Page 54 of Gravehouse

His face changes, the last scrap of ease going cold, and I swear the air in the room turns thin.

“Gone.” His jaw sets on the word. “Whoever it was is gone.”

Dropping into a crouch beside me, glass crunches under his boot.

His hand closes around the back of my neck, locking me in place. “We’ll find them.”

That’s a promise in the only language I understand. Violence.

Water pounds my shoulders,shifting from pink to red to clear as I scrub Nonna’s blood from my skin. With every pass of my hands I shudder, the world tilting as her final words cycle on repeat.

“Le Boucher will take care of you Ivy. He always has, he’s the only one you can trus?—“

It’s nothing new. Iknowhe takes care of me, Iknowhe’s built these systems for our own good. The rest of the family don’t get it. Can’t see past the monster to find the man.

My forehead hits the tile as water continues pelt against my shoulders.

I should call him. I need to.

The bathroom door opens. I don’t need to look to know who owns those footsteps. They’ve always been weighted and deliberate. Back then I chalked it up to athleticism.

Now I’m wondering if I had it wrong from the start.

“Venom…” His hand flattens against the shower glass.

I don’t answer.

The door slides open, and he stands there a beat, jaw locked so hard the muscle jumps. His eyes drag over me, stopping on my face, and whatever anger he’s been carrying cracks open.

His hand flexes against the glass.

Whatever internal battle he’s fighting flashes over his face before he gives in with a deep exhale and steps under the water fully dressed, shrinking the space around us.

Two fingers slip beneath my chin, tipping my face toward him. Water runs from his dark lashes, tracing the hard line of his cheek.

I jerk free. “I’m fine.”

His face softens. “You’re bleeding.”

I look down, finding my knuckles torn open against the tile. When did that happen? I can’t remember. Blood stains the water around my feet, and my knees give way.

Asher catches me before I drop, fingers digging into my ribs as he hauls me up.

I want to fight him off. Want to claw at his chest for being here, for watching me break apart.

Arms slide under my thighs as he scoops me up, and we’re out of the shower before I can process, his foot kicking the faucet off on the way.

He sets me on the bed like I’m fragile, and I almost laugh because these hands he’s so worried about have ended more people than he can count.

“Tell me…” His knuckle drags slow along my jaw. “What did she say?”

Find the lawless butcher that terrifies most people but took care of us.

My throat closes around the truth. “She said goodbye.”

Asher slowly blinks. He knows I’m lying but can’t call me on it.

I should look away, maintain the make-believe boundary we both pretend exists, but then I remember what it felt like to not have him. His absence isn’t something I can handle right now, despite whatever hatred he has toward me.