Chapter 35

Ava’s POV

News of Grayson’s disappearance spread like wildfire, every news channel running the story. Different formats, languages, and words were used—but none used the word "dead." The missing person reports, coupled with the extensive damage to his car, suggested survival would require a miracle from the Moon Goddess herself.

Yes, his car was wrecked so badly that it seemed impossible for him to have survived.

But he couldn’t be dead. He was Grayson Blackwood. Too powerful, too important for death to claim him so easily. No matter how inevitable death was for all of us, I refused to believe it. They would find him. Alive.

Isabella’s voice broke into my thoughts. "Anything yet?" She’d entered the room unnoticed, her eyes fixed on Liam, who stood just inside the doorway. His expression told me everything.

"Nothing yet," Liam replied, his voice steady. "But I have everyone looking. They will find him." His gaze shifted to me, unwavering. "They will find him."

I nodded, my throat too tight to speak. What else could I do? What could anyone do? Liam’s calm logic was the only thing preventing me from joining the search. There was no point in my going out; no point in panicking. Staying put was best, as he’d reminded Isabella and me when we first arrived at Grayson’s estate: let the professionals handle this.

The sharp click of heels announced Elaine’s entrance, followed closely by Monica. Isabella’s eyes narrowed, and I gave her a warning look, silently pleading with her to avoid conflict. Not now.

Elaine crossed the room, wrapping her arms around Liam. "I just heard the news. Have they found him? They’ll find him, right? He can’t be dead. He’s Grayson."

For the first time, we actually agreed on something.

Liam gave her the same response he'd given us. "They will find him," he repeated, his voice unwavering. Then, his expression hardening, he turned to Monica. "You shouldn't be here."

Monica’s lips tightened. "Seriously, Liam? This isn't the time for that. Grayson is missing. We can continue with the ban once he’s found."

Liam stared at her for a long moment but said nothing. Monica glanced at me before quietly moving to sit in the corner, folding her arms. I exhaled, releasing some tension from my shoulders.

"Let's turn on the news. See what's happening," Isabella suggested, already reaching for the remote.

"No!" Elaine cut in, her voice cold and sharp. "Don't turn on any news. I don't want to hear what those idiots are saying about Grayson. They don't know him. They don't know anything!"

Isabella’s hand froze, her gaze swinging toward Elaine, her temper flaring. "They're reporting the facts! The facts that he's missing and the wreckage—"

"Just because the media feeds you sensational garbage doesn't mean they know the real Grayson. Just how powerful he is. We don't need to listen to them speculate."

"They're reporting what they know!" Isabella shot back, her eyes narrowing. "This is bigger than whatever ridiculous issues you have right now. Grayson is—"

"Don't you dare lecture me about Grayson!" Elaine spat, stepping toward her, eyes blazing. "I know him better than anyone else. You think turning on the news will help? Will that make him magically appear? No. So just sit down and stop acting like—"

I’d had enough. My patience snapped.

"Both of you, shut up!" The words exploded from me before I could stop myself. The room went silent. My heart pounded, but I didn’t care. "This isn't about you or your petty arguments. Grayson is missing, and if you can't wait here quietly, you both need to leave. Now."

Elaine’s eyes flashed with fury, and she took a step toward me. "Who the hell do you think—"

"Seriously, Elaine," Monica interrupted, her voice sharp but low. Her gaze settled on Elaine, cutting through the tension like a knife. "This isn't the time to argue. Please, just stop."

We all stared at her, surprised. Elaine opened her mouth to argue, but one look at Monica’s expression, and she snapped it shut.

And in that moment, something clicked inside me. I didn’t know Monica well—I hardly knew her at all—and I’d pegged her as manipulative or conniving. But now, in her gaze, I saw something real: concern, fear. She cared about Grayson. Really cared.

The room was thick with tension, the kind that made it hard to breathe. Liam’s phone rang, cutting through the silence like a knife. His jaw clenched as he stepped away, answering with a calm that didn’t match the storm brewing in the room. I watched him closely, hoping for any sign of good news.

Isabella folded her arms, glaring at the floor. I sighed, trying to find the right words to calm her. "You know I love you, Bels, but sometimes… you don’t know when to stop."

She huffed, her irritation simmering. I moved closer, lowering my voice. "I’m sorry I yelled at you. Really, I am. But picking a fight with her right now? It’s pointless, even though she’s annoying."

"Extremely annoying," Isabella sniffled, the fight slowly draining from her. I wrapped my arms around her, offering a small smile. "I know. And I’m sorry. Come here."

She leaned into me, her grip tightening. I whispered, "Just don’t engage with her anymore, okay?"

"As if I even want to talk to her in the first place," came Elaine’s voice from across the room. Isabella and I both looked up, meeting her cold stare. "Werewolf hearing, remember? And if anyone here is annoying, it's both of you."

I sighed again, silently pleading with Isabella not to react. Elaine thrived on confrontation, and engaging her would only worsen things. We had bigger problems. Picking fights wouldn’t help anyone.

Just then, Liam returned, his face unreadable. "Turn on the news."

Elaine opened her mouth to protest, but Liam cut her off sharply. "I'm not asking."

She snapped her mouth shut, and I reached for the remote, turning on the TV. The screen flickered to life, and the reporter’s face appeared, framed by the dark woods behind her. My heart pounded as she began to speak.

"We are live from the outskirts of Silvermist Forest, where a cabin has been discovered burned to the ground. Among the wreckage, investigators have found fragments of burnt clothing and what appears to be an expensive wristwatch. While the owner has not yet been identified, the proximity of the wreckage to the recent car accident involving billionaire Grayson Blackwood has raised suspicions."

The camera cut to a close-up of the charred remains. My stomach twisted as I spotted the wristwatch lying in the ash.

"That’s Grayson’s!" Elaine gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

The camera switched back to the reporter, her tone grave. "While authorities have yet to confirm the identity of the person or persons who may have been in the cabin, they believe the watch—a Patek Philippe—belongs to billionaire Grayson Blackwood. However, a body has still not been found."

My hands clenched into fists.

"If they're going to talk about the watch, they should at least get the brand right." A bored voice suddenly filtered through the room.

Just then, Elaine shouted his name, her voice full of disbelief and relief, before bolting across the room. My head snapped in the direction of her gaze, my heart nearly stopping as I saw him.

Grayson.

He stood at the other entrance to the room, as if he hadn’t just been the subject of every headline in the country. He looked immaculate, not a wrinkle in his suit, his expression as cold and composed as ever. He was staring right at me, those gray eyes piercing through the chaos that had been spinning in my mind for hours.

Elaine threw herself at him, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck. He stiffened under her touch, his posture rigid, before reluctantly placing his hands on her back. It was barely an embrace, more a matter of obligation than comfort.

I blinked, my brain trying to catch up with what my eyes were seeing. Grayson was here. Alive. Standing right here, as if he hadn’t just been the focus of a nightmare report.

The relief that flooded me was so sudden, so overwhelming, that I almost felt dizzy.

A second passed, and then his voice cut through the room again—calm, even, ice-cold—directed straight at me: "Grab a coat. You and I are going to see your father."