Grayson didn't remember the ride back. One second he was leaving Kane's penthouse with cops swarming behind him, the next he was shoving his key into the lock of the apartment he shared with Holly, his pulse still a freight train in his veins.
The door slammed open against the wall.
Holly sat at the tiny kitchen table, a book in her hands. She blinked at him like he'd just materialized out of nowhere.
"Gray? What the hell—"
"Pack," he barked. His voice came out rough, cracked, already fraying at the edges. "Now."
She frowned, closing the book slowly. "Pack? What are you—"
"I said pack!" The shout ripped out of him, sharp enough to make her flinch. His chest heaved. He dragged a hand through his hair, tried to steady himself, but the tremor in his fingers betrayed him.
"Jesus, Gray." Holly shoved back her chair, rising slow. Her eyes searched his face like she might find an answer there. "What happened?"
"No time." He was already moving — yanking open drawers, pulling out clothes, tossing them into a bag with frantic, clumsy motions. "Just—fuck, just trust me, okay? We have to go."
Holly hesitated, then grabbed her own duffel, following his lead. The apartment filled with the rustle of fabric, the scrape of zippers, the weight of fear hanging heavier than the walls themselves.
Grayson dropped to his knees at the closet, shoving boxes aside until his hand closed around the thick envelope Kane had given him weeks ago. Rent money. Survival money. He'd never touched it. Now it felt like the only lifeline left.
He shoved it deep into his jacket pocket, exhaling a shaky breath of relief.
"Gray—" Holly's voice was softer now, wary. "You're scaring me."
"Good," he snapped, not looking at her as he slung the bag over his shoulder. "Maybe you'll actually move faster."
Her mouth tightened, but she didn't argue. Ten minutes later, they were out the door, bags in hand, the night air biting as they hurried down the street.
The cab ride to the airport was a blur of neon and silence. Grayson stared out the window, jaw clenched so hard it hurt, the envelope burning against his chest. Every siren in the distance felt like it was coming for him.
At the terminal, they moved through the crowd, weaving past strangers with lives untouched by blood or cuffs or ties left on bodies.
Only when they hit the waiting area did Holly finally stop. She caught his arm, forcing him to look at her. Her eyes were wide, shining with something between fear and fury.
Her voice was barely above a whisper. "What have you done, Gray?"
Grayson didn't answer. Couldn't. He just stared at her, the question echoing in his skull like a curse. And for the first time, he wasn't sure if running would save them...or destroy them.