It was 6:48, right after dinner, when I got the phone call.

"Hello?" I asked, not recognizing the number.

"Get out of your apartment right now!" the voice said. It had been doctored, the voice was distorted and scrambled. The line went dead.

"Kate!" I screamed, causing her to burst out of her room in a blind panic.

"What's going on?" she asked, sensing my panic.

"Grab your bag, we need to get out of here now!"

Her eyes grew wide as she spotted my gun in my hand and my phone in the other. She was out the door before I could even take another step. Racing down the two flights of stairs- thankfully our apartment was a two story walk-up and a small building. We burst out onto the sidewalk just as the windows shattered and a large explosion nearly knocked us off our feet. My ears were ringing and I couldn't hear anything. The dust and smoke was thick around us, and I was screaming for Kate, stumbling around, trying to get to her. She was further out onto the street than I was.

I was crying and shaking, collapsed on the hard sidewalk. My ears were still ringing as two strong arms swept my legs out from under me.

"It's okay, you're safe now," I could barely make out a voice through the throbbing in my skull. As my ears and eyes tried to adjust to my surroundings, I realized I was screaming and crying hysterically. The strong hands stroked my back, whispering words, trying to calm me down. I didn't want to look at the damage- how destroyed our homes was. I didn't want to see how distraught Kate would be. I buried my head in the unfamiliar chest and breathed in the comforting smell that was beginning to replace the smell of smoke and dust. "We have to get out of here, Anastasia."

I couldn't speak as I was carried away from the wreckage of the small building. People were yelling and I heard sirens in the distance, breaking through the harsh ringing in my ears. I was terrified.

I didn't stop my hysterical sobbing until the car stopped and I was carried out of the car. I didn't recognize the underground garage, or the number of black Audis that were parked. "Where am I?"

My voice sounded distant, distorted almost to my ears. "You're safe."

I turned my head to see who was carrying me, and I would have collapsed if I wasn't secure in Christian Grey's arms. I kept looking around, taking in my surroundings as he carried me into a private elevator and punched in a code. I spotted Taylor standing behind Christian, and he looked worse for wear, barely holding onto his stoic facade. He handed me a grey handkerchief and I wiped my eyes and blew my nose, noticing the initials that were embroidered on the soft linen. CTG.

"Mr. Grey!" a feminine voice called out. I spotted a woman with greying hair and kind brown eyes coming out of the kitchen. Her eyes crinkled with concern when she saw me in Christian's arms. "What happened?"

"Mrs. Jones, there was an explosion," Christian said. He set me down on one of the couches facing the fire place. "This is the safest place for Anastasia at the moment. Can you call my mother and ask her to come over here?"

"Of course Mr. Grey," Mrs. Jones said, hurrying out of the room. Christian sat on the coffee table facing me.

"Anastasia, can you hear me?"

I nodded, still not trusting my voice.

"I'm going to call a very good friend of mine to come and talk to you. Katherine is safe. My brother was right behind me to make sure she gets home to her parents," he explained. "I need to go and make some calls, but please feel free to sleep, get water, use the restroom- whatever you need."

He stood, taking off his suit jacket and tie, unbuttoning and rolling up his sleeves. His jaw was clenched tightly as he talked with Taylor in the background. Mrs. Jones placed a glass of water in front of me on the coffee table, gently stroking my head in a motherly gesture. "Miss Steele, please drink this. It will make you feel better."

I dragged myself into a sitting position, and greedily drank the cool water. I didn't know what to say or what to do. My ears were still ringing slightly and the buzzing in my brain was still at the forefront of my attention. I began tensing and relaxing my muscles and inspecting myself for injuries. There was nothing major, but I knew I would have a few bruises.

"Oh Ana, darling!" Grace exclaimed as she rushed to my side. Her arms wrapped around me gently, and it was such a kind, pure gesture, it took everything in me not to cry. "I need to examine you Ana."

I nodded and she helped me stand shakily. She guided me through the expansive living room of what I could only guess was Christian's penthouse and into a bedroom. I let her run her tests, flashing a light in my eyes, taking my blood pressure, checking my stab wound, and giving me ibuprofen for the headache. "Why don't you take a shower before Dr. Flynn arrives."

"Dr. Flynn?" I asked, my voice still hoarse.

"He's a close family friend and will help you come to terms with what's just happened," she explained gently. "Christian speaks to him very often and I think he will help."

I nodded, accepting my fate. Once again, the Grey family was being exceptionally helpful and kind, and I didn't want to jeopardize that. Grace pointed me to the bathroom and I wearily peeled off my torn, dusty clothes and under the hot spray of the shower. I washed my hair with the shampoo that smelled like Christian and groaned when I couldn't find any conditioner. My hair was tangled and I really wanted to comb through it. Sighing, I climbed out the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. I headed back into the main room to pick up my clothes.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" Christian exclaimed, swallowing thickly, a slight pink tinge coloring his cheeks. Neither of us moved for a moment and he shifted uncomfortably, his hands dropping in front of his crotch. Was he getting hard?

"I thought my mother showed you to the guest room."

"I'm sorry," I said automatically, realizing I was intruding in his personal space.

"No, uh, my mistake," he said, leaving the room just as quickly as he entered. He turned back around in the doorway, his eyes dark. "There are fresh clothes in the bag."

Before I could respond, he was gone and the bedroom door was shut once again. I picked up the silver Neiman Marcus bag and bit my lip, trying to convince myself to accept the ridiculously expensive clothes. I fought back tears as I realized nearly every material object I owned was destroyed. I changed back in the white bathroom, taking in my surroundings for the first time. The bathroom was the size of my room back at home- completely white and clinical. It was luxurious, but lacking in any personality. I didn't see anything personal anywhere, not even a toothbrush to prove this bathroom was lived in.

I pulled my hair into a messy bun and headed into the great room. The walls of the apartment were a rich grey, an eclectic mix of art and photographs adorning the walls. But there was nothing personal anywhere. I frowned slightly, realizing that this might not be Christian's main residence.

"Miss Steele?" I heard a new voice call my name. A tall man, wearing trendy, frameless glasses stood. "I'm Dr. John Flynn."

I didn't say anything, but appraised the man in front of me. He was English, but his accent wasn't as strong as it used to be. He'd definitely been in the United States for some time. I briefly wondered if he was allowed to practice on foreign soil as a doctor, or if that was only pertinent to medical doctors. I knew he was a psychologist and I didn't want to talk to him.

"How is your head? I understand you experienced quite a severe explosion," he said, gesturing for me to sit. His eyes appraised me and alarm bells started ringing in my head. I didn't trust him.

"I'm fine," I said softly, meeting his gaze.

"I understand you shared the apartment with your roommate, Katherine Kavanaugh," he said, flipping through a manilla folder which I assumed was his file. I snatched it out of his hands.

"I don't mean to be rude, but you do not have my consent to go through my file," I said.

He chuckled. "Miss Steele, your employer hired me, which means that technically, I have the right to."

"Well, I regret to inform you that I resigned from the company two minutes ago," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

He stood up and sighed. "How long do you think you can keep hiding from Christian?"

I paled. "I wouldn't be in plain sight if I was hiding."

He grinned. "Funnily enough, hiding in plain sight is the safest option, just look at Christian. I'll speak to you soon Anastasia."

I didn't say anything as he strolled out of the apartment. Throwing my folder down coffee table in frustration, I picked up my phone. My gun wasn't on the coffee table where I left it, and that made me nervous.

"Kate! Oh my goodness are you alright?" I asked, breathing a sigh of relief as I heard my best friend's, albeit shaky, voice.

"I'm not okay, Ana. Where are you?" she asked, sounding distraught.

"I'm with my boss," I said, biting my lip.

"What the fuck? Ana, my parents are taking me to Barbados tomorrow. They think that something in your life is putting me in danger, and I have to agree with them," she said. I always appreciated her bluntness, but this time it was a little too much.

"Kate," I whispered, my eyes filling with tears. "The shooting was a freak accident."

"It doesn't seem like it. You know the rumors about the Grey family. Sure they're famous and powerful, but you can't ignore that everyone around them ends up hurt of dead. I mean, you started working for them," she said, sniffing. "I know it wasn't your fault and that you saved my life, but we shouldn't have been in a position for that to be necessary. I think some time apart will be good for both of us."

She hung up before I could say anything else. She was right and it cut me to the bone. Ever since I started working for the FBI, everyone who I thought was a friend was slowly being isolated from me. I called Barney.

"Anastasia, thank goodness you're okay," he said, sighing. "Christian is already looking into what happened."

"I, um, got a phone call as a warning. Can you let Welch know?" I asked.

"Of course. Is there anything else I can do for you?" he asked kindly.

"Why are you trusting me? Why are you helping me?" I asked biting my lip.

He sighed heavily. "I know your father was operating under the cover name of Stephen Morton. And I know that the FBI had some suspicions when it came to his loyalty to them. He was very much on our side, Anastasia. Now, the FBI was never able to fully prove that he had been flipped, but he was. I think that's why Luke is so suspicious of you. As for helping you, I don't like more blood on my hands than necessary. And I think that you are very much like your father."

"Should I tell anyone else?" I whispered.

"No. Not yet. Grace and Carrick, no matter how much they trust you now would kill you without any hesitation. However, when the time comes, Christian and I will be able to protect you. Christian was the one who flipped your father. He hasn't put the pieces together that Stephen Morton is your father and I think it's prudent to keep it that way," Barney explained. "When you recover from all of this, we'll talk about this more."

"One last thing," I said. "Dr. John Flynn."

"Shit, he tried talking to you, didn't he?" Barney said.

"Yeah, he asked me how long I could keep 'hiding'," I explained. "I don't like him."

"Listen, never speak to him alone again. He's hired by Grace and she had him speak to you because she's suspicious. Give her no reason to be suspicious of you, Anastasia. I mean it. Think of something else you could be hiding if she confronts you. Christian talks to Flynn regularly because Grace feels the need to keep tabs on her son. She's worried she won't be able to control him for much longer, and she's right. Be careful, Anastasia. You'll be safe with Christian," Barney said. "I'll call you in a few days and we can sit down and hash this all out. And, if for whatever reason, Christian asks about your true job, do not lie to him."

Barney hung up, leaving me holding the phone to my ear in shock. It vibrated with a text from Barney.

Welch pulled the information. Destroy this phone and make sure the SIM card is beyond repair.

I threw my phone against the wall and started to cry.

I was shaken awake lightly, by a concerned looking Mrs. Jones who was holding a steaming bowl. "You fell asleep. I have some chicken noodle soup, if you would like."

"Yes, please," I said sitting up slowly. "Thank you."

"Mr. Grey is eating in the dining room, if you would like to join him," she said, heading through the kitchen to the slightly more secluded dining area of the great room. I followed her.

Christian glanced up from his tablet, his grey eyes sweeping over my face. His expression softened. "Anastasia, how are you feeling?"

I shrugged and sat down, digging into the delicious soup. "I'm okay. Physically, I mean."

"I can't even begin to understand what you must be feeling, but if you need anything, just ask," he said gently.

"Why are you doing this?" I asked. "And save the bullshit about me being an employee or something."

He cocked his head slightly as he appraised me. "Truthfully, you intrigue me. I also don't want to feel the same way I did when you were hurt."

I didn't know how to respond so I just nodded and began spooning the soup into my mouth at a faster rate.

"I do have a question though," he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a light blue post-it pad. He slid it across the table to me. There was a layer of pencil over the first post-it and in relief I could make out the words Elko and shipping route. I looked back up at him. He didn't look angry and his eyes looked curious. "Why did I find this in your office?"

"I was going to do some research," I said. "Your route seemed to bypass California as much as possible."

"You're very observant. What else do you know?" he questioned, guarding his expression. He seemed more eager to discover what I had actually figured out from seeing the route.

"I'm assuming that you're avoiding the law for some reason. That leads me to believe it's contraband. Drug penalties are much stricter in Nevada, and I don't think you would risk that," I said, watching his eyes narrow.

"What do you think I'm transporting?" he asked, his tone clipped.

"You would have told me if it was legitimate business. Look, I've heard the rumors about your family and I'm not dumb. I think your moving guns. I just can't figure out what direction," I said. My heart was beating rapidly, and my mouth was getting dry as Christian watched me.

"Are you going to call the authorities?" he asked.

I shook my head. "I don't trust the police."

"Why not?" he asked, his eyes flashing.

"I just don't," I said, failing to come up with a good excuse.

"I'm moving the guns to Mexico," Christian said.

"Excuse me?" I said, surprised.

He sighed and placed the tablet between us. "I'm stealing the guns from Elliot's warehouse and moving them to Mexico. I want to make it look like the cartel stole them."

"When are you doing this?" I asked, trying to process the information as fast as possible. I had a hunch, but I didn't expect to be right.

"Tonight, if all goes according to plan. Anastasia, despite the warnings from my mother, I think I can trust you. If you prove to be as valuable as I think you are, you'll live. But you'll be working for me," he said, sipping wine from his glass. "Don't make me kill you."

"Why do you trust me?" I asked.

"Barney and Gwen trust you. and considering you're dealing with very sensitive issues at work, you need to understand all sides of business. Gwen assured me you were ready to learn about the rest. She was correct?" he asked.

"Yes. I'm just surprised you're telling me so soon," I explained.

"The person or people who bombed your apartment are targeting you to get to me. And they aren't from the legitimate side of things. You have the right to know," he explained. "And if I didn't tell you, your curiosity might have put you in more danger."

I nodded, still too stunned to say anything.

"Let me give you a tour of the place," he said, standing. I stood up and walked next to him, surprised when he took my hand and began leading me around the great room, pointing out piece of art that were sentimental to him. He showed me a library with a connecting room that housed a grand piano and the door to his office.

I asked a few polite questions to keep the conversation going, but I didn't want to pry. He seemed very private, for good measure, but I didn't want to overstep.

"And, you've already seen my bedroom," he whispered in my ear, his hot breath floating down my neck. I shivered, biting my lip as he pulled open the door. He was standing so close to me, I could feel his body heat. He was facing me suddenly, his eyes dark and intense.

"Don't bite your lip," he said, pulling it from my teeth with his perfect manicured hand. My cheeks were flushed as he continued to gaze at me hungrily.

He pressed closer and I could feel every hard muscle in his body pressed against my soft frame, including the hard evidence of his arousal. His lips grazed my ear again, bathing me in his scent. "Not until you ask me, Anastasia."

With that enigmatic statement he was gone, leaving me flushed and battling with my own heart beat to try and calm myself down.

Phew! A lot of information in this chapter...

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CPOV will be the next chapter!