Chapter 24
IVY
For the last twenty minutes, we haven’t uttered a word. No music, no radio, just the growling engine and bucketloads of tension. So much for trying to avoid him.
Freddie grips the wheel tightly, his prominent veins stretching over his tanned knuckles. What is he thinking? I guess I’ll never know because I refuse to break the silence. He made his bed and must lie in it.
“We need to talk,” Freddie says eventually.
“I have nothing to say,” I reply petulantly, turning my head away from him. “Are we nearly there?”
He swerves onto a narrow street. Although I’ve been to the Killers Club house before, I’m unfamiliar with its location or how to get there. We’ve taken a roundabout route, and I don’t recognise our surroundings at all.
We’re jostled from side to side as the wheels roll over the roughly paved surface that’s riddled with deadly potholes. No other cars or people are around, and the road slopes downwards. My stomach sinks as we progress.
“Maybe you should make a U-turn?” I suggest, glancing out of the rearview mirror. “You must have gone the wrong way.”
This is not a public road. Fading graffiti covers the surrounding brick walls, and it’s eerily quiet. It’s the type of street where teenagers with nowhere to go come to party at night. Bad things happen in these places, and a sinking feeling in my gut tells me our reason for being here isn’t good.
Freddie’s eyes stay fixed ahead. “This is the right way.”
We veer to the right, entering an even narrower road. Thankfully, no other cars are parked, allowing just enough room for us to pass.
“Turn around,” I insist.
The safe house is on a tree-lined street, not in some backwater crack den.
Freddie ignores me and hums to himself like a man possessed. Maybe he’s finally lost his mind. We’re going slow—around ten miles per hour. I reach for the door handle, ready to jump out and find my own means of transport, but he reacts quickly and locks all the doors.
I try lowering the window but only crack it open by an inch before he stops me. The unmistakable smell of rancid water and fish fills my nostrils. We must be close to the river.
He takes a few more turns, passing dilapidated buildings that show no sign of life. Judging by the smell, I assume they used to be markets or places used to store seafood, likely illegally.
Freddie doesn’t stop until we come to a dead end.
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask. “Where are we?”
His expression is oddly serene. I haven’t seen him this calm since before he knew my true identity.
“Look under your seat,” he says.
My heart pounds as I cautiously bend to feel around while maintaining eye contact with him. I know better than to look away from a psycho when they’re having an episode.
“There’s nothing here,” I huff in frustration, grappling with my fingers until they brush against a plastic shopping bag. I pull it onto my lap and frown, then open it. “A gun?”
I stare at it in disbelief, picking it up to turn the weapon over in my hands.
“If we walk a few feet, there’s an entry point to the Thames. All you have to do is pull the trigger,” Freddie says. “I won’t fight. My body will get washed away. No one has to know.”
He has to be joking, right? I swallow the lump in my throat and check to see if the gun’s loaded. One bullet.
“I made sure the police won’t be able to track the gun,” he continues. “I’ll never forgive myself for betraying you.”
“You want…” My words trail off. “You want me to kill you?”
“Taking my life is a fair punishment,” he says. “You made it clear you’d prefer never to see me again. This is what’s best for everyone. I won’t resist.”
My hands shake. “You really mean it?”
He nods solemnly.
Did I want to kill him? Sure, I thought I did. After all, he was willing to make a trade for my life. He didn’t deserve my sympathy. I’d killed others for less.
“What about the Dukes?” I ask.
“Seb is the boss now.” He shrugs. “They’ll be fine.”
“Okay, out of the car.” I point the gun at him. If this is a test, I want to see how far he’s willing to go. “Show me the spot.”
Freddie unlocks the doors, and we step out.
“Walk,” I command.
“You don’t need to point it at me,” he replies. He’s given up. “I’m going willingly.”
I press the gun into his back and jab him to show that I don’t give a shit about his opinion as he leads me into a grimy tunnel. Even in the daylight, it’s dark, and ominous orange lights flicker above us as we set off on Freddie’s death march.
“What should I tell the others?” I question.
He must have answers, considering he’s planned this out. I didn’t see him a lot while we stayed at the hotel, but I never pegged him as being suicidal.
“Tell them whatever you want,” he says. “I’m sure you can come up with something convincing. Maybe the Killers Club tracked us down, and a few of Alaric’s agents killed me? You choose.”
We emerge from the tunnel and reach a clearing by the water’s edge. My nose wrinkles at the terrible smell, and I try not to inhale deeply. Objects float on the brown, murky river surface: various kitchen appliances, rope, food packets, and too many bottles to count. This is a rubbish heap, not a tranquil resting place. This is the spot where Freddie’s chosen to die.
“Before you kill me…” He turns to face me. His eyes glitter. The eyes of the man I used to fantasise about. A man I once believed was the potential love of my life. A man who I imagined having a future with during my time with the club. “I have something to say.”
“Fine,” I say, keeping the gun pointed at his chest. “Talk.”
“I lied to you and betrayed your trust. For that, I’m sorry. I need you to know I wasn’t only lying to you but to myself. I spent years dreaming about you after we met. When I thought you were dead, I believed I lost something special.”
“Yeah, because getting to know the real me was such a disappointment,” I snap.
“No.” He shakes his head. “Finding out you were still alive was—and still is—the best thing to happen to me. You’re not the same person you were five years ago, but my feelings for you haven’t changed. It’s taken losing you to fully realise that.”
“How convenient,” I mutter sarcastically.
“I can’t turn back time, but I have to be honest with you now,” he says. “I love you, Ivy. You’re the only woman who has ever had my heart. You stole it the moment I laid eyes on you. Since we reunited, I’ve been fighting it, but not because I’m ashamed or don’t want you the way you are. I’ve been fighting against the truth. You showed me I wasn’t a good man, and I’ve struggled to accept that. Until now.”
His words take me by surprise. While he talks, my brain keeps returning to how he said he loved me and repeats it over and over.
“I understand it’s too late for us now,” he says in resignation. “Too much has happened. I’ve made mistakes. Mistakes I can’t undo. But before you kill me, you have to understand how sorry I am and that I’m willing to give my life because, without you, I have nothing left to live for.”
“On your knees,” I order, my voice shaking. “Face the river.”
I can’t look at him anymore. I can’t bear to see the pain in his eyes. He’s torn apart and broken. A shadow of his former self.
He smiles for the last time, turns, and lowers himself to his knees. He inclines his head when in position, baring the sensitive spot on the back of his neck. I half-expect him to jump up and proclaim this is a joke or try to wrestle the gun from me. Yet, he doesn’t.
“I’ll make it quick,” I promise, taking a few steps away.
Freddie stays motionless. Is this really how he wants it to end? Like this?
Memories rush through my mind like snapshots. I recall our first meeting. The handsome stranger in a suit whose kiss left a permanent imprint on my lips. Next, we’re drawn together again like magnets. I remember his protective hand clutching mine, pulling me towards a car where Seb was waiting. Then, the cottage phases into my vision. A night spent in front of the fireplace when he took the time to worship and appreciate every inch of my body. How we moaned each other’s names. How he made me feel like I was the only person who mattered.
The picture shifts and distorts, morphing into something ugly…
We’re in the castle. Freddie’s glacial gaze raked over me as he chained me to a radiator. How his callous indifference stung when we returned to London. How he fucked me with such anger in the crypt, then pretended I didn’t exist. How my chest felt like it was being ripped open when I learned how he planned to hand me back to the club willingly, signing my death sentence.
Who is the real Frederick James?
I level the gun and squeeze the trigger. Bang! Nearby seagulls caw, and my shoulders jolt from the recoil. While birds’ wings flap, silence descends. A silence unlike any other, a pregnant pause where the world is waiting as if it knows the destruction one tiny piece of metal can do.
“Ivy…” Freddie croaks. His hand cups his ear to feel the blood dripping down the side of his head from where the bullet clipped him. There’ll be no stitches required. “There was only one bullet.”
“I know,” I say calmly. “Now, get up.”
His eyes widen as realisation sets in. I’m an excellent shot. If I wanted him dead, he’d be floating amongst the fridges and microwaves by now.
His forehead crinkles in confusion. “I thought this is what you wanted.”
So did I, but seeing how he was ready to end his life to make amends made me realise something else.
“We’ve all made mistakes.” Apologising usually isn’t part of my vocabulary. But he’s not the only one who has lied. “Let’s call it even.”
“But after what I did, I thought you’d…”
“Jump at the chance to kill you?” I cock my head to the side. “I can’t say your offer wasn’t tempting.”
I throw the gun into the water. We both watch the surface ripple. Small circles turn into bigger ones, just like our actions. The gun sinks straight to the river bed, taking its secrets and what happened here along with it.
“I meant what I said, Ivy.”
I swallow hard. All the anger and fury I felt towards him ebbs away.
“I know you did,” I reply.
Words are empty, but Freddie has proved himself through his actions. He’s willing to do whatever it takes to make things right.
I never hesitated when I worked for the club. I killed without blinking, enjoying extinguishing lives. But I’m not the same person anymore. I’ve changed. Daisy is alive, and killing isn’t my means of survival anymore.
“Why didn’t you do it?” he asks.
I don’t answer. Maybe because I’m not ready to face the answer myself.
“Let’s get back to the car,” I say, changing the subject and brushing away any lingering thoughts. We have a mission to complete. I can untangle my feelings if we live long enough to see another day. “Seb will be wondering where we are.”
Freddie’s arm brushes against mine as we walk back. His touch sends an electric jolt of longing over my skin.
While I’m not ready to say it, Freddie isn’t the only one with feelings he’s tried to deny. Our connection has been tested, but no matter what happens, I can’t ignore the draw I feel towards the man who tried to ruin my life and now wants to help put it back together…