Grey: The Retribution (Spectrum Series Book 3)

by Allison White

  GREY 3:

  The retribution

  Spectrum Series

  PART THREE

  By Allison White

  Grey: The Retribution

  Copyright © 2018 by Allison White.

  All rights reserved.

  First Print Edition: August 2018

  Limitless Publishing, LLC

  Kailua, HI 96734

  www.limitlesspublishing.com

  Formatting: Limitless Publishing

  ISBN-13: 978-1-64034-418-1

  ISBN-10: 1-64034-418-7

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons—living or dead—is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To everyone reading this;

  from the bottom of my heart—thank you.

  Table of Content

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Chapter Fifty

  Prologue

  Liv

  “Grey!” I scream his name at the top of my lungs and chase after him. I watch his back muscles constrict and his hands ball into fists at my voice. A sharp pain ripples through me, like a furious wave. I am on the floor crying in pain when I realize it wasn’t just seeing the vile reaction I caused him, but actual physical pain. But it will never mount to the fiery sensation that is holding my chest hostage.

  I look down at my bleeding foot and the shards of the lamp he smashed in anger. I close my eyes in pain when I try to remove the large shard. Blood pours out like thick molasses. The cut is frighteningly deep. Too deep for me to chase after him. But I have to try. I can’t lose him. I love him. No matter how badly I have hurt him, I love him more than life itself. And I will not sit here helplessly and let him walk away. I need to talk to him. Help make him see.

  Grinding my teeth together, I curl my fingers around the large shard and count to three. One…two—I rip the glass out and throw it at the wall across from me. The pain that sweeps through my body—clinging to every tissue and nerve that keeps me alive—is unbearable. I feel like I’m going to pass out, but I need to find Grey. I need to talk to him. So, sucking in a deep breath and thinking of him and him only, I push myself onto my hands and use the wall next to me to stand.

  I limp to the elevator and chase him down to the ground level. I race out when the shaft comes to a stop. Snow sticks to my skin, and I whimper at the freezing cold wrapping around my bare arms and legs. He’s getting into his car, barefoot and shirtless. He’s in such a rush to get away from me. Away from his own home. It almost stings as much as the moment he pushed me against the wall. I could see it. The love and trust he had built for me—it all faded away the moment he read the fucking book. I wish I’d never written any of it. I wish I’d never met him, because then, I wouldn’t be feeling this heartbreak and he wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I wish I could go back and put the pen down and just forget him. But I didn’t, and now I have to fix this. Even if I have to bleed a little, I have to get to him.

  I stumble after him and call out his name in a hoarse tone. His eyes look in the rearview mirror, and he crooks a smirk at me, and I smile a brief smile. But then he flips me off and stomps on the gas pedal, flooring it out of his parking spot. I widen my eyes in panic and begin running after him. But then my wounded foot meets the sharp edges of the concrete, and I let out an animalistic howl and collapse to the ground.

  He’s gone.

  And I am left with the overwhelming feeling of my heart squeezing together, gravel in my mouth, and blood covering me, my head fuzzy, and my eyes bright. All because of that stupid book and that damned program. I just wanted to get in and jumpstart my dream career. And he was there. I hated him at the time. I thought it’d be an easy entry into the prestige program. But I fucking fell in love with him. But that didn’t stop me from continuing my journal entries. However, as the days passed and my love increased ridiculously high, they began to express my love for him and proposed a new theory. But it’s too late. He’s gone. And he read the worst of the worst.

  As a result, I lost the love of my life…forever.

  Chapter One

  Six Months Later

  The Miami sun beats down on me like a relentless tyrant. It soaks into my pores and causes a trail of sweat to travel down my temple and splash against the lounge chair beneath me. I shift in the chair and tip down the white floppy hat I despise but appreciate at the moment and pick up my ice-cold lemonade. In my head, I imagine I’m sitting on top of a submarine in the middle of Alaskan waters. But it does nothing to help the sun; it feels like it’s cranking up in the heat department. Jesus, I think. If I knew Miami would be so hot, I would have visited our cabin in Greenland. Or the North Pole. But no. My mother just had to have her beach house in the smack dab middle of Miami, Florida.

  I let out a bored sigh and crane my neck up, damning the sun’s rays that glare down at me. I deserve this wretched heat and the sunburn that I’ll undoubtedly get. I should be as red as those tomatoes my mother ordered the staff to plant. How foolish of me. I thought if I could slip into a bikini and throw on a ridiculous floppy hat and sipped lemonade by the pool, I would be able to forget about…him. But it’s harder than I thought it would be. Each second that passes feels like an eternity without him. What I did was wrong and unforgivable on too many levels to count. I reach down and mindlessly scratch an itch on my wrist. I miss him more than anything in the world.

  The first few days without him were the hardest. Despite what he demanded of me, I called and texted and left voicemails to no avail. He never answered my calls or texted me back. Even after I promised I would burn the book and pleaded for him to give me another chance. It’s funny how I was worried at first
that he’d break my heart; it turned out it was me who did that, but to him and me. And I hate myself for it. I really thought he’d mean nothing to me. But he did. He became a part of me. So, when he left, a large part of myself went with him, leaving me in this empty shell of a body, without a soul. Like a ghost without a body. A body without a pulse.

  After the first month, it finally sunk in that I was never going to see him ever again. And it hit me like a freight train. Before then, I had the tiniest sliver of hope that he was going to look back on our good moments, our connection, and call me back. But when he didn’t, and he never returned to the campus or class or any of the parties, I knew. Grey was gone. Never to return. Never to forgive me. Never to kiss me or make me angry. He left me, and he was justified in doing so. I broke the best thing that’d ever happened to me. And all for a fucking program.

  “Child, didn’t I tell you to put on your sunscreen before stepping out here?” Louise chastises me. I listen to her flip-flops slap against the tiles lining the rim of the pool in front of me. She moves behind me. Her hands are on me, covering—no, slathering—me with a cream I instantly identify as sunscreen.

  I roll my eyes as she rounds the chair and begins rubbing my chest.

  “Louise, stop babying me,” I whine, and she raises her eyebrows and smiles. I’m proving her point. “I’m fine,” I snap and swat her hands away. I pick up the lemonade beside me and sip frantically before crossing my arms. Through these thick sunglasses, I can see her frowning at me. “Why are you staring at me?” Why am I becoming so hostile?

  “Thinking about him again?” I hate when she uses that tone. It always makes me feel worse than I already feel. And I do not need any more guilt placed on me. I’ll be buried alive with it if she continues to pin me with that tone or the look she’s giving me right now.

  “Thinking about who?” I play dumb. When she raises her eyebrows and looks at me as if saying: You take me as a fool? I sigh and shrug. “How’d you know?”

  She glances down and says, “You’re playing with his charm.”

  I follow her eye trail and flush as red as my bikini top. “Oh.”

  She pauses and asks, “You want to talk about it?”

  I scoff and look away. “For the hundredth time? No, thanks. I think I have the moment I realized I screwed him over down well enough.” My lips twitch, but I straighten my posture and sit up, clutching the arms of the wooden chair; she backs up and gives me another look that sends my stomach into a washing machine routine. “Plus, talking about it won’t bring him back.”

  She opens her mouth but is cut off when Mason pops up from the water. His cocoa eyes widen as he shakes his head, sending droplets of water to land on my heated legs. Landing his gaze on mine, I send him a soft smile, and he swims over with high energy. I glance at Louise and lift an eyebrow, silently telling her to leave. She frowns deeply and clutches her floral dress. I widen my eyes and, muttering in Spanish, she hikes up her knee-length dress and walks back into the house. I know she only wants to help me get through this painful process of starting over minus…him…but no number of hugs or cups of tea will get him out of my mind. Especially not if I can’t even say his name.

  “How long was that?” Mason asks, exiting the pool. He pulls his trunks up around his waist and subtly pants for air; I give him his glass of dripping lemonade, and he plops into the chair next to me.

  I check my watch and lean back in my seat, facing him with a wide smile. “Three minutes and forty-two seconds.”

  Out of boredom, he and I have been clocking how long he can stay underwater without passing out. The last time he passed three minutes, I had to revive him and almost had a heart attack. We could go down to the boardwalk or explore the city, but we have, and now we are left with this childish game. I am so glad I brought him here for the summer. He has been my rock through my time at campus after everything that happened. Apparently, he was AWOL around Christmas because he had to call his sister and meet up with her. I thought it was terribly sweet. And now he’s here. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “How’re you doing?” he asks in a weird tone after putting his glass down. He scrunches his eyebrows together and leans on his elbows as he looks at me. I wish I could see past those glasses he’s slipped on.

  “Fine, why?” I’m grateful for mine.

  “You’re playing with that charm,” he says and nods at me. In the small span of time from when Louise caught me doing it, I’ve resorted to playing with it again. Why is it so easy for me to slip off into la-la-land and show when I’ve exited this plane? I should take it off and chuck it into the Atlantic Ocean. It’d be a tremendous step in my mission to move on. But I can’t. I can’t find it in me to do it, because it’d mean cutting my final tie with him. And I’m just not ready for that. Not yet, at least…

  “I am pathetic,” I groan into my palms.

  “You’re not pathetic,” he disagrees. I peek at his sparkling smile between my fingers. “You’re just still hung up on him. It’s natural…you loved him. And you don’t get over someone you love quickly. It’ll take time and trials and errors. You’re human, Liv.” His words offer a glimpse into the future, a future that stings when I realize it doesn’t have him in it. But it is a future where I’m not snapping at Louise or fidgeting like I have a bomb or lying awake thinking of lying on gravel, bleeding out. It’s a future that is pleasant and meant for me. Safe and content.

  “You’re right.” I smile appreciatively at him and reach over to take his hand in mine. He mirrors my smile, and I rub my thumb across his smooth skin. “How about we go for some ice cream? I feel like I’m sitting in a sauna in hell.”

  He laughs and nods. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll go in and throw on a shirt,” he informs me and stands, letting go of my hand. I let my hand fall onto my exposed stomach and raise a hand, opening my mouth, but he beats me to it. “I’ll grab you some shorts and a shirt while I’m at it.”

  “You’re a life saver.” I wink at him, and he rolls his eyes but smiles. I watch as he jogs into the house, leaving me to sit up and stare at the pool. I take off the huge sunglasses and run my hand through my hair. Tangled and tugging, I pinch the rubber band between my fingers as I stand. My hair falls over my shoulders, and I slip the band onto my wrist and smile, recalling the time Grey stole my hair bands and forced me to wear my hair down for the semester.

  I clam up and stare at the water. I thought his name. Damn it. I haven’t thought his name in so long, it was almost out of my head. But now that I just did, it won’t leave. Memories hit me from every corner of my brain, leaving me reeling back and clutching my eyes shut for support.

  “Get it under control, Liv,” I order myself and take deep breaths.

  I am almost under control when I hear a deep, unfamiliar voice.

  “Talking to yourself? Not the same Liv I remember.” I whip my head to the left and find a boy looking at me with a daunting smirk and a piercing gaze. My heart skips a beat. Not really a boy, but not a man. He looks to be about my age, maybe a year older, but not younger. Maybe it’s the way he stands tall or the glint in his emerald green eyes.

  “Who are you?” I ask him, curious as to how he got in. The only person who answers the door is Louise, and she wouldn’t just let some stranger in. Maybe he’s a son of some relative or one of the worker’s…?

  He tilts his head to the side, and his shaggy brown hair flops to the side.

  “What? Don’t remember your childhood friend?” he teases, and I instantly recognize that mocking tone. That and the way he walks with confidence—maybe a little too confident—closing the distance between us.

  “Noah? Noah Wells?” I question, not believing for a second this is the same boy who chased me around when we were eight and he stuck worms down my dress. He was a ruthless little boy who went away to military camp for a summer and came back even more equipped with knowledge on how to torture me.

  He stops a foot from me and grins from ear to ear, flashing me with
his pearly whites and a single dimple in his left cheek. “Live and in the flesh,” he confirms.

  I’m a little taken aback. What the hell is he doing here?

  “Our mothers thought it’d be best if we resumed our friendship,” he says, as if reading my mind or drawing a conclusion with my mouth on the floor and all.

  Mother, I spit in my head. Ever since she came to the hospital after I passed out from blood loss and I was driven to the hospital, she has been relentless at pointing out how right she was. She has gone back to controlling me and my future. For example, setting me up with a young heathen, all grown up. How wonderful is she?

  “So, aren’t you going to give me a hug?” He opens his arms.

  “Hey, Liv…who’s this?” Mason asks as he exits the house.

  I shift my eyes from him to Noah, who still has his arms out. “Rain check?” I walk around him, and he follows me over to Mason. I slowly frown at him. Still likes to follow me around, I see. “Mason, this is Noah Wells…an old friend of mine. Noah, this is Mason, my best friend.”

  “She forgot to mention we were once engaged, but old friend will suffice, I guess.” Noah thrusts his hand out and laughs when he looks at Mason’s confused expression. “Kidding, of course. She broke it off, and the candy ring I gave her, the night before.”

  “Right…” Mason looks at me, and I shrug, reflecting the same weirded outlook. Noah was always a tad…peculiar.

  They shake hands, and I grab Mason’s, facing Noah with a faux smile I have mastered over the years of dealing with my delirious mother.

  “Well, we have plans, so we’re going to leave. But maybe we can catch up later?” I inquire, and Noah nods, stuffing his hands into his khaki capri shorts.

  “Sure thing,” he says, and I smile wider, but for real this time.

  I swivel on my heels and take my clothes from Mason’s hands. Once we’re in the house, I step through the shorts as he talks.