40. Ivy
40
IVY
The house I share with Ramsey looks exactly the same, but everything feels different. I turn my key in the lock. Years of memories flood back - late-night mission briefings, impromptu cooking disasters, quiet mornings when words weren’t necessary. It’s funny how a place can be so familiar and so foreign at the same time.
The scent of jasmine tea hits me before I reach the kitchen. Ramsey is waiting, two mugs already steaming on the counter. Of course he knew I was coming. He always knows. That’s been our dynamic since the day The Syndicate paired us together - him one step ahead, me charging forward anyway.
“So,” he says, sliding one mug toward me. “This is it?”
I wrap my hands around the warm ceramic, grateful for something to hold on to. “Yeah. I guess it is.”
He studies me over the rim of his mug, his expression soft but knowing. “MistHallow’s a good fit for you. For all of you.”
“It is,” I agree, then hesitate. “You could come too, you know. You and Josh.”
“I knew you were going to say that!” he exclaims triumphantly and holds his hand out as Josh saunters into the kitchen, grumbling and slapping a fiver onto his palm.
“So, is that a yes?” I venture.
His face turns sober again. “No, Ives. We need to stay here.”
Even though I knew deep down that would be his answer, it still stings. “Why?”
He sets his mug down, giving me that look that says I should already know the answer. The same look he gave me when I tried to convince him that starting a bar fight with a vampire coven was a good distraction technique. “Because someone needs to maintain order here. Keep The Syndicate running smoothly on this end. Make sure Thornfield doesn’t completely fall apart. But more than that, Josh and I have built something here. A life. A purpose. The Resistance and The Syndicate, that’s important. Maybe more important now than ever.”
“Because of what I’ve become?”
“Because of what everything’s becoming,” he corrects as Josh wraps his arms around me from behind and leans his chin on the top of my head. “The supernatural world is changing, Ivy. You’re part of that change, but there needs to be stability too. People who understand both the old ways and the new. The Syndicate can’t just be about eliminating anyone who pays the highest price anymore. It needs to evolve.”
“And that’s where you come in?”
“That’s where we come in,” he nods. “Me and Josh. We can bridge that gap here, while you and your guys forge ahead at MistHallow. Someone needs to stay behind and help guide that evolution.”
I take a sip of tea to hide the tremor in my hands. “I’m going to miss you. Both of you. It won’t be the same without my handler keeping me in line.”
“As if I ever managed that,” he snorts. “But we’ll miss you too, Ives.”
Josh kisses the top of my head and lets me go so he can stand by Ramsey’s side. “This isn’t goodbye forever,” he says, reading my thoughts. “It’s just a new chapter.”
“When did you get so wise?”
“Hey, I’ve always been this way.”
I grin despite the tears threatening to spill. “True enough.”
Ramsey and I smile at each other across the kitchen counter, years of shared missions, inside jokes, and quiet moments hanging between us. The bond between handler and asset was supposed to be professional and distant. Instead, we became family.
“You will always be my best friend,” I say suddenly, needing him to know. “That won’t change, no matter where I am or what I’ve become.”
“I know.” His voice is gentle. “You’re mine too.”
“You’ll visit?” I ask.
“Try to stop us,” Josh says. “I’m dying to see that place. It’s like legendary.”
“Yeah, someone has to make sure you’re not terrorising that poor academy too badly,” Ramsey adds with a laugh.
“I would never.”
“Yeah, okay,” he chuckles.
“Things are going to be different now,” I say after a moment, my fingers tracing the rim of my mug. “With The Syndicate, with everything. Being Death... it changes things.”
Ramsey nods, exchanging a look with Josh. “They already are. But different doesn’t mean worse. The old ways of The Syndicate - the secrecy, the rigid hierarchy, the ‘eliminate first, no questions asked’ approach - maybe it’s time for those to change.”
“They need to understand what’s changed,” I say, setting my mug down. “The Syndicate continues, but under new management. My management.”
Ramsey nods approvingly. “You’ve already got a lot of the assets on your side. The handlers, too. They are pretty much just shit scared of the new boss.”
I giggle. “Too right.”
“We need to show them that Death, Life, Rebirth, whatever you are now called, isn’t just taking over—she’s offering them a better way forward.”
“Exactly,” I agree. “No more taking contracts on innocents. No more political assassinations for the highest bidder. We focus on actual threats—we deep dive before we accept, and we only take the ones who prey on others.”
“Works for me. Let’s just hope everyone who is not already on board falls in line.”
“They don’t have a choice,” I say firmly. “Death isn’t asking permission.”
Ramsey grins, that familiar gleam in his eye that always meant things were about to get interesting. “Ready to go explain to a room full of assassins that they work for you now?”
“Always.”
The Syndicate’s about to learn that this isn’t a democracy. It’s my way or the highway. It’s a promise of change, and whether they like it or not, things are going to be different from now on.
Ramsey and I leave Josh and head across campus to the underground bunker where The Syndicate operates in Thornfield.
We glide right in, and no one bats an eye as they continue their work, going about their business as if nothing has changed. Not everyone is here, and that’s fine. Word will trickle down, and that’s how it’s always been done. Death was never a main feature here. Fuck knows I didn’t have a clue he was the head of the organisation until very recently, so I doubt anyone here knows either. Swann and maybe one or two others, if they’re lucky.
I spot Swann leaning over a rep and jabbing at the screen. He must sense me as he lifts his head up and then straightens, giving me a swift nod.
“Attention, everyone,” Ramsey calls out, his voice carrying authority. The bustling activity in the bunker grinds to a halt as all eyes turn to us. “There have been some changes in management, so listen up.”
The murmurs ripple through the crowd, and they are curious and concerned.
I step forward, feeling the weight of dozens of gazes. I take a deep breath, channelling the power that now flows through me.
“As of now, The Syndicate operates under new leadership. My leadership. You don’t need to know who I am and what I do. All you have to do is listen and do. Things are going to be different from here on out.”
Murmurs ripple through the crowd. I catch snippets of confusion, concern, and more than a little fear. Good. A healthy dose of fear will make this transition smoother.
“We’re no longer taking contracts indiscriminately,” I continue. “No more political hits for the sake of it, no more targeting innocents for the highest bidder. From now on, we focus on actual threats—those who prey on others, who cause true harm.”
“And who decides what constitutes a ‘true threat’?” a rep calls out. “Us?”
“Yes. You need to deep dive these people. There will be no more quick turnaround. It takes as long as it takes to determine if these creatures are truly evil and need wiping off the face of the earth. You are all masters of the dark web, so take your job to the next level.”
“Do we get a pay rise?” someone else whines. “This sounds like a lot of work.”
“It’s only a lot of work if you don’t know what you’re doing,” I snap. “In which case, you don’t belong here. Do you belong here?” I fix her with a vicious scowl.
“Y-yes, ma’am,” she stammers.
“In that case, do your job, and we will reassess pay grades and also a new hierarchy. Some of you will excel, and some of you will remain stagnant. That is the nature of the circle.”
“Understood,” Swann says, giving me some much-wanted, if not needed, backup.
“This isn’t a debate or a negotiation. The Syndicate continues, but we pivot. If anyone has a problem with that, the door is right there, don’t let it hit your arse on the way out.” I pause, letting my gaze sweep across the room. No one moves. “Good,” I continue. “Now, for those wondering about the practical changes, all current contracts are suspended pending review. Ramsey and Swann will be overseeing that process. Any new contracts go through them first for approval.”
“What about our current targets?” someone asks. “Some of us are mid-mission.”
“Did you not just hear what I said? We need to make sure every hit aligns with our new objectives. Pull them back.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The room buzzes with whispered conversations and uncertain glances. I can feel the tension, fear, and curiosity. Some are excited by the prospect of change, others wary of what it might mean for their positions.
“One more thing,” I add, my voice dropping to a dangerous purr. “If I catch wind of anyone going rogue, taking unapproved contracts on the side, or leaking information about these changes... well, let’s just say I don’t take kindly to traitors.”
The temperature in the room drops several degrees as I let a bit of Death show. Good. Let them stew on that for a while.
“Any questions?” I ask sweetly.
The room remains silent, as expected.
“Excellent. Now, get back to work. You’ve got a lot of reassessing to do,” I say, letting the Death glamour fade.
As they get back to work, Ramsey smiles at me. “Well, that went better than expected. No outright rebellion.”
I snort. “Give it time. There’s always one idiot who thinks they can challenge authority.”
“And when they do?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I give him a wicked grin. “Then they’ll learn why Death isn’t just a fancy title.”
Ramsey shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”
“As if you could,” I say, bumping his shoulder with mine.
We watch as the bunker slowly returns to its usual hum of activity, though there’s a new undercurrent of tension. Change is never easy, especially for an organisation as set in its ways as The Syndicate. But it’s necessary.