Chapter 36

**G R A C E**

My heart starts hammering in my chest the moment I hear his voice. Alex.

He’s here.

I freeze in place. I’m standing in the dressing room, staring at my reflection. The lights overhead are too bright, casting harsh shadows over the delicate fabric of the sundress clinging to my skin. I’d felt so comfortable in it when Matt had suggested me to put it on, when we walked through the streets and ate the pizza. But suddenly it feels foreign—like someone else’s clothes.
Suddenly I’m reminded that this isn’t the red dress. Not the one Alex saw me in. The one he touched me in. The one he would expect to see me in. I don’t hate it. But suddenly, it feels like a mistake.

Why is he here? Is he here for Matt?

I listen closer, the muffled voices beyond the curtain making it hard to follow. Matt’s voice is low, and Alex’s… He sounds pissed, but not at Matt for stealing his deal? I thought that’s why he’d come charging in. But no, it’s something else, something sharper. There’s an edge to his voice that sends a shiver down my spine.

I can’t hear what they’re saying, and that only makes my anxiety worse. I feel like a deer caught in headlights, unsure whether to run or stay hidden. But then, amidst the confusion, I hear Alex snap, “What is this doing here?”

I feel the blood drain from my face.

Oh, God.

The red dress. I left it out there, sitting by the counter like a bright, bold accusation. Alex knows. He’s seen it. He’s going to lose it. He’s already on edge—hell, he sounds furious—and now he’s holding *that* dress. The one I took when I ran. The one he *touched*. The one that still carries the weight of everything that happened between us. He’s going to be livid.


My pulse kicks into overdrive as I imagine his eyes narrowing, his anger boiling over when he realizes I’m here.
I take a shaky breath, trying to calm myself, but it’s no use. The tension outside is thick. I hear a sudden metallic click—something sharp, unsettling. A sound that makes my stomach churn, but I can’t place it. I hear Alex’s voice again—louder this time, more... desperate? Is he *concerned*?

He’s yelling. Yelling at Maria. Oh God, what’s happening out there?

My hands start to tremble. I hear more heavy steps, like people moving fast, closer to the dressing room. This is spiraling. My mind spins, trying to piece together what’s going on—why Alex is so angry, why Matt isn’t stopping this, why there’s so much... noise.


Why is this happening?

I can’t stay here. My heart is pounding, and every part of me is screaming to run, but where? And from what? I don’t even know what I’m walking into. Alex doesn’t know I’m here, right? He can’t be here for me.

But what if he is?

I swallow hard, pressing my palms against my knees, forcing myself to keep standing. My legs feel weak as I reach for the curtain, a thousand thoughts racing through my mind. Is he angry with Matt? Will Matt sell me out to save himself? I have no idea what’s happening, but I can’t hide forever.


One deep breath. I pull the curtain aside.

The sight that greets me makes my blood run cold.

Alex is standing there, facing Matt, but he’s not alone. There are men—so many men—surrounding them. And they’re all holding guns. **Guns**. My mind blanks for a second as I try to make sense of it. Why… why are there guns? Why does Alex have a gun?

I blink rapidly, squeezing my eyes shut for a moment, thinking I must be seeing things. But when I open them, nothing has changed. The guns are still there. The men are still tense, their fingers hovering near their triggers. And Alex… Alex is holding a gun at Matt.

I’m dizzy. I don’t know how to process this. I’ve hated and repelled crime for as long as I can remember. My mother, my father—they were taken from me by the very thing Alex is standing here representing. And now… now I’m surrounded by it.

But then my eyes lock on Alex. He turns toward me, and the look in his eyes makes my knees go weak. I expected rage—I expected the cold, dangerous anger I’ve seen in him before—but what I see is... something else. It’s something much more dangerous. His gaze softens in a way that terrifies me. It’s a softness that doesn’t belong on his face, not in this moment. Concern. Deep, fierce concern, but wrapped in something much darker. A violent kind of concern that grips me by the throat.

It shakes me to my core. I can’t breathe under that gaze.

What is this? Why does he look at me like that?

I can’t breathe. I can’t think. My body reacts before my mind does, and suddenly, my knees buckle. I don’t know why I’m doing this—I just want to disappear from all of it. So I let myself fall, my eyes fluttering shut as I hit the floor. Or, I almost do.

Strong arms catch me before I hit the ground.

Alex.

He’s holding me, cradling me in his arms like something precious. His grip is firm, possessive, and in that moment, I’m not sure if I should feel terrified or… something else entirely. My heart races, and I hate that I like the way his hands feel on me. I hate that the warmth of his chest against my side makes me feel safe. I hate all of it.

“Don’t even think about it,” Alex growls, and I hear footsteps—Matt, I think—but I don’t dare open my eyes. Alex’s voice is a low, dangerous warning, and I feel the tension in the room rise.

The next thing I know, I’m being lifted higher into his arms. He’s carrying me out of the store like I weigh nothing, barking orders to the men surrounding us. I can’t see them, but I hear them. The footsteps, the hurried movement. I feel the air shift as we step outside, the noise of the city faintly buzzing in the background.

Alex is moving quickly. The way he holds me is so different from the last time. Then, it was all about control, about getting me to fall in line with whatever he wanted. But now… now it’s like he’s afraid to let me go.

I don’t know what to make of it.

I feel the jolt as I’m lowered into the passenger seat of a car. His hands brush against my skin as he buckles the seatbelt around me, and I swallow hard, my throat tight. I should open my eyes, say something, **do** something—but I can’t. I just can’t.

Alex moves to the driver’s side, and I hear the car door slam shut trapping the heat of only the two of us in the small space. The engine roars to life, and I feel the motion as he drives, but everything feels surreal. My eyes stay closed, even when I want to peek. What would I even say if I opened them? What would I do?

But when I feel the car slow, my curiosity gets the better of me. I open my eyes, just a sliver, enough to see his profile—his jaw clenched, his eyes focused on the road. He turns his head, and I shut my eyes again, heart pounding.

Did he see me?

I don’t dare open them again. Instead, I let the sound of the road and the rumble of the engine lull me into an uneasy sleep, hoping that when I wake up, none of this will feel real.