Page 86 of The Tower

I grimace, still not entirely sure who she is to Grimm … or if I even want to know. And, no, the stuff in her drawers doesn’t tell me much.

At loose ends, I do another circle through the apartment. Despite being in the heart of Tribeca and only a block away from the street market, the space is eerily quiet—no traffic noise penetrates the windows, no footsteps from neighbors above or below. It's like being suspended in a bubble, cut off from the world. It's almost like being back in Reed Tower, except here, my jailer is Liam Grimm, not my father.

Is that a notable difference? Here I'm a weapon for Grimm to use against my father. There I was a princess doll. In one, I was the center of a marketing campaign. The other, the key to extracting revenge.

In both scenarios, I'm being used.

So how has my situation changed?

You chose this path.

The voice in my head is sure and strong. And right.

Here with Grimm in Tribeca, I'm free. And that's something I've never been except in Elysium.

But even in Elysium, I'd never truly let go. I held the reins, after all.

With Grimm, I've surrendered to our bargain—and god help me, I love it.

Everything.

Heat floods my cheeks as the memories surface—Grimm's hands on my body, his voice in my ear, the shocking pleasure of yielding to him. The even more shocking realization that I'd enjoyed being claimed that way. Desired that way.

And I can be again. All I have to do is beg.

I hug myself. What is wrong with me?

I've spent my entire life under my father's control. Drugged, manipulated, imprisoned in my own fears. I should be reveling in my newfound independence, not craving Liam's control.

And there it is, the core of what scares me the most—that after everything my father did, what if I’m the girl who’ll never be able to stand alone?

No.

I open my eyes and shake my head. That way lies madness.

So I turn away. From him. From myself. And I shift my focus to what I can still shape.

Elysium.

I settle in front of the computer, then navigate to a half-finished landscape—a mountain sanctuary I'd been designing before everything went to hell. I open the scripting window, fingers already flying as I add detail to the rocky cliffs, smooth the flow of the digital waterfall, and enhance the pool at its base.

Time slips away, the physical discomfort of withdrawal fading beneath the focus of creation. My fingers dance across the keyboard, lines of code appearing on the screen, transforming into living digital art with each execution.

It’s only when I pause to flex my cramping hands that I notice I’ve been working for nearly three hours. And I’ve created something I didn’t intend.

A street market with stalls selling food and goods.

A stone building rising near it.

A balcony looking out over the entirety of Elysium, and my own avatar—Vale— standing there, gazing at all the paths that converge upon this majestic stone tower, now the center of this world.

A text box pops up—WTF? Doing renovations?

I turn Vale until she spots Ruby’s avatar, then reply—Just screwing around.

It’s true—just not the literal truth. I don’t want her to know I zoned out, let my fingers do the walking, and dropped a modified version of Grimm’s Tribeca apartment right in the middle of Elysium. A fantasy world where this apartment is the center. And where Prince Killiam, with all of his Grimm-like attributes, will certainly return by nightfall.

I don’t tell her, because I don’t want to think about what that means.