Page 114 of The Grandest Game
“Avery Grambs killed my father.”
Chapter 82
LYRA
Lyra tried to sleep, and when she couldn’t, she ran to tire herself out so she could get some sleep before the next phase of the game, to silence the voices in her mind.
In the grandest of games, there are no coincidences.
A Hawthorne did this.
A Hawthorne.
There are always three.
Lyra just kept running. She pushed herself past the point of all endurance, and when everything hurt, when her body threatened to quit, Lyra forced herself to keep going until she couldn’t anymore.
Until she hit the ruins.
Her chest heaving, her muscles on fire, Lyra closed her eyes and paced her way through the charred and skeletal remains of the old mansion, out onto the ruined patio, right up to the edge of the cliff.
And just like that, Grayson was there. This time, Lyra felt his approach. She turned and opened her eyes.
“What we have,” Grayson told her, “what Odette gave us—it’s a start.”
A muscle in Lyra’s chest twinged. “There is nowe, Grayson.” Lyra looked down, then away—anywhere but at him. “You don’t have to keep playing. We made it out. You held up your end of the deal.”
“Rest assured, Lyra: I’m playing until the end.” There was no arguing with that voice. No arguing with Grayson Hawthorne.
She could onlyask. “Why?”
“I am afraid you will have to elaborate on that question.”
Lyra couldn’t keep herself from looking at him again, ripping him apart with her gaze, trying to see past the surface. “Why do you even care?”
About the Grandest Game.
About my father and omega.
About this.
About me.
“It’s clear enough now,” Grayson told her, “the mystery at hand concerns my family, too.”
“Right.” Lyra’s lips felt painfully dry—her mouth, too, and her throat. “Of course.”
What other answer had she expected? What other answer could there possibly be?
“Lyra.” That was a command, alook at me, a plea.
She did. Look at him.
“I have always cared.” Grayson’s words came out rough and raw. “When you were nothing but a voice on the other end of the phone calling me an asshole. Hanging up on me. Baring your soul in a tone that made it clear you don’t even know how to flinch. Andyour voice… just the sound of it, Lyra.” Grayson looked away, like looking at her was almost physically painful. “I always cared.”
Lyra shook her head, sending her dark hair flying. “And when you told me to stop calling,” she replied, more sharpness in her tone than she felt, “you didn’t mean it.”
There had been a moment, back in the Grandest Escape Room, when she’d believed him. Why was it so hard to believe that now?
