Page 64 of Crossover

“That ship has sailed, Ivy.”

“It’s not too late.”

“Police don’t look too kindly on people who leave the scene of a homicide.”

“We can tell them that we panicked. Maybe they haven’t even found him yet.”

“Ivy…” I could tell Grayson was trying to keep his tone patient, but the lack of sleep was making that exceedingly difficult. “I told you, the second we land in police custody, Daniel will know. We’ll be sitting ducks.”

“Maybe the police can protect us.”

A muscle ticced in his jaw. “If I believed that, I’d escort you to the station myself. You need to trust me.”

“But what if the cops find that guy and trace it back to us?”

Grayson leaned forward, crossing his forearms over each other, while I tried to pretend his proximity did nothing to my stomach.

When he spoke, his voice was even lower. “Ifthat were to ever happen,” he said, quiet and resolute, “I’ll confess that I, and I alone, pulled that trigger.”

“You weren’t alone.”

“I have the gun to proveI’mthe one that shot him. That’s what will matter.”

“He was attackingme,” I reasoned. “And webothran.”

“I forced you to run.”

“Forced is not accurate.”

“I had a gun on you.” He arched a brow.

“You can’t change the narrative like that; it’s a lie. And you can’t take the fall alone; you’d spend the rest of your life in prison.”

He adjusted his cap, his shoulder muscles trying to distract me from his traumatizing words.

“Ivy, it’s unlikely I’d spend my life in prison.”

“Because you can afford a really good attorney?” I hoped.

He studied my face. “Because in prison, I’d be a fish in a barrel. Prime picking for the CIA to take out.”

I recoiled in shock. “Then, that’s all the more reason we have to make sure it never happens!”

“I don’t intend for it to happen, Ivy, but if they do trace it back to us, I’ll be the one to take the fall. Not you.”

Tears threatened to spill over as emotion welled up inside me. “I’ll tell them the truth,” I said. “You saved me.”

“If they’re looking for blood,” Grayson said calmly, “I’ll lie if that’s what it takes to keep you out of prison.”

“I don’t want you to do that,” I replied.

“I don’t intend for it to happen, Ivy. I’m just laying the cards on the table,” he said. “And I’m not asking for your permission.” He paused, letting his words sink in. “I’ll protect you from every threat against your life, freedom, or anything else.”

I struggled to swallow down not only the apology for how I had treated Grayson, but also something else that threatened to take root—forgiveness.

It was a feeling I fought against, strangled by my loyalty to my dad.

But you can’t forgive someone who killed your father. You can’t focus on the fact that Grayson didn’t know—that he thought he was saving people. Or that, by the sounds of it, Dad would’ve been killed by someone else. Maybe even along with me.

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