Chapter 33

Kayla

I pulled the chair closer to the table and sat down across from Grace, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible. She looked even more fragile up close, her hollow cheeks and sunken eyes making her seem far older than she probably was. Her wrists were still bound, resting limply on the table, and her hair hung in greasy clumps around her face.

“Do you need anything to be more comfortable?” I asked softly. The last thing I wanted was to scare her off again.

Grace’s eyes darted up to mine. For a moment, she said nothing, her lips pressed into a thin line as if trying to figure out my angle. Finally, she spoke, her voice hoarse. “Why do you care?” she muttered.

I shrugged and leaned back slightly in my chair. “Because I don’t believe in making someone suffer unnecessarily. Even if you think I’m trying to butter you up… wouldn’t you take a hot meal and something warm to wear in exchange for a little information?”

She flinched at the word “information,” but her shoulders eased ever so slightly. I waited, giving her time to consider the offer. It wasn’t a trick—I genuinely wanted to help her. If nothing else, it might get her to open up.

Finally, Grace swallowed hard and whispered, “Food. A blanket. Clean clothes. That would be a start.”

“Anything else?” I prompted gently.

Her gaze flickered to the side before she shook her head. “That’s it, I guess.”

“Alright,” I said, standing. “Give me a minute.”

I marched out of the room and into the hallway, where Nicholas and Noah were still standing guard. Both men turned toward me as I approached, Nicholas’s brows drawing together in question.

“She needs food, a blanket, clean clothes, and toiletries,” I said firmly, crossing my arms. “Now.”

Nicholas tilted his head, his amber eyes narrowing. “What makes you think I’m your errand boy?”

I arched a brow at him. “Because she’s cold, dirty, and hungry, and she’s not going to talk unless she’s taken care of. You want answers about your mother, don’t you?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He glanced at Noah, who still leaned casually against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’ll stay here and keep watch,” Noah said with a shrug. “You’re better at sneaking around anyway.”

Nicholas muttered something under his breath but pushed off the wall and strode toward the exit. His back was rigid, and I could hear him grumbling the whole way down the corridor.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Noah let out a low whistle. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him obey someone so quickly,” he half-whispered.

I blinked, startled, then glanced up at Noah. “He’s just desperate for answers,” I said, brushing it off. “Nothing more. Trust me, he’s usually a massive pain in my ass.”

To my surprise, Noah’s lips quirked into a half-smile at that, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked me up and down. “Who’s more of a pain in the ass, though? You or him?”

Heat crept up my neck, and I felt the urge to tell this man off for speaking to his Luna like that. But, thinking better of it, I flipped my hair over my shoulder and turned on my heel. “I guess that depends on who you ask,” I called over my shoulder as I walked away.

Noah didn’t respond, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking back to see his reaction.

It surprisingly wasn’t very long before Nicholas returned carrying a drugstore bag. He dropped the bag onto a nearby table with a huff, clearly irritated. “Happy now?” he muttered.

“Ecstatic,” I said sweetly, peering into the bag. It wasn’t much, but it was something: a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie, clean socks and underwear, a couple bottles of water, and some toiletries. There was a container of takeout food too—a fast food burger and fries.

Nicholas shrugged when I glanced up at him. “You didn’t say it had to be fancy.”

Fair enough. With that, I turned on my heel and carried everything back to Grace.

When I re-entered the room, Grace’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of all the items in my arms. I set them down on the table in front of her. Then, I walked over to her and held up the key to her handcuffs. “May I?”

She blinked at me for a moment, clearly surprised and a little wary, but then held her wrists out. I unlocked her handcuffs and let them drop to the floor. She let out a small sigh of relief, rubbing her sore wrists, which were red and raw from where the cuffs had been. When was the last time she was uncuffed, I wondered?

“There you go,” I said, stepping back a little. “Take your time.”

She hesitated, her fingers twitching against the table. I could see the conflict in her eyes—distrust warring with gratitude. Slowly, she reached for the blanket first, wrapping it around her thin shoulders. A small sigh escaped her lips as the warmth enveloped her.

“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

I nodded, taking a seat across from her again. “Eat something,” I urged gently. “Then you can get cleaned up. There’s no rush.”

Grace hesitated again before finally reaching for the food Nicholas had brought. It wasn’t anything fancy, but she devoured it like it was a feast.

As she ate, I pulled the toiletries and clean clothes from the bag, laying them out neatly on the table. “You can use these when you’re ready,” I said softly.

Grace glanced up at me, her eyes flickering with something that almost looked like gratitude. She nodded once before returning to her meal.

When she was finished, I helped her to the small adjoining bathroom, where she could wash up and change. I waited outside, giving her privacy. When she finally emerged, she looked like a completely different person.

Her hair, now clean and brushed, shone with a faint auburn tint under the dim light. Her face, free of dirt and grime, revealed soft features and a scattering of freckles across her nose. The oversized sweater and sweatpants Nicholas had brought hung loosely on her thin frame, but they looked warm and comfortable.

“You look great,” I said with a small smile, motioning for her to sit back down.

Grace hesitated but eventually returned to the table, her movements more relaxed than before. I picked up the hairbrush Nicholas had brought, holding it up with a questioning look. “May I?”

Her eyes widened slightly, but after a moment, she nodded. I stepped behind her, gently gathering her hair and brushing through it with careful strokes. The strands were soft and fine, falling like silk between my fingers. I worked quickly, braiding it neatly down her back.

“There,” I said, stepping back. “All done.”

Grace reached up, her fingers brushing against the braid. For the first time, a small, tentative smile tugged at her lips. “Thank you,” she said softly.

I nodded, returning to my seat across from her. Now that she was clean, warm, and fed, I took a moment to study her properly. She was pretty, I realized, with delicate features and large, expressive eyes.

And most notably, she wasn’t much older—or younger—than me. In fact, we could have been sisters.

It was strange to think that someone so close to my age might hold the key to unraveling the mystery of Mia’s death. As far as I knew, Mia had died years ago, when Grace would have barely been a teenager. How could she possibly know anything about what happened?

But there was a calmness in Grace now that hadn’t been there before. She sat up a little straighter, her hands no longer trembling. I could see the hesitation in her eyes, but there was also a flicker of resolve.

She took a deep breath, her gaze meeting mine.

“Okay,” she said quietly, her voice steadier than before. “I think I’m ready to talk now.”