Page 135 of Crossover

“…red scar…Z-shaped…”

The world tilted on its axis, my lungs burning, as if I’d swallowed fire. The realization hit me with the force of a freight train.

“It was you.” The words scraped past my clenched teeth like gravel.

The monster from Ivy’s nightmares wasn’t some hired thug, nor a low-level henchman sent to teach Ivy’s dad a lesson.

It was Vosch himself.

The monster in her nightmares was sitting right next to me.

The man who’d grabbed and attacked her, tried to shove her into that waiting vehicle, only to flee when Ivy’s father started beating Vosch’s accomplice.

Surely, Ivy’s father must have at least suspected Vosch was one of the men, right? Even though the abductors wore ski masks, there had to be at least a chance Ivy’s father had recognized him. So why hadn’t Vosch been charged?

Maybe they didn’t have enough evidence to bring charges, or someone helped bury it. Vosch had a knack for infiltrating, didn’t he? Or maybe, by that point, Ivy’s father was too scared to identify him to authorities.

Either way, Vosch got away with it. Scot-free.

My heart raced with a primal anticipation as my desire to protect innocent lives joined forces with my vengeance against Ivy’s assailant—crystallizing into a single, razor-sharp purpose. I may be trapped on this train, but so was he. And I would make damn sure that long before we reached our destination, I’d stop whatever he was planning.

And make him regret ever having laid hands on Ivy.

75

GRAYSON

Entombed in a two-ton tunnel of steel, travelers chatted happily—their soft voices mingling with theclack-clack, clack-clackrhythm of the train’s wheels along the track as it carried us further away from downtown Chicago. Trapping them with Vosch and his armed men, who’d taken positions in the seats around us.

“Do not look so upset,” Vosch said, making it clear I had dropped my poker face.

My gaze snapped to his.

“You might worry the passengers, and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

I ground my molars with the dangerous anger that threatened to cloud my judgment. Scanning the group, I assessed each man individually, searching for telltale signs of where they concealed their weapons. Predictably, some of them carried them on their calves, others in the back of their waistbands, covered by a jacket.

I shifted my gaze back to Vosch, glaring at the piece of shit in front of me, angling my body more. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows, his left wrist only two feet from mine, and withhis closest minion three feet away, I might never get another chance like this.

“You attempted to abduct my girlfriend when she was thirteen,” I said, my voice almost trembling with anger.

Vosch began picking at his fingernails. “You don’t say.”

What a vile, disgusting monster. Even the most violent criminals in this country typically held a code that kids were off-limits. But not this asshole. Not only did he prey on them, but their shattered innocence or murders were as insignificant to him as spilling a glass of water.

My hand twitched.

All I wanted to do—no, scratch that. All Ineededto do was pummel him in the face until my every knuckle was broken and bloodied. Only then might this searing fury begin to cool. A tiny little scratch would never come close to satisfying the level of rage ripping my soul in half, and it was too kind of a way for Vosch to die.

This man deserved so much worse.

I wanted to rip every single fingernail off of him. I wanted to break every single bone in his body, one at a time.

“Why did you do it yourself?” I demanded. “Why not one of your minions?”

“Back then, I used to participate in things like that.” Vosch couldn’t have sounded more bored if he tried. “Sends quite the message when people find outI’mthe one who did it, does it not?”

“She was just a child,” I managed. “And you and one of your goons jumped out of a car and grabbed her.”

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