Chapter 39

**A L E X**

I’m not running past the sea today to look for her. Grace Millers. I tell myself that. But as my feet pound the pavement, slick with morning dew, I stop, turning towards the horizon. The water’s still, untouched by anything except the faintest breeze. There’s no girl floating lazily in it, no red hair shimmering beneath the sun.
Good.

I turn away, continuing my run, but something gnaws at me. I’ve been trying to outrun it since I left the house this morning, but it’s there, sinking its teeth into the back of my mind.
I’m not going to check on her.

No.
I just need to grab some things from the beach house. Sculptures, mostly. The ones she might... break. Grace Millers has the temper of a viper and the carelessness of a child. She could destroy them. And that’s the only reason I’m heading there.

My legs move faster as I make my way back, cutting past Sophia’s place. Still quiet. I wonder if she’s sleeping in, then I wonder if Grace Millers is doing the same. It’s been an entire day since I brought her back to my house. Since I changed her bandage and stripped off those... awful clothes Rossi bought her. The thought of them clings to my mind like poison, the way she’d been wearing them so carelessly, so comfortably. Matt.
I still can't understand it. How did she come across him? Did she know him before this? She had to. I can’t not see it—Grace Millers, running into his arms. Her doe eyes all wide, looking for her next opportunity. Of course, she would. That’s how she operates. Sophia likes to believe she’s an innocent little friend, here for a birthday, but I’ve seen what she’s capable of. She’s cunning.

The way she picked the most expensive dress in the boutique, like it was her right. The way she looked at me when she tried it on, like she could control me, like she had any power over me with those full lips and that body. I should have known. I should have never left her alone for even a second. And with my card?

Stupid. Stupid.

So she ran out. Of course, she did. And somehow, she found him. My enemy.

What were they doing together? Walking around the market like old friends. Did he buy her things? Did he... touch her? Did he hurt her? How did she get that cut? The thought of him putting his hands on her—blood burns in my veins, every muscle in my body tightening to the point of snapping. I could kill him.

But then again, I should kill her too. Today. I’ll end this today. Get her out of my house, my life. I’ll expose her to Sophia. Tell her the truth. I don’t care if she’s hurt, if she cries. Grace Millers can’t stay here anymore. She’s dangerous. And after that, I’ll deal with Rossi.

I’m still in this storm of thoughts when I reach the steps to the beach house. The door swings open suddenly, catching me off guard, and I stop in my tracks, heart beating harder than it should.
For a second, I expect her to walk out. But it’s not her.

It’s him.

Rossi steps out into the light, his face so casual it makes my skin crawl. What the fuck was he doing in my house?

I don’t move. Every instinct in me says to lunge, to tear him apart, but I just stand there, watching him.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house?” My voice comes out colder than I expect, but it’s threaded with enough fury to shatter glass.

Matt looks at me, entirely unfazed. His fingers shake, and drops of water fall from them. Was he—? He couldn’t have been in my pool.

Disgust boils in my stomach, imagining what he could have been doing. With her.

“Relax, big boy,” Matt says, as if this is all some casual conversation. “You’re confusing me. You call it your house. She calls it hers. Whose house is it really?” He smirks like this is all a joke. “Or is it a shared property now?”

That smirk is going to get him killed.

I take a step forward, and Matt raises his hands, stepping back with a lazy laugh. “Okay, okay. No need for bloodshed. Not yet. I didn’t touch your pet, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

The way he says it cools the fury for a brief second, until he adds, “I only saw her. Saw enough.”

Enough?

The words tear at me. My hands move before I can stop them, grabbing his collar. I want to rip him apart, my fingers digging into the fabric just below his throat.

Matt laughs again, dark eyes shining with amusement. “Whoa, Moretti, too early for that. Save it for later. We’ve got weeks until Sophia’s birthday. At least let her cut her cake.” He says it like a joke but for some reason it sounds like a promise.