Page 128 of Crossover
My hand instinctively covered his on my belly, and I felt a connection spark between us, more powerful than anything I’d ever experienced. In that touch, I sensed the future we’d dreamed of, the family we could build, all hanging by a thread in this moment.
Fresh tears welled, blurring Grayson’s face. I wanted to scream, to plead, to physically drag him onto that plane. But beneath my panic, a small voice whispered that this was who he was—the man I fell in love with, the protector, the one who’d sacrifice everything for those he loved.
“I can’t allowanythingto happen to you,” he said. “Or our baby.”
My pregnancy declaration had the opposite of its intended effect; I could see it in his eyes that any hope of ever making him reconsider had burned to ashes. It would be a moment that I knew I would replay for the rest of my life, wondering what else I could have done, said, or not said, wondering if there had been any chance to save Grayson from what he was about to do.
“What if you just give Vosch what he wants?” It was a vile, repulsive thought, one I was ashamed I’d had for even a desperate second, let alone spoken out loud. Deep down, I didn’t mean it; I’d never want him to endanger other people by helping Vosch, but in that fleeting moment, I just wanted us to be alive together. No matter how selfish it might be.
“Ivy,” he said, “I would rather die, being the man that youdeserve, than live a lifetime, being a monster unworthy of your love.”
His proclamation hung between us, carving a fresh hole in my heart, filled with equal parts heartbreak and love.
“The longer we sit here, the higher the risk of getting spotted,” the agent urged. “We need to get wheels up—now!”
I gripped his shirt, inhaling his scent, trying to commit it to memory.
“Be strong for me,” he cooed. “For our child.”
I felt like I was crumbling, barely holding myself together. “Please,” I whispered, my voice raw. “Don’t let our child grow up without a father.”
I saw the impact immediately. Grayson’s expression shifted, his eyebrows drawing together in a mix of pain and resolve. Too late, I realized my mistake.
“God, Grayson, I’m sorry,” I stammered, shame washing over me. How could I have been so careless? The wound of his own fatherless childhood was still bleeding, and I’d thoughtlessly prodded it. “I wasn’t thinking. I?—”
He cut me off, pulling me close with a gentleness that contradicted the intensity in his features.
“I love you,” he murmured, his voice low and severe. “Both of you.”
And then he gently brushed his lips against mine.
His kiss was bittersweet—a moment of paradise, tainted by the fear that it might be our last. As I climbed the steps ofthe private jet, prioritizing our unborn child’s safety over my breaking heart, Grayson’s gaze followed me.
With one final look over my shoulder, I watched him walk away, each step feeling like a dagger to my soul. If he didn’t return, a big part of me would die along with him, and our unborn child and I would be left to face a world that seemed impossibly dark without Grayson in it.
70
GRAYSON
Walking away from Ivy was the hardest thing I had ever done in my life. My throat swelled with the boulder inside of it, tears charring my eyes as I clenched my fists, forcing myself to not turn around and look at her, because if I did, I didn’t trust myself to not run into her arms and surrender to recklessness.
Especially now that I knew she was pregnant with my child. I had more to fight for than ever before and more reason than ever to try not to die doing it.
I had been over this plan countless times with Hunter, with the CIA director, and each time, we had come to the same conclusion; whether we liked it or not, this was, in fact, the best chance to take Vosch down.
And I was being honest with Ivy when I told her I did not intend to die. This wasn’t a suicide mission. If I wanted to do that, I would’ve worn a backpack full of explosives. My intention was to gain his trust, and just when he let his guard down, I would strike.
The problem was, he would be surrounded by his soldiers. And while we had come up with a few strategies to make my killing him more likely, the odds of my surviving were still abysmally low.
After I climbed into the sedan, I finally allowed myself one last look at the woman I loved. My chest cracked at the sight of her. She was trembling, shoulders shaking like she was crying so hard, she needed the support of Hunter’s strong arm to escort her. I watched her disappear as the CIA agent closed the door, and I watched the jet taxi to the runway and then take off safely into the sky.
Part one of getting Ivy, her family, and my family to the airport without Vosch’s detection was done. It involved a lot of vehicles scattering in different directions, thinning the heard of any men who might be trying to follow us, until we were confident we’d arrived at the airport with only the CIA and security.
And now, it was time for part two—to meet Vosch.
71
GRAYSON