Chapter 116

Ava’s POV

Sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, piercing the haze in my mind. As I stirred, a sharp throb shot through my head, and my entire body ached. It took a moment for my brain to catch up, but then the events of last night hit me like a freight train: Grayson’s cold, cutting words; the bar; the fight with Isabella; the man—the man I killed.

The memory slammed into me with such force that I bolted upright, my heart hammering. My gaze darted around the unfamiliar room. Where was I? What was I doing here?

I should be locked up. I turned myself in. The details after that were a blur, fragmented and fuzzy, but I couldn’t waste time piecing them together. I needed to leave—to find out where I was and how to fix this.

That’s when the door opened.

And, of course, it was him.

Grayson stepped in, calm and composed as always, but the moment our eyes met, I saw it—a flicker of anger, brief and sharp, before his expression turned as cold as stone.

“You’re awake,” he said, his tone flat, almost indifferent, but with an edge.

“What is the meaning of this, Grayson? Where am I?”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Paris.”

I swung my legs off the bed, ignoring the lingering ache. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Take me back home. Right now.”

“Why?” His eyes narrowed, glinting like steel. “So you can turn yourself in again? You took stupidity to a whole new level last night, Ava.”

His calm, matter-of-fact tone made my blood boil. “Of all the insults, don’t call me stupid. I’m not stupid. I committed a crime, and I did the right thing by turning myself in. I should be in prison. So, if you’ll excuse me—”

I moved to push past him, but he didn’t budge. His towering form blocked the doorway, and his voice dropped to an icy growl.

“Going to the station was the least of what you did. What were you thinking, dragging my men into some half-baked plan to take down a man by yourself?”

Oh, goddess. Jeremy. I hadn’t even thought about him.

Still, I snapped back, “Well, excuse me for trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help,” he said sharply, his voice cutting through me like a blade. “I can handle my business myself. Do you have any idea what you’ve done? People got hurt because of your recklessness. You just don’t listen, and you don’t know when to stop.”

“Well, then leave me alone!” I shouted, my anger boiling over. “If I’m such a headache, why don’t you walk away? Since when do you care about anyone or their feelings, huh? Or is this about your wolf? You’re becoming human, so now you’re trying to act human? Sucks to be you.”

The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. The flash of pain in his eyes was fleeting, gone before I could truly register it, replaced by the same cold, detached mask he always wore.

I backed away, needing distance. “I want to go back. I need to call Isabella, apologize. I have to check on Jeremy, make sure he’s okay. I have to face the consequences of my actions. I killed someone, Grayson.”

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he moved forward and tossed a file onto the side table, his movements controlled and deliberate. “Dilton Stevens. Haloway Philips. Leon Andrew—or as he’s been calling himself lately, James Lawson. He’s wanted in three different cities for doing to women what I believe he was about to do to you.”

I stared at the file, my chest tightening, but I didn’t reach for it. My gaze shifted back to him, and I saw the anger simmering beneath his calm exterior. “It doesn’t matter. I’m capable of making my own decisions. You had no right to do whatever you did to get me out of jail. And you sure as hell had no right to fly me to another country without my permission. Where the hell am I?”

“One of my houses,” he said, his voice neutral, but the look in his eyes told a different story.

“Of course it is,” I scoffed, throwing my hands up. “Well, take me back. I’d like to get back to making stupid decisions because apparently, that’s all I’m good for.”

“I didn’t say you were stupid.”

I ignored him, brushing past, but his hand shot out, gripping my arm. His fingers were firm, unyielding, but it wasn’t his touch that stopped me—it was the look in his eyes. Cold. Hard. Yet, somehow, I felt the force of his anger like a storm ready to break.

“Stop with the attitude,” he said quietly, his voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “You’re starting to get on my nerves.”

“Let go of me!” I snapped, trying to yank my arm free, but his grip only tightened.

“I’m sick of this,” he snapped, “Sick of you throwing yourself into danger like you’re some martyr. Sick of your constant need to fight me on everything.”

“Then let me go!” I spat, shoving at his chest with my free hand. “If you’re so sick of me, Grayson, leave me alone! You don’t own me. You don’t—”

I didn’t get to finish my sentence because his mouth crashed down on mine, cutting off my words. The kiss wasn’t gentle or sweet. It was a battle of teeth and tongues, a clash of anger and something deeper, something primal that neither of us could seem to control. His other hand tangled in my hair, tugging hard enough to make me gasp, and he used the moment to deepen the kiss, his tongue dominating mine.

“Stop talking,” he growled against my lips, his breath hot and ragged. “For once in your life, just stop.”

I slapped his chest, trying to push him away, but it was useless. His body was a solid wall, his strength overwhelming. “Let me go!” I demanded again, my voice muffled as his lips moved to my jaw, then my neck, his teeth scraping against my skin in a way that sent a shiver down my spine.

His hands slid to my waist and hauled me closer. “I’ve had enough of your reckless decisions, your constant defiance. You think you can walk away from me? From this?” His hands tightened, his fingers digging into my hips, and I couldn’t stop the involuntary gasp that escaped me.

“Grayson…” I tried to sound indignant, tried to fight the pull he had on me, but my voice came out breathy, my resolve slipping with every second.

“Don’t say my name like that,” he bit out, his hands moving to the buttons of my shirt. “Not when you’re lying to yourself about what you want.”

“I’m not—”

But he didn’t let me finish. His hands tore my shirt open, buttons flying in every direction, and the sound of fabric ripping filled the room. My bra was next, his fingers making quick work of it before it joined my ruined shirt on the floor.

“You drive me insane,” he muttered, his mouth returning to my neck, his teeth and tongue leaving a trail of fire down my skin. “You’re reckless. Stubborn. Infuriating. And I can’t fucking stay away from you.”

I wanted to argue, to tell him he was the one who drove me insane, but my body betrayed me. My hands found their way to his hair, tugging hard as he pressed me against the wall, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat between us. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me effortlessly, and I instinctively wrapped my legs around his waist.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he growled, his teeth grazing my collarbone. “To push me until I snapped? Well, congratulations, Ava. You’ve got me.”

“Grayson…” My voice was a mix of frustration and need, my nails digging into his shoulders as his hands roamed over my body, his touch rough and possessive. “You’re an ass—”

He cut me off with another bruising kiss, his hips grinding against mine, as he undid his belt and I couldn’t stop the moan that escaped me. “You’re mine,” he said against my lips, his voice dark and low, “You wear my mark. Do you hear me? Mine.”

His words made something inside me snap, my anger and desire blending into a chaotic storm that I couldn’t control. “I hate you,” I spat, my nails raking down his back.

“Good,” he growled, his hands sliding under my skirt and ripping my panties off in one swift motion. “Hate me all you want. It won’t change this.”

Before I could respond, he thrust into me, and the world tilted on its axis. The intensity of it stole my breath, my body arching against him as he moved, each thrust hard and punishing.

“You drive me fucking insane,” he muttered, his hands gripping my hips as he set a brutal pace. “Always running your mouth, always defying me.”

“And you’re a control freak,” I shot back, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “Always trying to tell me what to do.”

“Because you need someone to keep you in line,” he bit out, his teeth grazing my earlobe.

“I don’t need you,” I lied, my body betraying me as I tightened around him, my nails scraping against his skin.

“Liar,” he growled, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that was more bite than anything else. “You can’t stay away from me, just like I can’t stay away from you.”

His words hit too close to home, but I was too far gone to care. The only thing that mattered was the way he felt, the way his hands gripped me like he was afraid to let go, the way his body moved against mine like he was trying to prove a point.

The anger between us only fueled the fire, every touch, every kiss, every thrust a battle for control that neither of us could win.

I hated him.

I wanted him.

I needed him.

And just maybe… I even loved him.