Destroyed Destiny (Crowne Point Book 4)

by Mary Catherine Gebhard

  Fuck.

  “What an unfortunate end to an otherwise lovely evening,” Lynette said.

  My mother tilted her head on a smile. “It was lovely, wasn’t it?”

  “There might still be time for tea…”

  Slowly everyone disappeared inside for a quick tea before bed. With West’s arm tight around her waist, Story did the same.

  Against every muscle in my body, I stayed. I knew if I followed her, I’d rip her out of his hold.

  I’d throw her out of this house. The salty winter was safer than this prison of a castle.

  “Fuck.”

  I slammed my fist into the wall, plaster and stone falling around my knuckles.

  “Grayson?”

  I lifted my head, turning to find Story watching me with wide, walnut eyes.

  “Everyone is busy with tea… With Josephine,” she ended on a whisper. “No one noticed me come back. Am I crazy, or was that not an accident?”

  Not crazy, not even a little. I wrung out my wrist as she stepped to me, pulling my fist into her hands.

  “I know you didn’t like her—”

  “So you think I wanted her dead?”

  Her brow caved, hurt. “No. I was going to say I think this must be very painful and confusing.” She held my fist tight as I worked my jaw—because she was right, as always.

  She slid her hand down the stubble along my jaw. “Let me in.”

  “I’m supposed to save you, Story, not send you back to the villain.”

  “Me staying with West was always the plan. I’m more worried about you, and what they’re doing to you.”

  “He’s hurting you. That was never the plan.”

  “He didn’t hurt me—”

  “He’s hurting you, Story.” I spun us, until her back was flush against the wall, my fist caged between us.

  “There’s a briar caging your heart, little nun. Because of him, because of me, because of that night, I would rip it from you if I could. The longer you’re with him, the more it grows. Am I right?”

  “Are you asking me to run?”

  I slammed my other hand against the wall, next to her head, and closed my eyes, reining it in.

  When I spoke again, my voice was dark and edged, barely contained. “I need to protect you.”

  “Tell me what you know!” she demanded. “Tell me your secrets!”

  “Oh, he just realized what I did months ago.”

  West stood near the entrance to the hall, his body backlit by golden light so all you could see was his silhouette. He was a dark, shadowy monster as he came to us, his footfalls a low echo.

  Story gripped my fist tighter, like she knew I was about to spring off her and lunge at West.

  No.

  No.

  This could not be our only fucking option.

  “What is he talking about?” Story asked.

  West threw his arm around my shoulder. “We’re all on the same team now, Angel.”

  STORY

  “What is he talking about?” I asked.

  Grayson shoved West off him, but West grinned. “I’m right, aren’t I, Crowne?”

  West and Grayson shared another look, like they were speaking in a silent language.

  All Gray said was, “Shut the fuck up.”

  Yet his voice was the most serious I’d ever heard it.

  “Grayson?” I hated that my voice wavered. I’d like to think that I’d become stronger over the past few months.

  Grayson’s eyes finally found mine.

  Broken.

  And I stumbled, but he gripped my cheeks, dragging me back to him, eyes burning.

  “Stop.” I don’t know what I was asking for. I just know whatever caused the groove between his brows, the deadly timber in his voice, I need to end.

  His shoulders dropped, and the muscle in his golden jaw feathered.

  His stormy, ocean eyes traveled to my left, and I felt it again—they were talking. Even as he held my face in a death grip.

  “You’re scaring me, Grayson.”

  His stare flittered back to me, eyes narrowed, and he cursed.

  “Why don’t you ask Grayson, your infallible hero, why he didn’t think to warn you the most powerful men in the world think you’re the only thing standing in the way of the prize. That coin you’re after, the one you think will grant you your freedom from me—do you really think you can find it before my father? Before Beryl Crowne?”

  “I…” I stumbled, tongue thick. “What is he talking about?”

  “My grandfather and the du Lacs are looking for the coin, and they think you are the key to finding it.”

  My mouth dropped. “But I don’t…I don’t know where it is. If I did I would have told you!”

  “I know. I know, little wife.”

  “My grandfather won’t act until he’s one hundred percent certain. Right now it’s just a hunch.”

  I see now you’re more, Story. A different, deadlier breed of trash.

  Because you’d never expect anything of a servant, would you, Beryl?

  I was so sick of keeping my words in. Of being subservient and silent. And the one time I opened my mouth, I jammed a foot down my throat.

  “Oh my God.” I fell back.

  “What?” Grayson’s concern was faded into a buzz as adrenaline rushed through my ears.

  “Oh no…” I vaguely registered Grayson gripping my elbow. “Oh no, oh no.”

  I stared ahead.

  Unblinking.

  Until Grayson gripped my chin and forced my gaze to his. “Story, take a breath, and tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I confirmed it, didn’t I?” I asked, throat hoarse. “I just wanted to stand up for myself. I had no idea what he was talking about… What ice could she have slipped under? She was under the tree! It’s my fault. It’s all my fault—”

  Grayson cut me off with a hug, shoving my face into his chest. “It’s not your fault when a snake bites you.”

  I didn’t realize I was hyperventilating, that I was woozy, until they sat me down on a stone bench. I stared into both their eyes as West held one elbow, and Grayson the other.

  That was when it hit me: Grayson and West were standing side by side. Was what West said true? They knew the same amount of information, and I was in the dark. What the hell was happening? I shook them both off, standing up, putting space between us.

  “What the hell is going on here? Am I gonna end up like Josephine?”

  I didn’t get the answer to my questions, because our little bubble popped as the rest of the Crowne and du Lac family flooded the hallway while they made their way to bed.

  Grayson watched me with burning eyes as West led me to my tower.

  West leaned on my doorframe, watching me. He’d loosened his bow tie, his jacket discarded, as if getting comfortable—in my fucking doorway.

  I focused on anything else. Maybe if I ignored him long enough, he’d go away.

  All the questions I’d sought from Grayson, the ones clawing my chest, suddenly had answers, and they came in the form of Josephine’s pale face.

  I’d only just spoken with her; she’d just saved me from Beryl. Now she’s dead.

  Gone.

  My dress scraped along the hardwood floors, and anytime I turned, the circumference knocked into something—the wooden posts of my bed, the legs of my vanity.

  “Someone died tonight,” West said. “So your girl isn’t coming back. If you want out of your dress, it’s either me, or no one.”

  I’d worked long enough to know that nothing stopped a servant from getting to her mistress. Not a blizzard, definitely not a death.

  “I choose no one.”

  “Turn around.”

  “No.”

  He gripped my shoulders and spun me to face the black window. I stepped forward and he yanked me back by the shoulder, holding me in place, forcing me to stay.

  We reflected in the window as if caught in a lake’s nighttime waters, glossy and spotlit by the
moon.

  He pulled at the first set of laces, tugging gently. “Have you given thought to my proposition, Angel?”

  Sleep in his bed?

  It was on my mind. Maybe I didn’t have to choose him, maybe I could just sleep beside him and steal his phone, figure out a way inside.

  It would be better than doing nothing.

  But I stayed silent.

  Another lace was pulled, and my dress loosened further.

  Tug. “I won’t force you, Angel. In time, I think you’ll find me the best option.”

  I held in a scoff.

  Tug, pull, tug, pull.

  Until the final lace slipped through his fingers. He didn’t move away, his fingers tracing my bare spine. I ground my teeth.

  “You must have questions after tonight,” he said, voice rough.

  I was filled with them. But—“You think I’m going to ask you, West?”

  I spun around, my dress hung loosely off my shoulders, cleavage bared. His eyes fell to it, but I pressed on. “You think I want answers from you?”

  His jaw twerked, eyes flashing to mine. “Why not? I have them.”

  “Because I want the truth.”

  He stepped forward. “I’ll give it to you—”

  I let out an incredulous laugh. “From you? You don’t know how.”

  “Well,” he laughed, bitter. “Your truthful knight in shining armor has been keeping a lot of secrets from you. I thought you told each other everything, yet…I proposed this truce a day ago.”

  I chewed on my bottom lip, refusing to give him the reaction he wanted.

  After a minute, West kicked off the door. “Get used to the new normal. We’re on the same team now, Angel.”

  Twenty-Three

  STORY

  The problem with Grayson Crowne wasn’t that he’s a liar, it’s that he is a knight in shining armor, a savior, an Atlas. He refuses to accept any reality where he can’t save me.

  I need to protect you.

  I felt it bleed from him, into my soul.

  I saw the weight on his shoulders for months when he realized he’d have to leave his mom and sister, but he never let me take it off his shoulders. He’d rather suffocate under the weight.

  Now he was suffocating under another decision: leaving me with West.

  A knock on the windowpane sounded, one I discount for wind—it was snowing softly outside, a blustery cold night. Then another, harsher knock followed, and the window burst open, slamming against the wall.

  I turned as a breath of bitter cold, salty air rushed in, and then everything in me froze. I was certain I was losing it, conjuring ghosts.

  Grayson.

  Grayson, with the snowy stars his backdrop. Grayson, lifting himself onto my balcony and into my window, as if scaling the walls of Crowne Hall were normal. Grayson, gripping the top of the sill, biceps flexing with the movement.

  He found purchase, resting one leg into my room, and smiled at me crookedly, rose gold hair whipping in the wind. “I told you to lock your window.”

  I rushed to him, pulling him from the sill and into my bedroom before he fell. When he was inside, I leaned over the open window, staring down at the dark beach.

  “How…” I trailed off, wind whipping my curls around my face. It was so far down.

  Grayson wrapped his arms around me, pulling me back, lips at my neck. My vision blurred at the sensation.

  “What are you doing here?”

  He grinned, lopsided. “I’m here to rescue a princess.”

  He spun me around, so I could see the hot look in his eyes, then planted a fast, furious, harsh kiss on my lips.

  “Before I forget.” He reached into his back pocket, pulling out something slick and shiny.

  “A phone!”

  I held it close, like it was made of gold.

  “Thank you—” I broke off when his bruising grip slid up my inner thigh. “West is just outside the door.”

  His anger came off him in prickles I could feel on my skin.

  “Who do you belong to, Story?” His thumbs dug into my cheeks, and he bit my bottom lip, dragging it out with his teeth.

  “You,” I breathed.

  “Good little wife.” He lifted me off the floor, walking me back to the bed. “You’ll let me fuck you in this bed—in his bed,” he snarled the word his like he wanted to destroy it. “Because you’re mine. This whole house should be mine—the beach it’s on, the town it’s in.”

  Something primal inside him had snapped, his voice dark and warbled.

  “I missed your little nun nightgowns.” He pushed aside the panties I wore now, because I couldn’t not wear them when I was sleeping here. He found me wet, and his head fell between my shoulders on a groan I felt in my bones.

  “So fucking wet. Always so fucking wet.”

  He pressed me into the mattress and I swallowed hard as he circled me in a slow, torturous pace, never actually entering me.

  I could get lost in this, I could forget everything.

  “Let him come for you, let anyone come for you. Let them try to get through me.”

  I groaned into his mouth.

  “Yeah, just like that,” he growled.

  “Gray—” I started, but he cut me off with a kiss. He gripped my face, his strong fingers digging into my cheekbones, mouth slanting to get more of me. “Grayson!” He froze at the alarm in my voice, pulling back so his lips brushed mine. “You promised—we promised. We would do this with trust. Do you not trust me anymore?”

  “You are the only one I trust, little wife.”

  “You have so many secrets now,” I breathed. “You’re so far away.”

  He dragged his hand across his jaw, along the five o’clock shadow, something dark flickering in his eyes.

  In the end, all he said was, “You’re lying to me, too, little nun.”

  We stared at each other.

  “I thought it would be easy because we love each other but it’s harder,” I said. “Everything is so fucking hard.”

  He grasped my biceps, crushing his lips against mine. “Give it to me bloody, raw, and jagged, little nun. I miss bleeding with you.”

  GRAY

  With Story’s sideways view on the pillow, I trailed my fingers up and down her thigh.

  Nose to nose.

  Perfect.

  “Tell me everything,” she whispered.

  “You first,” I said. “Tell me everything that happened to you.”

  “He took me to Scotland. Some days it was beautiful. The songbirds sang every day and…” Her voice faded into the memory. I drifted my touch along her upper thigh, rounding the curve of her ass, waiting for her to come back to me.

  “And?” I prodded after a minute.

  She took the corner of her lip between her teeth. “And nothing. The days blended together.”

  She was still lying. Her letters told me as much, of the heartbreak and heartache she endured.

  “Did you forget?” I growled. “Your shadowy confessions belong to me.”

  Her brow caved, but only for a moment. “They beat me,” she said quietly, raspy. My expression must have betrayed my fury, because she added quickly, “It was nothing I couldn’t handle, Grayson.”

  My jaw was clenched so tight my neck strained, but I trailed a soft touch along her shoulder, her neck, until she closed her eyes.

  I tried to steady my breathing.

  This was her confession, and I wasn’t going to steal it with my reaction.

  “He slept in my bed…he made me. I felt so bad. I felt like I’d cheated.” Her eyes were still closed as she relayed parts of her trip to Scotland I’d since memorized. I wanted to rip the real confession out of her, pull the secrets like thorns from her chest. Why wouldn’t she tell me the truth like she had in the letters she sent me?

  I trailed my touch down the side of her face. “Did you remember me? Did you use memories as armor?”

  Her eyes popped open, then softened into a smile. “Yeah! I did. So
it didn’t hurt as much.”

  I trailed my touch along her cheek. “Good.”

  She leaned into my palm. “West remembered a poem I wrote all those years ago. That…really freaked me out. When West ghosted me, I wrote my first poem. I shared it with my uncle, and he started to encourage dreams I’d always considered fantasy. I never thought he’d remember, but he quoted it to me in Scotland.”

  “Tell me,” I said. “Tell me the poem.”

  “Put my heart in a cage…” she whispered.

  I closed my eyes and listened to her poem. Her poetry was always so fucking beautiful. Even back then, when she was just a teenager, she was so talented.

  “You’re gonna be fucking huge, Snitch,”

  She bit her bottom lip, looking away.

  “Please, tell me about you,” she said. “Tell me everything. Fill in all of the gaps. Like, why did the servants help you but why couldn’t I use them?”

  “You have…a following.” I dragged my nose up her neck.

  “But—” She broke off on a swallow, and I bit her throat where the skin moved. “They all hate me.”

  “Not all of them.” I lifted my head, serious. “Some follow you, but there is also an opposition. You saw what happened outside the tea room. It’s risky.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me all of this? You’ve been letting it wrap around your heart. I want to rip the thorns out. Tell me, please? Why didn’t you tell me about Josephine? Why didn’t you tell me about your grandfather?”

  Because I’m fucking terrified, and I feel like a coward.

  “I didn’t know how,” I said, low. “What would you have done if I told you the way my grandfather kept me in my wing wasn’t just with beatings, but with threats to my mother and sister every day you were gone?”

  Her lips parted. “I don’t know.” She placed a palm on my cheek, scooting closer to me, sharing my pillow. I dragged her thigh across my body and played with a stray curl that fell across her nose.

  “When you left, my grandfather called my bluff.” I drifted my touch to her rounded stomach as I went deeper into the memory. I focused on it, on the fact that she was here. “At the masquerade I told him I was going to destroy the company, destroy everything, but…then you were gone, and the company remained intact. At first, everything was…normal. Then they wanted to take the picture. Announce the pregnancy. Picturing your face seeing that…” I exhaled, shook my head. “I said no.”