Page 50 of Reignite

No.

No no no no no no no no no no no no no no.

No.

Gray was my protector, my world, my life, my soul.

That couldn’t be taken away from me.

“Where is he?”

A pain, unlike any of the other aches in my body, built in the bottom of my stomach. It clawed its way up to my chest, spreading fear and hurt and anguish along the way, gripping me with despair and overwhelming anger and sadness. There was nothing but an empty hollow space behind my chest, where my heart should be.

Tremors shook my body, then turned to great gasps, sobs that I couldn’t control.

Strong arms, but the wrong arms, wrapped themselves around me. I buried my face in Jim’s chest and wept.

“I know, Angel. I know.” The words were soft and meant to soothe, but they hurt me even more.

“No. He’s not gone. No. He can’t be. No.”

No. Not Gray. Not my Gray. He could not be dead. He just couldn’t.

I cried out his name, but the only response I got wasn’t the right one.

“I know, doll. I know.”

* * *

A month pastand passed me by.

I healed on the outside. A circular scar where Foster’s bullet had hit me was the only visible scar.

No one could see the sharp and shattered wounds I still had on the inside.

Those would never heal. Not without Gray.

His remains, what little there was continued to be unidentified. Jim explained that the army was likely the cause of that. Delta operators barely had identities in the outside world, even after they weren’t active anymore.

I stopped listening for the phone. Stopped watching the door. Stopped everything.

Jim tried his best.

He’d taken charge of my security. Once again, I had bodyguards in my life. Not like I thought I needed them.

Foster hadn’t been caught.

Didn’t matter.

He’d gotten his revenge.

Without Gray to hurt, I doubted I mattered to him anymore.

The FBI, or whoever weren’t convinced. They said the agency was involved and would continue to monitor us for reasons I didn’t even care about. They questioned us all dozens of times. All except Ilario.

They told me he hadn’t come back from the city yet and no one could get a hold of him.

I swore he’d been at the club. No one else had seen or heard him. The therapist told me my mind had made him up to help me through the trauma.

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