Grayson Mathers Novels & Stories

He searched: *Damien Grayson*, *Roman Grayson*, *Grayson family*. The results were thin, close to nothing. Public records showed Damien as a tenured professor—serious, composed, sleeves always rolled down to hide his tattoos. Roman was a literal ghost: no social media, no public profiles. A few old articles mentioned *Grayson Enterprises* in passing—real estate, private security, vague holdings—but nothing concrete, nothing he could tie directly to Damien’s family. It was like they barely existed. Nothing about the mafia. Nothing about the tattoos or the blood. Just shadows.

Across from him, three men lounged lazily against the leather seats, all of them drunk, all of them high, all of them too interested in a story that should have ended hours ago. The table in front of him was littered with empty glasses. Shot after shot after shot. He had lost count somewhere around seven. Or maybe it was twelve. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered. "Okay." One of the guys leaned in, his voice slurred, his eyes bloodshot. "So tell me what this bitch did again?" Grayson laughed — a hollow, jagged sound. "So I went to her house," he said, pouring another shot. "Not even her house. Her friend's house. 'Cause she's homeless as shit now, thanks to my brother."

I'm always ready for you, Sir. Grayson slipped both phones into his pockets and headed back to his office, his mind spinning with problems he needed to solve: Morgan's threats. Riley Smith's violence towards Joy. Red.

“Keep watching him, Dylan. I want every step he takes traced.” “Understood,” Dylan said firmly. Grayson ended the call and slowly set the phone down, his hands trembling slightly—not from fear. But from fury. And the terrifying realization that someone had been playing him all along. His fingers balled into fists at his sides. Hunter had always known how to stay just close enough—just useful enough. But Grayson Moore had no tolerance for betrayal. He turned from the window at last, eyes burning with a new fire. If war was coming…

Grayson weaved his way through the crowd and finally got to the stage, standing beside me. “Grayson is currently the acting CEO of GA Constructions, he helped his family’s company to rise from the ashes like a phoenix, restoring the once lost prestige of their company. Now, the GA Constructions is standing taller than the years that preceded his term in handling the company.” Mom said introducing Grayson. “And with that being said, Zenaida and me are proud to announce that this strong-will, hard-working man is to be wed to one of our daughters.” Dad continued, the crowd started murmuring after that announcement and I could see the reporters, stopping themselves to ask any questions.

I grunted. "Not sure the time works that way but do know it's confusing as hell," Grayson growled roughly as he dunked his face and grabbed the soap from me to finish his bath. I stood and searched for shaving cream and a razor because all his facial hair was getting removed. "Why didn't you return yourself, you're capable," I inquired. Grayson sighed, "like I said previously I thought I would be banished. However, I did get drunk and was thrown into jail for assaulting the humans that live in my home. I passed out in the jail cell and woke to a horrible hangover. I bit my cellmate because I needed blood. Needless to say, I noped it out of there because they thought I was crazy. I have staye

“Why do you have so much crap to say?” Grayson fished out his phone and changed to a sim card of an unknown number before calling Angeline. In no time at all, Angeline’s voice rang out. “Hello?” Grayson imitated Ash’s voice immediately and cried out wretchedly, “Mrs. Harts, this is Ash. Please save me. Sir Ares wants to disfigure me and blacklist me. Please make a plea of leniency for me. You know I have family members to take care of. My life will be over if I’m disfigured.”

Grayson says, thumb flying across the screen. “Good point. Can you grab some food and bring it here? I just... I can’t handle seeing anyone but you right now. Even Em would be too much.” Grayson stares at me, torn between rage and helplessness. He’s been there for everything: the death of my mom, his parents’ divorce, countless late nights and breakdowns... even coming out to his family. He and Em know me better than anyone. And right now, he’s struggling with what he can do.

“Holt owns this city. He’ll crush you. You're fighting a war you can't win, kid.” I clenched my fists, my eyes were stinging. “He already did,” I whispered. “He killed my baby. Lied to me. Used me. And I’m not letting him get away with it.” Grayson looked at me for a beat. For a moment, I saw something: pity, maybe. But it vanished fast. And then he turned away. “Then you're on your own." He pulled a cigarette out and grabbed a lighter from his desk. "Find someone else. I’m not risking my life for this.”

They heard me say, and loosened their grips on his neck, and grounded their attention on me: their new victim. "But..." I continued. "I'm in a good mood now, so, you have three seconds to scram before the securities arrive. Your choice!" "You may be a hot shot McCleron, but three against one is an uneven number, even for you!" One of the boys spoke out, as he tugged on my neck, and the others agreed with a smirk glued to their faces. I sighed, and palmed my face. I inhaled deeply, and with the exhalation were a much bigger threat lashing from my voice, screaming.