbol of yet another catastrophic loss.

The memories of my father engulfed me, a bittersweet blend of joy and anguish.

The rough texture of a baseball in my small hands, Dad’s laughter echoing in my ears. The exhilaration and fear as I pedaled my bike alone for the first time, his encouraging shouts fading behind me. The warmth of his arm around me as he breathed life into my favorite fairy tales. Each memory a precious snapshot of the love he had given me.

And then the fateful day that branded itself on my soul…

“Dad!” I shrieked, my trembling hands pressed to his bloodstained cheeks.

The gun lay nearby, a cruel reminder of the life it had stolen.

I tore off my shirt, desperately pressing it against the wound, pleading with him not to leave me.

Hours later, I stood motionless in the shower. The dried blood on my skin was all I had left of him. My legs gave way, and I sank to the cold porcelain, curling into myself as wave after wave of grief crashed over me. And my relentless sobs echoed off the tiles.

And now, here I was, knowing nothing would be the same after this night either.

I set the glass of wine on the table next to me, my stomach churning too much to take a single sip.

Luna thinned her lips, and her glance toward Hunter held a flicker of something unspoken—a hint of their own secrets, perhaps buried beneath their composed facades.

Hunter crossed the room, as if a single look from her had the power to beckon him.

“You’re safe here, Ivy. You heard what Barry said.” Hunter’s words carried an undertone of duty, a reminder of his promise to Grayson to keep me here until he got back.

Not if , Ivy. Until.

“My home is fitted with a comprehensive security system,” Hunter assured. “Cameras all around the property, front and back, down to the road, everywhere. And there’s a 24-hour security team watching those feeds. If anyone comes here, we’ll see them long before they see us.”

I offered a weak smile, not because he made me feel better, but because he was trying to be kind. Grayson had such a wonderful family.

How heartbroken they would be if Grayson died, trying to protect me.

My stomach tightened so much, it ached.

“Why don’t you take her to the security room?” Hunter suggested to Luna. “Maybe seeing the security feeds will alleviate some of her apprehension.”

I wanted to tell him it wasn’t my safety I was worried about—not in the short-term, at least. Long-term, sure, but tonight, it was Grayson’s neck on the line. Not that I’d say any of that. I didn’t trust myself not to say something that Jace, Bryson, or Luna weren’t supposed to overhear, so instead, I followed Luna in a daze, Hunter trailing behind us.

At least moving would get me away from the front door that loomed over me like an omen.

Once inside the surveillance room, Luna motioned toward a gigantic monitor.

“Each square is a different live feed.” She pointed to the upper-left grid. “That one overlooks the road out front. That one”—she moved her finger—“is a shot of the end of the driveway. That one is the center of the backyard. That one…”

The security footage was so extensive that not a single area of the estate had a blind spot.

Except for one—wherever Grayson was right now.

I knew it was too soon, but I desperately scanned the video feeds, searching for any sign of Grayson’s return.

He just…had to make it back.

Ever since my father’s death, I had been fixated on my need to understand why he killed himself. Everyone tried to get me to move on, to accept that sometimes in life, you just didn’t get the answers, and you needed to find a way to move forward.

No one got through to me. Until Grayson.

When his father had been killed, he hadn’t wallowed in wanting to understand why it had happened. Instead, he took a stand. He took action and dedicated his life to helping other people to never have to live through that kind of hell.

Maybe that’s what I should have been doing this past year. Instead of obsessing over what role my last conversation had in Dad’s decision to end his life, maybe I should have been advocating for suicide awareness. I should’ve been taking action. Just like Grayson had.

I desperately wanted his car to appear on that security feed, ambling up the driveway, but the shot remained empty, flickering once, as if to remind me how quickly the image of your life could change.