Chapter 51
Ivy
A sparrow drops onto the sagging fencepost, flicking dust from its wings.
The soil is warm, crumbling between my fingers. Dry, but soft—just enough give to dig my fingers in and press the seeds into the earth. They’ll each grow into something beautiful. Something safe and loved and cared for.
My nails pick up dirt that I’ll have to scrape out later. But it feels good. It feels like hope.
Maybe I shouldn’t have lied this morning. I told Zane that Myles was coming out with me, when I knew he was still asleep upstairs. Now I feel a little guilty.
They’ll wring my neck when they find out. And I wish that didn’t make butterflies flutter low in my belly.
I just couldn’t bring myself to wake them after they ran around like headless chickens yesterday. They panicked all afternoon, packing like the building was on fire. Myles even went out and brought home a pile of expired pregnancy tests.
Obviously they were inconclusive. But he was clearly disappointed with each one that said ‘negative’, and excited again when another was ‘positive’. I’ve never peed so much in my life.
Why they’re treating this like the end of the world is beyond me. Regardless, they need rest, Zane was busy cooking, and I need fresh air.
It feels good. A small way I can brighten the lives of those three headstrong men that have unceremoniously smashed down every wall I’d built around my heart.
The sun kisses my shoulders, my hands covered in dirt. The breeze smells like old engine grease and sun-warmed wood and a whisper of smoke from Phoenix’s fireplace. It smells like home. Though it turns my stomach a little.
‘Pregnant’…
They acted like it’s a death sentence, but the thought made me smile. Then I pressed my palm against my belly as if it would confirm or deny the ache of hope.
I’ve done the math and I’m definitely late. My cycle is like clockwork, and I had my period a little over four weeks ago.
Bennett had tried for months—years with Kate. He tracked our cycles and blamed us for being ‘barren’. Part of me believed him.
I’d love to rub this in his face. I can just imagine his expression before my men tear him apart. My monsters.
Sitting back on my heels, I wipe my palms on my thighs and look up at the old, country-town police station in front of me.
Our home.
The place where I’ve slept between warm bodies. Where I’ve heard laughter again and started to hope for something more.
I wonder if this was a cute little town full of cheery people back in its prime. Like something out of a wholesome, fluffy rom-com.
Our story might not be fluffy, but we’ve still filled it with our own brand of love.
My heart squeezes in my chest.
Love?
I never thought I’d use that word to describe anything again. But with them, it’s the only word that comes close. I’m not sure when it happened, but at some point, they became more than just hot kidnappers.
Myles, with his white-hot—sometimes terrifying—passion. Phoenix, dominant but fiercely protective. And Zane, with his gentle nature, haunted by a past that went against his kind soul.
Yes. ‘Love’ is exactly the word I’d use to describe my feelings for them. All of them.
Oh god. Whose baby is it? Will they care? They agreed to try this, but we never even considered the possibility of pregnancy.
Something shifts in the air, birds scattering.
A low rumble vibrating through the earth. A sound that cuts through the stillness like a warning shot. Abrupt and rude.
I freeze.
It’s wrong. Too loud. Too heavy.
Too close.
I spin around just as the red pickup truck skids to a stop. Rusted paint, filthy… and familiar. The cloud of dust behind it is so thick it chokes the air and the sun goes grainy.
It feels like a dream… or a memory. A nightmare I thought I left buried in the dirt.
Three men jump from the bed of the truck before I can even find my feet.
A primal scream rips out of me as I clamber up, trying to run before I’m even standing.
But one hand clamps tight on my ankle, pulling my feet out from under me. I fight desperately, fingers raking in the dirt. My heel finds a shin, my nails scrape someone’s wrist, but it’s not enough.
It’s too late. They’re too fast, too practiced.
Arms slam around my ribcage, pinning my arms to my ribs so tight I can’t breathe. Another grabs my other leg and before I know it, the sky spins and I’m in the bed of the pickup truck.
The bed is hot against my skin, tasting like dust and metal.
The door to the station explodes open, Phoenix and Zane barrelling out. For a second, I think someone will tear them off me.
“PHOENIX!” I scream, the taste of blood coating my throat, the fear of losing them bearing down.
Phoenix tackles one of the guys before he can climb back in the truck. Myles tears out of the front door, shotgun in hand. But the truck’s already screeching down the street, tyres spitting gravel.
I thrash against their hold, my scream turning to a sob.
Zane runs after the truck, screaming my name, something tortured on his face.
Myles raises his gun. But I see his hesitation—he doesn’t want to risk hitting me.
The driver jerks the wheel sideways. The back-end swinging wide, my head bouncing off the lip of the bed as the truck lurches. My vision blurs, the world narrowing.
As I’m fighting for consciousness, they force me flat against the rusted metal, kneeling on my arms with a rough efficiency that makes my bones scream.
A hand shoves my face sideways and a cold blade presses against my throat.
Everything goes quiet. Everything except the roar of the engine and my thundering heart.
Then they laugh. A breathless kind of laughter as if they’ve just got away with shoplifting.
Their small cruel smiles say everything. I know these men. The way they think. What makes them laugh.
The one with the knife to my throat, Billy, would laugh and whisper threats in my ear before every punishment. The other one, Jeb, used to laugh when I cried.
I know them all too well.
No one says a word. They know they don’t need to make threats. And that’s far worse than any threats.
Time dissolves into steady jolts of hot metal under me.
After being pinned to the rattling bed of the pickup for what I’m sure is hours, my arms are dead, my body sore. But when the broken windmill comes into view, I’d gladly take another hour.
As dust from the dirt road fills my nostrils, my heart sinks. I think of them, the men who’d given me air, who’d killed to protect me. To protect our fragile patch of sun. Who had made me believe something new could take root.
It feels like I left this shanty farm a lifetime ago, I half-expected everything would be different. But it’s exactly the same.
The leaning shed. The shitty slanted roof of the main house that always leaked when it rained. The old barn where they’d keep us when we were being punished. Even the sagging porch I scrubbed blood off a dozen times.
The barn door groans in the wind the same way it did the night they dragged Kate’s body out. The creaking itches under my skin, turning my stomach.
My breath stops and I tremble so hard I can’t hold still. My teeth chatter and my fingers go numb.
“No…” I whisper, but it barely makes it past my lips. “Please… no…”
The truck slows as it nears the old worn-down farmhouse.
Billy grins at me with chipped teeth. “We missed you, Ivy,” he says, as if this is some romantic reunion.
“Father Bennett is gonna be real happy you came home.” He leans in closer, his foul breath hot against my face.
“Y’know, he was real pissed when you ran.
Said next time, he wouldn’t spoil you so much. Said you’d be an example.”
Jeb barks a laugh. “Told us to leave you marked this time. So you’d know running isn’t an option.”
A third voice comes from the cab of the pickup—Jack, always casual and cruel. “Said maybe we get to have you now. That you’re a wayward Eve. And you need to learn to appreciate what you had. You’ll be livin’ in your collar now,” he chuckles, spitting out the window.
Suddenly my daydreaming about rubbing my pregnancy in Bennet’s face isn’t so satisfying. I can’t let him find out.
My body shudders as reality hits me like a bucket of cold water, shocking me awake from my pleasant dream. My teeth chatter, terror hollowing me out as my hand slips protectively over my belly.
The truck skids to a stop next to the old farmhouse and Billy grabs my hair, yanking me upright as I scream in pain. Rust flakes crumble under my palms the way soil did this morning.
He leans down close to my face, his grin stretching wider. “Home sweet home, bitch.”