Chapter 3 His Prey

Cathryn lowered her head, feeling hunted, cornered by the intensity of Grayson's gaze that seemed to pin her in place.

Her back pressed tightly against the door as she tried in vain to put distance between herself and Grayson.

But in the confined space, no amount of effort could escape the suffocating aura that surrounded him.

The faint scent of cedar, mingled with a trace of alcohol, lingered in the air, wrapping around her like an unseen snare. It clung to her senses, pulling her unwillingly back to that summer afternoon three years ago-cicadas droning their relentless tune, the air thick with tension. She remembered the drunken Grayson who had stormed into her room, wild and unrestrained.

The memory sent a shiver through her, her heart racing with unease.

Desperate to break free from the suffocating atmosphere, she stepped forward, widening the small gap between them. But as she moved, her arm brushed lightly against his.

The faint contact was electric, a heat spreading through her skin that left a lingering trace of him.

Cathryn's voice was barely above a whisper. "It's too far from school. I live on campus."

Grayson's eyes narrowed, their sharpness cutting through her feeble excuse.

Her soft, timid tone stirred something primal within him, an unwelcome desire that simmered beneath his controlled exterior.

And yet, over these three years, she had learned to lie.

For now, he decided to let it go. Her fibs were still within his tolerance.

"Did you block my number?" he asked, his tone laced with subtle accusation.

Cathryn dropped her gaze, her voice quiet but steady. "I got a new number. My old phone broke, and I lost all my contacts."

That much was true; the only number from the Wheeler family she'd kept was Jenna's.

"Give me your phone," Grayson ordered, his voice leaving no room for argument.

Hesitation flickered across her face, but she handed her phone over reluctantly, her fingers trembling slightly as they brushed his.

It was an older model, its screen slightly scratched and faded, showing its age.

Grayson's frown deepened as he turned it over in his hands, then silently sent a friend request.

He handed the phone back to her, his voice neutral. "Earlier-"

"I understand," Cathryn interrupted, her tone calm but distant. "They're your friends, just joking around. It's no big deal."

She had no intention of staying with the Wheeler family for long and wasn't particularly bothered by others' opinions of her.

Taking the phone from him, she noticed the warmth lingering from his touch. Without thinking, she wiped the screen briskly on her skirt, as if erasing a stain.

The simple, dismissive gesture made Grayson's gaze darken, a flicker of anger flashing in his already frosty eyes.

His voice was icy. "Are you going out?"

"Yes," she replied softly, clutching the phone tightly. "I have classes tonight. I need to get back to school."

Grayson's eyes narrowed slightly. "I'm heading out as well. I'll give you a ride."

Cathryn's mind raced, panic setting in as she scrambled for an excuse. Before she could respond, Rylan entered the room hastily.

"Sir, Ms. Andrews isn't feeling well and asked if you could take her home," Rylan reported, his tone carefully neutral.

A shadow of irritation crossed Grayson's features as he frowned. "She seemed fine earlier. What happened?"

Rylan hesitated before replying, "Someone congratulated her on your upcoming engagement, and she might have been overjoyed and had a few too many drinks."

Grayson's expression tightened, his gaze shifting back to Cathryn. For a brief moment, his eyes lingered on her pale face. "I'll send a car to take you back," he said curtly.

Cathryn's fingers nervously twisted the hem of her clothes as she looked down. "No need," she replied softly. "I can manage on my own."

Grayson didn't respond, his sharp eyes fixed on her for another second before he turned and left without a word.

It wasn't until his figure disappeared from sight that Cathryn let out a shaky breath, finally regaining her composure.

He was about to be engaged to his childhood friend, Maia Andrews?

It all made sense now-why he had returned two years ahead of schedule.

Cathryn exhaled a sigh of relief as she grabbed her belongings and left.

By eleven that night, the city was alive with energy, its streets bustling with people.

At the vibrant night market, Cathryn's hand-drawn portrait stall had attracted a steady stream of customers, her delicate sketches earning her plenty of admiration. A few patrons even saved her number, placing orders for custom portraits. Business was good, and Cathryn allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction.

Unbeknownst to her, under the shadow of a nearby tree, a sleek black stretch limousine sat parked.

Luxury cars like this were not uncommon in this city, and even a specially modified bulletproof vehicle went unnoticed amidst the crowd.

But inside the car, concealed by the shadows, a man observed her intently.

Grayson's sharp, predatory eyes stayed fixed on Cathryn's stall, his gaze cold and unrelenting, like a hawk zeroing in on its prey. The weight of his stare carried a dangerous intensity.

Beside him, Rylan cast a wary glance in his direction, an involuntary shiver running down his spine.

He knew Grayson too well. In the decade he had worked for the Wheeler family, he had seen Grayson's relentless determination firsthand. Grayson was not a man who allowed morality to dictate his actions, nor did he ever fail to acquire what he wanted.

In families like the Wheelers, having love affairs was far from unusual, barely raising an eyebrow among their elite circles.

Still, Cathryn being the niece of Grayson's sister-in-law made the situation murkier-ethically questionable, to say the least.

After a long silence, Grayson finally withdrew his gaze, his tone unreadable.

"Rylan, why would she want to move out of the Wheeler Mansion to live in a place like that?"

Rylan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "She is still young. Perhaps she doesn't know any better."

Grayson's fingers tapped idly against his phone, his eyes lingering on the screen. Cathryn still hadn't accepted his friend request.

His gaze flickered upward slightly, his tone turning sharper. "Do you know of any ways to make someone grow up quickly?"

Rylan stiffened at the question, his voice cautious as he answered, "Not really... Unless they experience something truly harrowing. Those kinds of trials tend to accelerate maturity."

As the conversation unfolded, Cathryn began packing up her belongings. In just a few minutes, she had neatly tucked everything into a small box before approaching a bike.

She pedaled off at a steady pace, her form illuminated by the soft glow of streetlights, oblivious to the black limousine trailing her at a leisurely distance.

Before long, Cathryn's bike turned into an old, dimly lit residential area.

The limousine pulled to a stop at the entrance.

Cathryn, carrying her box of belongings, had just stepped through the gates when the door of a nearby Ferrari swung open with force. A strikingly handsome young man stormed out, his expression dark and furious, blocking her path.

Grayson, halfway out of his car, froze, his sharp gaze narrowing as he recognized the intruder.

It was Jerald, his nephew.

The cramped residential area had narrow alleys and small gates, leaving no barrier to sound. Grayson rolled down his window slightly, the sharp night air carrying the heated exchange between Cathryn and Jerald clearly to his ears.

"Cathryn, are you an idiot?" Jerald barked, his voice sharp with anger. "You'd rather live in this dump than in the villa I arranged for you?"

Jerald's grip on her wrist tightened painfully, making her wince as she struggled to free herself. "Let go. You're hurting me," she said, her voice strained but steady.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto her, their intensity laced with something unhinged.

Under the glow of the streetlamp, his chiseled features were twisted by his fierce expression, distorting his otherwise perfect face.

Sensing the danger in his demeanor, Cathryn instinctively stepped back, trying to put some distance between them.

But her retreat only seemed to ignite Jerald's fury further. In an instant, he grabbed her again, shoving her roughly against a tree. His voice was low and filled with venom as he gritted through clenched teeth. "You haven't been back to the Wheeler Mansion in three months, and you blocked me. Are you avoiding me on purpose?"

Cathryn's frown deepened, her calm mask cracking just slightly as a flicker of disdain crossed her gaze.

Still, she kept her tone measured, unwilling to escalate the situation. "Let go first. How can you treat me like this? I'm your family in a way. It wouldn't look good if someone saw."

Jerald sneered, his laugh bitter and mocking. "Family? Funny," he spat, his words dripping with contempt. "You're not. So stop pretending. You know how I feel about you, right? Who do you think you're fooling?"

Cathryn lowered her gaze, hiding the disdain in her eyes as she replied softly, "I don't understand what you're talking about."

Jerald's eyes roved over her delicate features, his gaze lingering too long, too intently.

He had always despised her, lumping her in with her aunt Jenna, whom he viewed as conniving and desperate to climb the social ladder. It was why he had often joined forces with Dina to torment Cathryn.

But somewhere along the way, something shifted. Without realizing it, her image had begun to haunt him, her presence seeping into his thoughts until it consumed him.

Tonight, the alcohol coursing through his veins only magnified those feelings. To him, she was unbearably beautiful-too much so. It felt deliberate, as if she existed solely to tempt him.

Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her chin roughly, his intentions clear as he leaned in to claim a kiss.