Chapter 23
Myles
The hallway’s suspiciously quiet. No shuffling behind the bars, no soft inhale when she senses me coming. No fucking lock on the cell door.
My stomach knots at the sight of the cell through the window of the holding room door. It’s wide open!
Picking up my pace, my boots echo on the concrete as I storm toward the door and stop cold.
She's not there.
She's not in the fucking cell!
Flinging the door open, I burst inside and hear her gasp from the other side of the room.
She’s perched on one of the desks.
With Phoenix. Between her fucking legs. His fingers inside her!
Her head snaps toward me, eyes wide, panicked. “Myles!” she squeals.
The breath leaves my lungs like I’ve just been punched in the gut.
I don't remember crossing the room but I’m roaring in Phoenix’s face. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”
Ivy flinches but Phoenix just slowly turns his head. Unbothered. As if I'm an inconvenient interruption. As if I didn't just catch him violating everything I've been keeping safe.
He slides his hand out of her, slowly lifting his fingers to his mouth. Holding eye contact with me, he licks them in a direct insult.
I saw that shit plenty when I was a kid in foster care. Some kid wearing my hoodie, smirking because he knew I couldn’t prove he’d stolen it.
I see red. “You fucking son of a bitch!”
Grabbing his shirt, I shove him hard. He stumbles back, but barely. He's calm, too calm, and it just fuels the fire burning through me.
“She's mine,” I spit, stepping in, fists clenched. “You knew! You fucking knew I—”
“She's not yours,” Phoenix cuts in flatly. “You just locked her in a box like a broken toy you didn't know what to do with.”
The words slam into me like a freight train. My brain is buzzing, blood roaring in my ears.
He touched her. Put his fucking hands on her—inside her!
“She offered,” he adds, shrugging one shoulder like it's nothing to stress over.
I snap, punching him hard enough that my knuckles scream. His head jerks to the side, but he takes it like he's been waiting for it. As if he wanted it.
Phoenix spits blood, then grins with an infuriating glint in his eye. “You left the cage unguarded, Myles.”
My stomach flips. He says it like it’s my fault.
“You did this to spite me,” I growl. “You don't want her, you just wanted to take what I had. You always have.”
He gets in my face. “Well I want her now.”
And that right there—that smug, I-get-what-I-want tone in his voice—is the last straw.
I swing again. He dodges. Ivy yelps and jumps back as we slam into the wall, fists and fury and years of buried shit pouring out of me.
He doesn't care about her. He sees her as a hole to fuck. A game to win. Not a person. Not Ivy. He's just using her. Ruining her.
I shove him off me. But then I see it…
He’s shielding her.
Like I'm the threat now.
“Get the fuck out of the way,” I snarl, lunging for her. “Don't you dare fucking keep her from me.”
“Myles, stop—please,” she begs, tone high, voice shaking.
Neither of us listen. Not even for a second.
He grabs her waist, pulling her behind him again, calm as ever. “You're not in the right headspace for this.”
“Oh, fuck you, Phoenix.” I reach around him, grabbing her wrist. “You don't get to play hero. You didn't even want her until she opened her legs. Now you're going to play guard dog?”
“She made a choice.”
“She doesn't know what the fuck she's doing!” I roar, yanking her toward me. “You're fucking with her head!”
“She's not a fucking toy, Myles!” he shouts back, grabbing her other arm. “You don't just get to own her because you decided to!”
We're both gripping her—each of us holding a piece like we’re going to break her in half.
She's the only damn thing that matters.
Ivy lets out a choked sob, eyes brimming with tears as we jostle her. Her feet scramble for traction on the floor, trying to steady herself. Her wide eyes dart between us, begging for one of us to stop.
But I can't let go. I won't.
Because letting go means I lose. It means he wins… that I wasn't enough.
I'm not ready to accept that. Not ever.
If I lose her now. I won’t survive it.