Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3)

by Allison White

  This rage, this undying and irrevocable rage in me, it is growing with each step that I take. Rage at Liv for kissing that asshole, rage at myself for caring—just rage. I can feel my insides melt into liquid. I can taste it twirling on my tongue like it’s a freaking ballerina. I can see it in flaming hot red in everything and every person I pass.

  I just want it to stop. I want everything to just stop. For a moment, I want to be able to breathe; I want to just be here and not feel this negativity sitting on my chest like it belongs here more than me.

  Maybe it does.

  Maybe I am just the host for a malignant thing meant to overrule me.

  Then I am nothing.

  The sound of thick laughter and the flickering of lighters snaps me out of my fucked-up head.

  I look around, confused, expecting to see men training in, but instead I find guys smoking and girls lounging around in tight shirts and tattoos. I’m at the “Dive-in,” otherwise known as the headquarters of the Wild Knights, the gang I’m in. It used to be a dive bar, but Dean took it over just because he wanted to. The man basically has power over the city at night. Everyone shakes in their boots just at the mention of his name.

  I have no idea why I came here instead of the gym, maybe because I could use some relief from this world via drugs?

  “Grey!” Dean spots me before I can slip out.

  I walk over to him, two girls under each of his arms, wielding a blunt in and out of his mouth.

  “What’s up?” I nod at him, subtly catching my breath.

  But I can’t get rid of the red tint to my skin. Though, since it is pissing rain outside, I can imagine my sweat mingles with the rain drops rolling down my bare chest. The girls ogle me silently, admiring my dark tattoos and fit physique. I give them a wink, and they giggle. Dean smirks at me appreciatively.

  “I thought you were gonna come in after training,” he says, breathing out a thick smoke puff.

  I shrug and rub my neck. “I left earlier…went out for a run to clear my head.”

  He nods and narrows his eyes slightly. “Sure about that?”

  I nod. “Very.”

  He nods again, then laughs. “Then what’s up with the blood dripping from your hands?”

  I freeze and raise my hands. Sure enough, there is blood seeping out of fingernail-sized wounds. I must have been gripping them too hard as I ran.

  “Like I said.” I drop my hands and give a shrug. “I had to clear my head.”

  He leans forward and furrows his brows as he gains control of the blunt. “And what is it that you had to clear from your…head?”

  I pause for a few beats, then shrug wordlessly.

  He’s worried I’m thinking about Liv. Apparently, she’s on his radar now, and he’s “concerned” my work here will be affected. Even though I’ve told him time and time again that this gang is my main concern, he thinks I’ll slip and let my emotions be controlled by another girl…the last being Rose. But I’ve assured both him and myself that I will not think about her, that this gang and my fights are more vital than any girl…he’d lose his shit if he knew she’s all I can think about, every second of every Goddamn day.

  His lips twitch into an unsettling smile as he leans back and lets out a heavy sigh full of gray smoke. “You just better keep that head of yours clear,” his raspy voice commands, and I give a tight nod. His lips glitch before he licks his lips and screws up his eyebrows; his eyes are slits. “I wouldn’t want to have to get in there and clear it myself. You know how I take care of business, G. I don’t wanna make any more of a mess up there in that crazy noggin of yours.”

  My body goes rigid, but I nod again and say, “I understand, D.”

  He takes a long drag, exhales through his nose like a dragon, then whispers, “You got a run to do, kid. And when you’re done…” His eyes grow cold, and his laugh bellows through the foggy air. “You can get a slice of any girl in this joint.”

  ***

  The door slams harder than I intended.

  “Shit,” I curse under my breath. A giggle follows behind, and I know for a fact I’m way too fucked up to be standing. I kick off my boots and shrug off my jacket. I accidentally stumble over the boots and push a table that has a vase on it. The glass smashes against the hardwood floor, and I laugh like it’s the funniest thing in the entire world. “Whoopsie daisy.”

  After my run, which is essentially making sure no other gang is fucking with our territory, and a little dealing, Dean took me and some of the other guys out clubbing. I drowned all my fucked-up thoughts and sorrow in the strongest liquor I could get my hand on and smoked the strongest herbs brought to me.

  So to say I am fucked up would be a tragic understatement.

  “Grey?” Rose says softly as she turns on a light.

  I groan as I fall on one of the kitchen stools. “Not here at the moment,” I tell her with a drowsy smile.

  She rushes over to me and tilts my head back, peering into my red eyes. “Oh, jeez. You’re high and drunk, aren’t you?” she says, pissed.

  “Maybe, who knows?”

  “Your eyes, and you reek of it,” she says, scrunching up her nose. “What has gotten into you?”

  I proper whimper. “Her,” I grumble.

  She looks confused, then sighs and nods while wrapping her arms around me. “Come on, big boy. I’m putting you down.”

  I let her pull me up to my feet. I feel hot tears well in my eyes as I lean over and play with her curly red hair.

  “I saw her and him…kissing.” I suck in a deep breath and let out a breathy laugh. “She’s so fucking happy with him. Why can’t I be happy too, Rose?” I stop hobbling along the hallway she’s dragging me down and push her against the wall. “I want to be happy too.” I lean down and kiss her neck. She moans and holds my shoulders.

  “What are you doing, Grey?” she breathes. “You’re not in your right mind.”

  “So what?” I grab her hands and raise them up on the wall. I skim my teeth along her earlobe just the way she likes it, and she moans in return. “I want to be fucking happy too, Rose.” I groan and kiss all the way up her neck to her mouth.

  She moans my name as I kiss her open mouth, tongues flush and teeth grazing. It’s sloppy and heated and…no sparks. Why aren’t there any sparks? Where’s the fire swirling in the pit of my stomach? Where’s her smile against my lips? Where’s her gripping my hair, me lifting her and wrapping her legs around my waist? Where’s our laughter as I lead us to the bedroom and kiss every inch of her soft skin?

  “Where is it?” I kiss harder, breathing hard as I grip her hands tighter. I search every inch of her mouth for that spot that always makes her giggle. I rub my thumbs on her skin; that would instantly make her smile when she doesn’t think I’m looking. I do everything in my power to just find…her. But I can’t. She’s fucking hiding from me!

  “Grey,” she says, pushing against my shoulder. “Stop,” she mumbles.

  I pull back and groan, frustrated, as tears flow down my cheeks. “Where is she? Huh? Where is my fucking happiness?” I smash my lips against her and begin sobbing, every emotion known to man hitting me square in the gut. “Taste like her. Fucking taste like her, damnit!” I let her hands go and smash my hands through the wall.

  “Grey!” she screams and pushes me back.

  I stumble into the opposite wall and fall to the ground.

  She falls to her knees, and her hands and eyes search my face, but I close my eyes and feel my body shake as I let it all out.

  “What the hell is wrong?” she sighs, worry thick in her sweet, sweet voice…but it isn’t hers.

  I reach out and pull her to me, forehead against forehead, hands mingled in her hair.

  I softly touch her lips with mine and wheeze out when she stays still, letting me lose my mind, “Just taste like her…please. T-taste like her.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Liv

  The next morning, I spend the day in the sun room belting out eve
ry Baroque piano composition I know, which is all of them. My eyes are heavy, and yawns escape my lips due to my lack of sleep. By the time I dive right into the fiftieth, my fingers are on fire and my foot is cramped from hitting the pedals, but I welcome the pain. I welcome the discomfort and the aching of my bones, because without it, I’d be numb, and everything I’ve been avoiding will crash back into me in one single blow.

  And it all started when Noah kissed me.

  I didn’t see it coming, and when he pressed his soft lips to mine…I saw the heavens. I felt fireworks, volcanic explosions, the stars aligned—all the cheesy descriptions of “the perfect kiss” in romance novels. It was all there in a pair of lips I never expected to meet mine. It was just…perfect. Better than Grey when he kissed me, because I saw the light and means for a better future with passion, love, and…

  Lies.

  I felt nothing. Not a spark, not a tingle. No fires, no smile, no hands cupping the back of my neck—nothing.

  And I tried my best to find even a little something. I held him, and I kissed him deeper, and he held me back…but I felt so uncomfortable. So I pushed and pushed, but still, I found nothing.

  I can’t even lie to myself correctly because he just keeps popping in my mind. The way he used to hold me like we were plummeting to the ground and he didn’t want to ever let go. The way his mouth melded against mine like a missing piece. The way he always knew how to make me laugh when he found a certain spot. The way his body was rock hard while mine was softer and straddling him and moving against him.

  I stop playing as I imagine him next to me now, hands flush against mine, my head leaning against his shoulder as I play.

  But I shake my head and the silly imagination out of my head and continue playing.

  I wasn’t able to sleep last night. No matter how many sheep counted, minutes used to count my breaths—just about every technique I could Google to help me fall asleep. Nothing worked. My mind was, and still is, too worked up to let me get even a second of rest. Sometimes, I wish I could just switch off my brain for a day of clarity.

  I could only think about the start of what is supposed to be the first step toward the better. Noah and I are meant to be together; at least, that’s what our parents say. We are supposed to kiss and fall in love and move in together and get married and have kids and just have the most perfect family with the most perfect life.

  Not Grey and me.

  Grey and I were a fluke. A glitch in Noah’s and my happily ever after. He was a hot-headed, fucked-up, passionate accident. I was supposed to ignore his arrogant challenge of attending that frat party. I was supposed to stay in my room that night. I was supposed to avoid him and not pay him any mind. I was supposed to focus on school and not miss any classes to play pool or visit a serene cliff or get on a motorcycle with him.

  I was supposed to live life without knowing what a true heartbreak feels like.

  I was never supposed to know that your chest feels like it’s caving in on you. I was never supposed to know that each breath feels like it should be your last. I was never supposed to know that you will cry and cry until you feel like there is nothing left in you, but you continue and soon expect your own blood will join the puddle of despair at your feet. I was never supposed to know that, when you feel an all-consuming love of passion and completeness and euphoria, and when it is gone…you feel like you will never be able to live without it.

  “Hey.” I stop playing at Charlotte’s entrance. “What are you doing in here all by yourself?” I shrug and stay silent as she walks over and sits next to me. When I don’t speak up, she sighs and asks, “Are you going to tell me why I found you wet and crying in your room yesterday?”

  She’s referring to when I ran inside after searching but finding nothing in Noah’s kiss. Speaking of which, I’ve ignored every call and text message he’s sent me since. He even sat outside my bedroom door when I locked it but left when Louise found him asleep. He waited hours and hours, but I just couldn’t face him. Not in the state I was in.

  I don’t know where we go from here. Do we try dating when I felt not even a drip of anything in our kiss? Does he even feel something for me, or was it to just test out what he is supposed to endure in the near future? Do I even want something with him? I may not have felt anything yesterday, but I’m sure I can make a spark light, right? Actors make it look like there’s ultra-chemistry between their on-screen partners, so why can’t I do the same?

  Charlotte nudges me, and I blink as she says, “Where’d you go just now?”

  “Nowhere,” I tell her, my throat chalky from my constant crying.

  “You sure about that? Because you were just staring into space with a blank look on your face just now.”

  I tap a key to drown out of her voice, but she grapples my wrist, stopping me from playing.

  I sigh. “I’m fine, Char.”

  “No, you’re not.” She lets my wrists go and pulls my chin up and around, so I’m facing her concerned expression. “Tell me what happened—what’s going on right now. I mean it when I say I am your sister and I will always be there for you. Let me be here for you now.”

  I look into her gleaming brown eyes, the slight frown on her lips, and the slouch of her shoulders. She cares; she always does. Maybe she can’t help, but the least I can do is talk to her.

  “Noah kissed me yesterday,” I say in a small voice.

  She breaks into a nervous grin. “That’s great…right?”

  I begin to nod, then end up shaking my head. “I guess…but I don’t know.”

  “Is it that he’s a sucky kisser?” she questions with a little smile. “Because I don’t think anyone can be worse than Dante Morgan. Do you remember him?”

  “The guy you had your first kiss with?” I laugh, eyes squeezing shut. “He was all tongue and apparently all teeth.”

  She nods, laughing. “I went home to Mom with a bleeding tongue and split lip.”

  I can’t stop laughing.

  “I still feel bad for you,” I tell her, calming down as her laughter dies down.

  “And I feel envious of you.” She bumps her shoulder with mine, a ghosted smile on her lips. “You made out with a ten out of ten hottie.”

  I tense at the mention of him, then sigh and look at the piano keys again. “Yeah…I did.”

  And I miss his lips more than anything in the world.

  “So that’s why you’re upset? Did he bite your tongue off?” She playfully tips my head back and tugs at my bottom lip. I laugh lightly and shake my head solemnly. She draws her hands back and randomly taps a low key. “Then I’m guessing you’re still thinking about that Grey guy…”

  “Mm-hmmm,” is my reply.

  “Fuck,” she curses and turns to me again. “You’re never going to get over him, are you?”

  I face her and, with tears streaming down my face, I shake my head with a pathetic half-smile. “No, I don’t think so.”

  I look away and try my best to keep the rest in, but the barrier holding everything back cracks inch by inch with every key I tap…and then all hell pours through. I sob and watch as the thick drop splashes on a white key, then a black one, then I can’t hold back anymore. I am crying my frustrations, my desires, my future—everything, onto these keys. And I feel her heart break next to mine as she wraps her arms around me and kisses my head and whispers soothing things in my ear.

  But no amount of words can glue back together the damage raging within me.

  ***

  Two hours later, I watch as a pair of twins giggles while playing tag around their mother’s legs. They look so happy, so innocent—I am completely envious of them. They haven’t experienced this bitter, cold feeling of heartbreak or sorrow.

  I sigh as I rip my eyes away from them and listen to the clinging sound as I stir the spoon in my coffee. There’s no sugar or cream in it that I have to mix; I just can’t deal with looking at people who aren’t dying on the inside.

  I sound so freaking depres
sed, probably because I am…

  I sigh again and take a drink from my hot mug.

  I’m here in this coffee shop because, weirdly enough, Rose called and said she has something important to tell me. I have no idea what that can be, but once she mentioned coffee, I agreed and left the house without hesitation. What I need is piping, black coffee and some fresh air, away from the house and away from that beautiful piano that only belts out solemn songs at the command of my fingers.

  I have downed half of the mug when the door’s bell rings. I look up and find Rose in the doorway, dressed in a sea-green dress that makes her blue eyes pop, paired with white wedges. Of course, she looks amazing, even when it is nearing one hundred degrees outside. She makes my simple yellow tank top and khaki shorts look like peasant clothes while she looks like a beautiful princess.

  “Over here, Rose.” I wave my hand, and she spots me and smiles, but something is off. Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Is there something wrong and she needs a friend to talk to? If so, why talk to your boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend about your woes…?

  “Hello, Liv,” she says, and I stand to hug her.

  “Are you okay?” I ask, genuinely concerned. She’s a sweet girl, and I don’t want to see her upset.

  “I’m fine, thank you for asking,” she says, smiling from ear to ear.

  I don’t say anything but look at her, trying to find the truth in her face, as she orders a caramel ice coffee.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” I question, watching the way she nervously plays with a can of cream in the middle of the table.

  She pulls back with flushed cheeks, caught in the act. “Yes, yes—I’m sure.” There goes that charming smile of hers again, but it isn’t enough to fool me.

  “Okay, if you say so…” I spin my spoon in my plain coffee again for a few moments, unsure of what to say.