The penthouse was dark when Grayson let himself back in. The city lights still spilled across the floor-to-ceiling glass, throwing long shadows across polished steel and leather. Kane's suit jacket hung over the back of a chair. His shoes lined neatly by the wall. Beyond, in the vast bed, Kane's silhouette shifted against the sheets.
Grayson's pulse roared in his ears. His clothes smelled of alley grit, of sweat and fear. He stripped off his jacket and kicked his shoes aside before climbing back into bed, hoping, praying Kane would just stay asleep.
But Kane's voice came, low and sharp in the dark. "Where have you been?"
Grayson froze. His throat went dry.
Kane turned his head on the pillow, eyes cutting through the dim like glass. "You think I wouldn't notice?"
Grayson's jaw worked. His chest felt tight, the words boiling up before he could stop them. "I killed him."
The silence after was suffocating. Kane didn't blink. Didn't move. Just stared, like he was weighing the words in his head.
"Jack." Grayson's voice cracked, rough and furious. "I killed him."
Kane's face didn't change. Just that infuriating calm. That unreadable quiet.
Grayson's breath broke into a laugh, sharp and bitter. "That's the game, isn't it? You've been setting me up since day one. The alley. The job. The apartment. All of it. You knew. You fucking knew it was your brother that I killed all along."
Something flickered in Kane's eyes. Not surprise. Not denial. Just a slow, deliberate heat.
Grayson's fists tightened. "Say it. Say that you knew."
Kane sat up, slow and unhurried, the sheet falling to his lap. His chest gleamed in the city light, carved with shadow. His eyes locked on Grayson's.
"And if I did?" Kane asked softly.
Grayson snapped. He lunged, shoving Kane back against the headboard, fists in his shirt, rage tearing out of him in a choked growl. "You've been playing me like a fucking puppet—"
Kane's hand shot up, fisting in Grayson's hair, yanking his head back. Their foreheads nearly cracked together, breath hot, sharp, furious. Grayson swung, knuckles cracking across Kane's mouth. Kane's head snapped to the side, blood smearing his lip, and then Kane laughed. Low. Dark. Dangerous.
"Good," Kane rasped, and slammed his fist into Grayson's ribs.
The fight tumbled into chaos. A tangle of fists, blood, curses. Grayson drove Kane back against the mattress, Kane rolled them over, the sheets twisting around their bodies. Kane's fist caught his jaw.
"You think you can put me down?" Kane growled. His hips bucked up, hard enough to bruise. "You think you're in control?"
Grayson snarled, lips split, blood dripping onto Kane's chest. "Fuck control." He smashed his mouth against Kane's, teeth clashing, the kiss wet with blood and spit. His hips ground down, their cocks straining through fabric, friction sharp, desperate.
Kane groaned into him, hand sliding down between them, shoving at Grayson's jeans. "I'll show you control."
Buttons ripped. Denim shoved down. Kane's palm closed rough and possessive around Grayson's cock, jerking once, hard, like he was daring him to break.
Grayson gasped, his body betraying him, hips thrusting into Kane's hand. He shoved Kane's sweats down, dragged them over his hips, his cock slapping hot and heavy against his stomach.
"Yeah," Kane rasped, his bloody smirk curling. "Take it out. Put it where it belongs."
Grayson's pulse thundered. His chest heaved. He hated him. He wanted him. He couldn't stop.
"You're sick," Grayson spat, grabbing Kane's cock, squeezing hard enough to make Kane grunt.
"And you're harder than I am," Kane shot back, eyes flashing. "So what does that make you?"
Grayson growled, fury and lust blurring, and shoved Kane onto his stomach. Kane didn't resist — he braced his arms against the mattress, muscles flexing, looking back over his shoulder with that goddamn smirk.
"Do it," Kane ordered. "Or you'll never forgive yourself."
Grayson cursed, teeth gritted, and slicked himself fast with spit and precum, hand shaking. He lined up, pressed forward — and Kane pushed back, taking him in one rough thrust.
The sound that ripped out of both of them was pure violence. Kane's groan tore through the dark, low and guttural. Grayson swore, the stretch burning, overwhelming, perfect.
"Fuck—" Grayson's voice broke.
"Louder," Kane snarled, shoving back against him, forcing him deeper. "Make the whole city hear how I own you."
Grayson's hips snapped forward, punishing, each thrust driving harder, faster, until the bed frame shook. His nails dug into Kane's hips, leaving crescent moons in his skin. Sweat and blood smeared together, dripping onto the sheets.
"You wanted a fight?" Kane growled through clenched teeth. "This is the only way you'll ever beat me."
Grayson slammed into him, again, again, his body on fire, his throat raw with groans he couldn't swallow. His reflection caught in the glass wall — flushed, wild, broken — Kane beneath him, perfect even ruined, taking every thrust like he was carved for it.
Kane shoved up on one arm, reached back, his hand clamping around the back of Grayson's neck. He dragged him down until their mouths crashed again, teeth tearing lips, blood smeared between them.
"Harder," Kane ordered against his mouth. "Don't you fucking stop."
Grayson obeyed, hips cock driving into him merciless, sweat dripping off his temples. His vision blurred with heat and rage and need.
Kane reached down, stroking himself rough, fast, in time with Grayson's thrusts. His groans filled the room, dark and filthy. "That's it. Fuck me like you hate me."
"I do," Grayson rasped, his voice breaking.
"Liar," Kane snapped, his body tightening around him, taking him deeper, pulling him closer to the edge. "You'd kill for me. You'd die for me. And now you'll come for me."
The words shattered him. Grayson slammed in one last time, groaning brokenly as he spilled deep inside Kane, his whole body convulsing, nails tearing skin, sweat and blood dripping onto Kane's back.
Kane came seconds later, fist tight on his cock, groaning low and vicious as he spilled across the sheets, his body trembling under Grayson's weight.
The sheets were a mess of blood, sweat, and come. Grayson was still catching his breath when the pounding started. A hard, authoritative bang-bang-bang at the door.
"Open up!"
Grayson didn't flinch. He sat up on the edge of the bed, dragging his jeans on with steady hands. His pulse was wild, but not from surprise. He'd been waiting for this.
Kane rolled onto his back, chest slick with sweat, bruises blooming across his ribs where Grayson's fists had landed.
The door crashed open. Heavy boots. Barked orders.
"Hands where we can see them! On the ground!"
Grayson tugged his shirt over his head, movements deliberate, almost calm. He stood back from the bed, letting the cops surge in, letting them focus on Kane.
One officer pressed him to the sheets, wrenching his arms behind his back, snapping the cuffs tight. Kane didn't resist. Didn't even blink. He just smiled wider, blood streaking his teeth.
Grayson lingered by the glass wall, slipping his jacket on.
A cop glanced at him, suspicion in his eyes. "You're not the one we're here for. You're free to go."
Grayson gave a tight nod. "Yeah." His voice came out steady, clipped, as if this were routine.
He turned to the door. But just before he stepped out, he looked back.
Kane was watching him through the chaos, shoulders pinned, wrists bound, a knee in his spine. And still, impossibly, he smirked. "Go on, sweetheart," he drawled, loud enough for only Grayson to hear. "Run while you still can."
Grayson's mouth curved back at him — a flicker, sharp and dangerous. Then he left, walking out past the uniforms and into the night air, pulse hammering with something he couldn't name.
Because this wasn't over. Not by a long shot.