Chapter 49
Zane
That was hard to watch.
I didn’t think she’d assume we were planning on leaving her. But Phoenix wanted Myles to take the lead. So I had to grit my teeth while he fumbled through it.
Myles stares at her with watery eyes, as if she just put his heart back in his chest. His arms still wrapped around her possessively, not letting go—won’t, unless someone pries him off with a crowbar.
Phoenix and I step forward at the same time, close enough to feel the heat rolling off her skin. For once, there’s no tension between the three of us.
Just this fragile, weightless moment.
Ivy stands between us, small and delicate.
But then her face drains. The colour runs out of her like someone pulled a plug. Her grip on Myles slackens. Her lips part. Eyes unfocused. Pupils wide.
“Ivy?” My voice is too loud.
She pushes away from Myles, one hand wrapping around her stomach. She blinks, sways on her feet.
Then her knees buckle. Myles lunges, catching her around her waist. “Whoa, baby, hey…”
She shakes her head, trying to push him off. Her free hand shoots up to cover her mouth before she hunches forward and vomits on the floor.
“What the fuck!” Myles chokes, dropping down beside her, one arm still wrapped around her even as she continues trying to push him away.
Phoenix crouches beside her a heartbeat later, but not touching her. “What is it?” His voice is sharp, edged with fear he can’t hide. Panic dragging him back into his past. “What did she eat? Drink? An allergy?”
“I don’t know!” Myles yells, then looks up at me, wild-eyed. “Zane, do something!”
I’m already moving, sprinting to the kitchen, shoulder bashing into the doorframe. The back of a chair catches on my hip as I pass, spinning on one leg before clattering flat.
Ignoring it, I grab a towel and fill a bowl of water with shaking hands. Water splashes, soaking through my boots as I skid back into the hall, towel clenched in my fist.
My mind races, thoughts so loud. Bad water? Spoiled meat? No. Stop. Focus!
Her body trembles, breaths coming in shallow, stuttering inhales. She throws up again, and this time, she makes this sound… something like a sob caught in her throat. Myles strokes her hair, trying to soothe her.
“Ivy,” I drop to my knees beside her, gently pressing the wet towel to her forehead. “Look at me. Can you talk?”
Her lips are pale, trembling. “I—,” she swallows hard, “I feel sick. Thought I stood up too fast… or that smell.”
“What smell?” Phoenix’s eyes flick between us. He’s scanning the hallway like an enemy’s about to jump out, fists clenched at his sides, shaking. “What has she eaten?”
Ivy’s face is a mosaic of panic and confusion, screaming for me to offer some kind of comfort.
I glance at him, stomach sinking. “Breakfast was late, but nothing spoiled—”
Myles’s voice cuts through, breathing like he’s about to hyperventilate. “She’s cold, Zane. Her skin’s fucking cold. What does that mean?”
“I don’t know!” I snap, then catch myself when she flinches. “Sorry, Ivy. We just… we need to figure out what’s happening.”
I run my fingers along the inside of her wrist, counting her pulse like second nature. Airway clear. Breathing shallow but steady. Circulation weak but present. My instincts still work even when my hands tremble.
Tears stream down her cheeks. “What’s happening to me?” she sobs, voice breaking.
Fuck. We’re scaring her.
“Hey,” I coo, softening my tone. “Slow breaths. You’re okay. We’re right here.”
Phoenix crouches next to her again, jaw locked. His fingertips flex against his thighs but he still won’t touch her. “We need to lay her down,” he says, clipped. “Carefully. If it’s an injury from—”
“Don’t say that!” Myles barks, shifting his body to guard her. “Don’t fucking say that, unless you know.”
“I don’t know,” Phoenix shoots back. “And neither do you.”
“Let’s get her back on the couch,” I interrupt, keeping my voice low but firm. “Come on.”
Myles and I guide her back to the battered couch while Phoenix gets a bucket in case she throws up again. Her hair brushes my arm as she collapses into the cushions, clammy skin sticking to the leather.
“Phoenix’s fireplace,” she mutters weakly, eyes closed. “That smell… it’s horrid.”
Placing the bucket on the floor beside the couch, Phoenix’s brows knit together. “I haven’t lit a fire today.”
I don’t know what she’s talking about, but it’s not a good sign.
Lifting my nose, I inhale but there’s only a faint smell of woodsmoke and ash. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Myles tucks the blanket around her, thumb rubbing circles on her hand. Phoenix hovers behind the couch, scanning her like he’s cataloguing every twitch. I kneel on the floor by her head, wet towel in hand, blood thundering in my ears.
I force my voice steady. “It’s not internal bleeding,” I tell them quietly, trying to sound calm but I don’t feel calm. “She wouldn’t be lucid like this. She wouldn’t be able to talk.”
“She just threw up twice,” Myles hisses. “How is that not fucking serious?”
“It is serious,” I snap. “But if it were organ damage, she’d be in more pain. She wouldn’t just be nauseous… there’d be fever. Blood. Seizures. And it’s been two weeks since they came for her. This isn’t that.”
“Then what is it?” His eyes are wet, wild.
I don’t want to say it. Not yet. The possibility sits heavy in my chest like a loaded weapon.
Her pallor, sudden nausea at smells, fuller breasts. Shit.
She’s been here two months and only bled once. It’s early, but she’s been through hell, her body may not be following the rules.
Could be stress, could be something worse. But the signs… I’ve seen them before. Sasha didn’t survive it. If I’m right, then Ivy… My stomach lurches at the thought.
Fuck! Did I do this to her?
It’s safe to say none of us have been thinking straight since we met her. But has one of us signed her death warrant?
I think I knew the second her hand went to her mouth like that, the way her eyes darted around the room like she was confused, frightened by her own body.
Glancing at Phoenix, his jaw is set, but his eyes flick to Ivy’s flat stomach, then back to mine. He’s thinking the same thing.
Myles looks like he’s ready to kill someone just to make her breathe steady again.
My throat closes around the words. I don’t want to be the one to say it aloud.
Because I know I’m about to detonate something none of us are ready for.
Say it. Just say it.
“She might be…” I force the word out. “…pregnant.”