Alyssa

Shit.

I told Gray King would figure it out.

It hasn't even been twenty-four hours.

I don't know what my brother was thinking. He knows King tortures people for a living. He can smell a lie before it even leaves someone's mouth. More than that—he reads me like a book.

And right now, that book is wide-fucking-open.

As much as I appreciate that Gray told me they caught Isaac, he should've waited. He should've picked a better time. A better ...