Chapter 33
Zane
The cold morning air whips against my cheeks as I jog down the main street toward the police station.
My fingers tighten around the straps of the hunting sack slung over my shoulder. It's lighter than I want it to be. Another two squirrels—barely worth my time, let alone the ammo.
I don’t want to do over-night hunts anymore. The longer I'm gone, the more I hate leaving her behind. But I can’t keep neglecting my duty. I need to keep us fed.
She’s been with us for six weeks now, out of the cell for two. Even though I’ve never jerked off so much in my life, I’ve also never slept better.
But I’m glad I decided to head back when I did.
I knew something was different the second my boots hit the field. The air smelt unfamiliar.
Then I saw two figures on the ridge looking over our town. They looked to be avoiding our town border, but something about them made my skin crawl.
So I ran. Nearly forgetting about the new bear trap on my way through our rigged perimeter.
Pushing through the front door, I pause. The air inside smells different, more feminine. Something sharp and territorial claws beneath my ribs.
Dropping the sack beside the door, I head toward the stairs.
But once I’m in the hallway I hear the murmur of low voices. Following the sound, I find them.
Phoenix and Ivy. Back near the storage room.
Her back’s pressed to the wall, his hand braced above her head, caging her in. Their bodies are inches apart. His hand coming up to cup her cheek like a lover.
He pulls away the second he hears me. But it's too late, I've already seen it.
She’s blushing. And his eyes are heavy with lust. The air between them is charged with heat.
I know how Phoenix handles Myles, but Ivy could never handle that kind of domination. Surely Phoenix knows that. She’s too innocent, a gentle soul. A princess who deserves nothing but gentleness and worship.
That’s exactly why I can never have her like I want. Because I can’t trust myself not to lose control and ruin her. She deserves softness. Not all the ways my intrusive thoughts cry to wreck her.
Burying my envy, I shove those thoughts down where they won’t mess with my aim. There’s a more pressing matter right now.
My jaw locks as I stalk forward, voice tense. “Phoenix.”
He turns, tension radiating off his shoulders like heat off asphalt. “What?”
I glance at Ivy. But she won't meet my eyes.
“Two men,” I say, getting back to the issue at hand. “Near the town perimeter. Saw them from the ridge on the way back… they weren't scavengers.”
Ivy’s face goes pale.
Phoenix straightens, all that heat bleeding out of him as reality slams back in. “Not scavengers?”
I shake my head. “Didn’t look like it. They were moving with purpose. Traders, maybe.”
Her breath hitches. I catch every goddamn flicker of panic on her face. And that's when I know… this isn't just coincidence.
They’re scouts. Searching… for her.
Phoenix turns back to her. “Ivy…”
“It’s them,” she whispers.
My stomach knots.
Them.
The bastards she ran from. The ones who kept her for two fucking years. The ones who shattered her so thoroughly.
I step forward again, instinct kicking hard in my chest. I want to reach for her. Take her into my arms, carry her to my room and bar the door.
But I stop. Because I'm still stuck on what I walked in on. On the way she was looking at him.
My joints stiffen, muscles tightening. Something happened while I was gone. And I hate that I wasn’t here.
I told Phoenix to ‘keep an eye on her’. To look out for her… not fuck her! She’s still bruised. Her body needs rest!
Every damn time I leave, someone makes a fucking move on her.
With every breath, my chest feels tighter. Phoenix hated her at first, and now he’s pinning Ivy to the wall like she’s his high school crush.
My eyes flick to Phoenix. His chest is still rising fast, his hands clenched into fists, like she’s his to protect.
He's not even trying to hide it.
Ivy's arms are wrapped around herself, but she doesn't run to me. Doesn't reach for comfort.
Phoenix reaches out and squeezes her shoulder gently. “Don’t panic, little stray. We’ll handle this.”
Forcing a deep breath through my nose, I tamp down the flare of fire in my chest. I shouldn't be feeling this now. Not with danger on the doorstep.
But I hate that he still calls her that.
“I’ll chuck the meat in the fridge and go do a full perimeter check,” I say roughly, already moving.
Phoenix doesn’t stop me from leaving. But as I’m picking up my game sack from the floor by the front door, I hear his boots behind me again.
“Zane,” he calls. “You only just got home. I’ll go with Myles. We can cover more ground together.”
I nod once. He doesn’t say more than that, just grunts and leaves to find Myles. As if whatever happened between him and Ivy is locked up behind his ribs again.
Within minutes, they’ve left.
Ivy watches them walk down the street from the front window, arms wrapped around herself protectively.
“We can’t be sure it’s them,” I remind her gently. “But we won’t let anyone take you, sweetheart. You know that, right?”
Her mouth opens and closes, she swallows, then nods. But it’s not conviction in her eyes—it’s doubt.
I take another step closer. “It doesn’t matter how many men there are. Or how close they think they are. They won’t get close enough. Not while we’re breathing.”
She forces a smile, but glances toward the door like she’s waiting for someone to burst through it.
“I know you’d protect me,” she says softly. “All of you would. I just—” Her gaze falls to her feet as she shuffles. “I hate that even now… I still feel like they’re stronger. That they could take me again.”
“They won’t,” I say firmly. “They’re not stronger. They’re desperate. And desperation makes men stupid. We’ve got this. We’ve had more training than all of them combined.”
That makes her smile. Just a little. It’s small and tired, but it’s real.
She exhales slowly. “You always make it sound so easy.”
“Because when it comes to you,” I murmur, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, “it is. Keeping you safe… that’s the one thing that makes sense to us.”
Silence lapses again, only this time, it’s a little more comfortable.
Ivy steps away from the door, walking toward the kitchen, trailing her fingers along the wall as she goes.
I follow like I’m tethered to her. Because I feel like I am. My obsession with her is more than just keeping her safe.
And a huge part of me wants—no, needs—to redeem my past self.
To prove to myself that I’m not the same depraved bastard I used to be. That I can be the man she sees. The one I’m trying to be for her. To treat her like the goddess she is… not the whore I want to make her.
“When I was with them,” she says quietly, sitting down at the table, “they didn’t let us outside much.
Tending the vegetable gardens was one of the only times I got to be out in the sun.
But I loved it. Even the weeding,” she laughs softly and looks down at her hands.
“I could pretend like I was somewhere else. Like I had a normal life.”
Grabbing a frying pan from the dishrack, I get started on breakfast while she reminisces.
I’ve never understood the need to speak about the past. But if she finds distraction or healing in speaking about it, then I’ll listen for the rest of my life.
“I’d imagine I was tending my own garden. That it was my house, my chickens.” Her lips curve softly. “That I was just a normal girl.” Her smile falls. “Not a slave.”
“You’re not,” I say, sharper than I mean to and pouring a little too much oil in the pan. “Not anymore. And you won’t ever have to go back to those fuckers.”
She wants a garden. Chickens. Peace. I’ll give her all of it. I’ll give her anything she asks, even if it’s my head on a stick.
Phoenix and Myles will make sure those fuckers aren’t circling back and I’ll keep her mind off it in the meantime.
Ivy nods, eyes still distant. “What about you?” she asks. “Did you have anything like that when you were with the traders? Something to help you escape reality?”
My jaw tightens, the memory hitting harder than I expect.
Keeping my eyes on the frying pan, my hand instinctually comes up to scratch at the brand on my chest. But I try to hide my reaction, not wanting her to think she can’t ask.
“I didn’t have much to hold on to,” I say finally, trying to keep my focus on the oil warming in the pan. “The jobs they gave me were what I wanted to escape from. It was fighting mostly. Killing and stealing—” I pause.
Shit, I can’t tell her I was directly involved in stealing women. That’d hit way too close to home for her. Especially when the ones she escaped might be getting closer.
Peering over my shoulder, I see she’s waiting for me to continue.
Instead, I focus on the part that’ll prove my ability to protect her. “They trained us to fight. But not for survival… for conquest. They’d send a few of us out as ‘berserkers’ on the front lines, when we were… attacking other groups. It was a fun intimidation tactic.”
Her head tilts in my peripheral, but she doesn’t shrink into herself. I don’t know what’s compelling me to open up to her. But it feels good.
“Other times they made us fight in The Pit. It was basically like their Roman colosseum—but it was just an old parking lot with a bunch of chain-link fences. Just entertainment for the group when they couldn’t get their fill of war. But that was also where—”
Fuck, I can’t say that either. No, she should know who I was. “They also made us train women in The Pit. It was all just… so fucked up.”
My hand shakes as I grab the spatula.
The things I’ve done remind me I don’t have the right to breathe the same air as her. The nightmares still haunt me. The look on those girls faces seared into my brain before I learnt to keep them face-down.
I hadn’t slept a full night in years until recently.
This is exactly why I don’t deserve Ivy. Because I keep dreaming about her in their place. If she knew… she’d never let me this close.
She’s quiet now. I can’t even make eye contact with her. “There was no joy to be found. No escape. No pretending.”
I stop, finally glancing at her. She’s looking at me with a softness I’ve never seen in her eyes. As if she sees beyond what I was forced to become.
“There was this one girl though,” I smile at the memory. “We became friends. Didn’t get to talk much, but when we did, it helped. She was smart, like you.”
Her posture shifts, mouth pressing flat. A sourness flickering across her face.
Something in me fucking savours it.
That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Proof that I’m not just a strategic move for her. That she might care for me like I do for her.
Arching a brow, I try to keep my lips from curling into a smirk. “It wasn’t like that, Ivy. Not even close,” I add, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.
She doesn’t respond and won’t look at me now either.
I let a wide grin spread across my face. Yeah, I know it’s petty, but I don’t give a shit.
At least she’s not thinking about the cult searching for her anymore.
“I don’t even remember her name, sweetheart,” I lie, just to see the way her jaw tightens. I sigh, feeling a little guilty for baiting her. “And even if I did… she’s not you,” I add more seriously.
Finally, her eyes find mine again—and the warmth in them now makes something smug twist low in my gut. That pink hue creeps back into her cheeks, this time, because of me.
I find myself hoping the boys will come back early just to see that I’m the reason she’s blushing now.
My chest feels lighter, ego a little bigger.
I shouldn’t feel so proud of this. But it’s a huge win and I’m not going to deny myself this victory.
Yeah… she’s jealous.
And I’m not fucking sorry.