Page 118 of Crossfire

But that was all under the guise that I was innocent, and there, on his computer screen, were photographs of me, talking to someone I’d never seen before in my life.

Where did they come from? And from whom? And why?

I backed away from the screen like it could reach out and grab me, my heart thundering as Grayson’s face managed to darken even more.

Violently so.

That one glare communicated so much.

He had lowered his defenses for me, sharing secrets he’d never revealed to anyone else. He’d exposed his vulnerabilities, all under the illusion that I was innocent.

But those files, they changed everything.

Grayson stood so slowly that the speed of his movements alone was enough to cause the hairs across my body to stand up. My attention roamed over the dangerous muscles blanketing his bare torso, his body clothed in nothing more than a pair of pants he’d thrown on when he’d exited the bedroom. My heart tried to run out of this room before I could—viciously crashing against my rib cage.

“Grayson, I’m innocent,” I pleaded, my hands trembling as I raised them in surrender. “I swear to you, I’ve never even met that person.”

His eyes snapped to the cell phone in my hand, narrowing.

“Are you trying to tell me that’s not you?” It wasn’t a question; it was an accusation. More along the lines ofnow, you’re going to insult me further by lying to me?“I believed you.”

“I’m not a criminal.” I took a step backward.

He walked around the desk, his movements deliberate and menacing. “Every word.”

His quiet words and loud accusation burned everything we had to ashes. He singed everything he thought he knew about me, until I was nothing more than a suspicious target worthy of death.

“After all we’ve been through, how can you think I’m a monster?” No matter how much supposed evidence might’ve been sent to him, how could he change his mind that quickly?

How stupid, to think I was someone he cared enough to trust. Evidently, one batch of deepfake photos was all it took for him to transform into the monster who thirsted for my blood.

“Please, you have to believe me,” I begged, tears blurring my vision. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m telling you the truth.”

The predator lurked closer to his prey.

Jump him. Knock him down and pummel him before he has the chance to do it to you.

Those eyes. Were those the eyes his targets saw as their hearts beat for the last time?

I spun and sprinted out of the office, down the hallway, and into the crisp air outside—fleeing into the sanctuary of the woods. I wish I was wearing more than a T-shirt and jeans, but when I’d thrown these clothes back on in a haste after making love, I didn’t realize I’d need socks, shoes, and a coat to flee for my life in the bitter cold.

“Goddammit, Ivy!” he shouted. “Get back here.”

He didn’t deserve my tears. He didn’t deserve to know how deep this cracked me inside or how it echoed with the skepticism I’d faced from others.

All those times I’d begged everyone to believe me, that there was a bigger reason my father killed himself, and they cast me aside, labeling me as a grief-stricken daughter in denial.

Now, Grayson didn’t believe me and was casting me aside, too. Labeling me an enemy of the state, a mass murderer, an evil person who deserved to die.

I thought we’d shared something so deep, it wouldn’t be shaken, let alone so easily.

What a naive idiot I’d been, to fall for him and to believe that I mattered more to him than this. That I meant enough to him to give me the benefit of the doubt or at least ask me about this instead of chasing me through the forest.

I bit back the burning in my throat and focused on my escape through scratching branches and ice-cold earth against my bare feet, but he caught me. Of course he did.

And he slammed my back against a tree, yanking my cell phone from my hand and shoving it into his back pocket.

Leaving me at his mercy.

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