Chapter 11 Ivy
IVY
My best friend Moira calls, and she doesn’t stop. Talking to her seems impossible, like she’s part of a world I don’t even belong to anymore.
So I ignore her.
For two days I ignored her, almost regretting getting my phone back from Ruslan, but now I can barely stand hearing that ringtone again. Turning my phone off seems like the best bet until Ruslan passes me in the kitchen and watches me over the rim of his coffee mug.
“You still haven’t spoken to her?” he asks as my phone screen lights up for the umpteenth time.
I shake my head. “First, I wasn’t sure I should.”
“I said you could.”
“But now it just feels weird.”
“Weird how?”
I can’t tell if he’s asking because he’s genuinely interested or if he’s just making conversation.
We haven’t even spoken about what happened that night after the rescue.
We kissed. We kissed more than I’ve ever kissed anyone before, and his fingers were inside me, but the next morning, he acted like nothing happened.
Bringing it up myself feels far too awkward.
Now it’s just a thing that we’re both aware of but for some reason, won’t talk about.
“Everything that’s happened these past few weeks…” I wet my lower lip and sigh. “The Ivy she knew doesn’t exist anymore.”
“You don’t know that.” Ruslan drains his cup and sets it down near the sink. “Maybe talking to her is exactly what you need. An injection of normality.”
“You’re really okay with my doing that? Talking to her?”
He turns to face me and his hair fluffs around his face, igniting a desire within me to run my hands through it. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“What if my call triggers something? You’re a secret club and have all these cool tech things. You’re telling me there’s no danger in my taking a call?”
Ruslan snorts. “A club. We’re not a bunch of teenagers. Take the call. Just, y’know, if you value your safety, you won’t tell her anything you shouldn’t.”
My eyes narrow as I watch him head for the door. “What if I did?”
He pauses in the doorway and slowly turns toward me. “If we’re at the joking stage of what happened to you, then I would tell you another bout of torture would straighten you out. But if we’re not…” Trailing off, he shrugs one shoulder. “I have some things to tend to. Stay here.”
“I couldn’t leave even if I wanted to!” I call after him as he vanishes into the hallway.
Am I at the joking stage? I can’t tell. Some moments, it’s like everything is really far away in my past. My parents, the crash, the torture. Other moments, it’s like it all just happened an hour ago and my chest gets so tight I can’t breathe.
Maybe Ruslan is right.
The next time Moira calls, I answer.
“Ivy?” She screeches down the line at me. “Ivy, are you there? Is that you?”
“It’s me, Moira.”
“Ivy! Oh, my fucking God, girl. What does it take for you to answer the damn phone?”
“I’ve been… distracted.” Resting against a windowsill overlooking the city, I gaze through the slightly warped glass and track some birds drifting past.
“Distracted because you got arrested?”
“What?” My heart pulses suddenly in my chest and heat cascades through me from head to toe. “What are you talking about?”
“Don’t give me that! It’s all over the internet!”
“Moira… what are you talking about?”
“Ugh, hold on. Let me send it to you.” The clack of her nails against her phone screen is the only sound for a handful of seconds before her voice returns. “So tell me, girlie, are you alright? What the hell happened? I’ve been worried sick about you!”
Lowering my phone, I tap through to my messages and click the video Moira sent. It’s a phone recording from someone in the crowd when Ruslan and I were arrested outside the hospital. It never even crossed my mind that someone would film that when absolutely no one stepped in to help us.
“Ivy?” Moira’s small voice drags me out of repeatedly watching the footage. “Ivy, where did you go?”
“I’m here, sorry. I was watching the video.”
“People are going insane over the police brutality, but I recognized you immediately, and when I couldn’t get ahold of you and couldn’t get any information from those pigs, I found out your mom is in the hospital! Ivy, where the hell are you? What is happening?”
“I’m…” My attention darts back outside. “It’s not what you think.” I doubt she’d believe me if I told her the truth. “I know it looks bad.”
“Looks bad? Girl, the only good thing about that video was the hottie they threw in after you. You should see the hashtags about him.” She chuckles for a second, then her voice returns to a serious tone. “Seriously, Ivy. I’m scared for you. What’s happening?”
“I’m in police protection because of the plane crash. That’s all it is.”
“Police protection?” There’s not a single note of belief in her tone. “Everyone’s saying there’s some sort of cover-up going on there. Is that why you’re in hiding?”
“No, Moira. It’s not a cover-up. Honestly, it’s the insatiable press I’m hiding from.
The plane crashed and it was terrible, and I know other survivors struggled so much that they…
they took their own lives. That coupled with my mom getting—” My throat closes suddenly, and a strangled gasp escapes me as my mind floods with the image of her lying in that bed.
Her bruised and beaten face. Her cold, frail fingers.
“She was mugged,” I say hoarsely. “It’s all s-such terrible timing.”
“Mugged? Oh, my God, I’m moving out of New York,” Moira mutters. “This is insane.”
“It’s just… just bad timing.” What else can I say? The truth has to stay with me lest I invoke the genuine anger of Ruslan, a man who strangled another man to death. God knows what else he’s done.
“This makes no sense,” Moira replies.
“Doesn’t it? The plane crash was terrible and scary, and then there were reporters everywhere hounding me with questions and it was so terrifying, so I begged the police to keep me safe while the crash was investigated and that’s what they’re doing. Keeping me safe.”
“Even the hot one?” Moira’s tone turns coy.
“I’m not really in a space to think about that right now.” Not when Ruslan and I haven’t even spoken about what we did together.
“Sure,” Moira sighs. “Fuck, you’ve no idea how good it is to hear your voice.
I was so worried. My fiancé went down a rabbit hole of conspiracy theories when I couldn’t get ahold of you, and honestly, they were starting to sound legit.
Some people say that was a drug mule plane and that there’s a lot of shit going down because it crashed. Can you imagine?”
I force a laugh. “That’s crazy.”
“I dunno. You should read some of the stuff. I’ll send you some links.” Moira pauses and when she speaks again, her voice is softer. “Is your mom gonna be okay? I dropped by your parents’ place but didn’t get a chance to speak to your dad.”
My dad.
It hits me like a punch in the gut. I have no idea what happened to his body, who was taking care of it, or if I can even give him a funeral. Exhausted tears warm behind my eyes as I close them.
“Weird,” I say, and my voice sounds distant. “He must have been on his way to the hospital. Mom’s gonna be fine, so the doctor says.”
“That’s a relief,” Moira replies with a laugh. “You’ve been through more than enough already.”
“You’ve no idea.”
“Meet me for lunch. I need to see you face-to-face.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. It’s police protection, not Witness Protection, right? I need to see you’re okay with my own eyes, Ivy. I haven’t slept properly since the crash because no one would tell me anything.”
Guilt joins the grief in my chest as I open my eyes, then I nod slowly. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
“I miss you, girlie. Please, please don’t leave me hanging again.”
The call ends after Moira spent ten minutes informing me that she and her fiancé have been in the process of converting their garage into an art room for him and his hobby, and surprisingly, that’s much nicer to listen to.
The normalcy of it all is soothing. Life would be effortless if all I had to worry about was whether cherry pink or rose pink was a better shade to match with mauve.
After the call ends, silence consumes me like a cotton blanket and the only sound that reaches my ears is my own racing heart.
A tidal wave of thoughts rest on the brink in my mind, ready to wash me away to insanity as soon as I acknowledge them, so I keep my mind as blank as I can and watch the city heave below.
“Tea?” A soft voice with the slight warmth of an Italian accent rises up from the doorway of the lounge I claimed for my call.
In the doorway stands a tall man with a muscular body barely contained within a black string tank top.
A large steaming mug is clasped in his hands, and when our eyes meet, he smiles and the corners of his turquoise eyes crinkle.
Close-cropped brown hair melts into his tawny skin and the sight of him reminds me of one odd point.
I’ve never met anyone else who lives here, aside from glimpsing Valentina in the sewers.
“Tea?” I repeat.
“You look like you could use it. It’s chamomile and mint, soothing and a little sweet at the same time.” He walks forward, and the fabric of his cargo pants swishes slightly with each step. “Unless you’re allergic.”
“Yes—I mean no, I’m not allergic. Tea would be amazing.”
“Thought so.” He walks close and hands me the mug, keeping his palm underneath it until it’s firmly in my hands. “I’m Cassian, by the way. We haven’t met. At least not when you were awake.” He pauses and his brows crease together. “That sounds creepier than I meant it to.”
It’s hard not to smile. “Wow, watching me while I sleep? Weirdo.”
Cassian huffs a soft, gentle laugh that’s somehow deeper than his voice. “Damn. You caught me.”
“Thank you.” I lift the mug to my lips and take a careful sip. Within seconds, a soothing warmth spreads through my entire body and I hug the mug to my chest. “You’re the Jack, right?”
Cassian moves to lean against the back of the nearest couch and nods. “When I heard Ruslan told you everything, I wasn’t sure how well that would go.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “Everything about this is unusual.”
“Because plane crashes are so normal?”
Cassian chuckles again. “No, but it’s not typically something we get involved with. As dangerous as it might sound, it’s still a minimal conflict between two families that doesn’t threaten the wider balance of things.”
I sip slowly as I listen. “Is that how you decide who to help? If it threatens to shake up the peace?”
“Mostly.” Cassian nods. “It’s hard, but it’s how the Suit has thrived for so many years. Something like this is… unusual.”
“Are you saying I don’t deserve Ruslan’s help?”
“No!” Cassian surges forward slightly. “I’m not saying that at all.
What I mean is… he hasn’t been the Ace for that long, and typically, there are teething issues when someone new joins, but Ruslan is a whole different ballgame.
Who knows?” Cassian’s smile relaxes. “Maybe it’s good to shake things up if he sees something we don’t. ”
“Maybe it’ll pay off to help the little guy.”
“It might,” Cassian agrees. “But working out where to draw the line is where it gets tricky. How do you decide which little guy isn’t worth helping?”
He makes a good point. As fantastical as this group sounds in all its glory and power, the responsibility must be crushing. Ruslan spoke of a fragile peace, and one wrong move could surely break their world.
“Enough about that, though,” Cassian says after a moment of silence. “Is there anything you need? Anything I can get for you?”
I gulp my tea and focus on the warmth sweeping down my throat, then shake my head. “All I really want to do is be with my mom, but I know that isn’t doable.” What little hope I have of that is crushed as Cassian nods.
“No can do, I’m afraid.”
“Can you find out what happened to my dad?”
Cassian’s head tilts slightly, a question warming his eyes.
“They told me my dad was murdered. But no one told me how or where he is or anything like that and I…” I fight the welling tears as I try to get my words out. “I’d like to know.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Cassian says softly. “I’m sorry, Ivy. This must be so hard for you.”
“I’m okay. Except I’m not. And I keep crying and it makes me feel weak, but what else am I supposed to do?”
“Crying isn’t weak.” Cassian presses his lips together. “You’re a tiny fish thrown into one hell of a murky pond. I think a few tears are expected.”
“Do you think…” I turn from the window and place my good foot back on the ground.
“Do you think you could take me home, to my parents’ place?
A lot of my stuff is there because even though I have my own place, I was always too busy with work to move stuff properly.
My clothes are there and maybe… maybe a memento. ”
Cassian seems to debate with himself for a few minutes and then he nods. “You know what? I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
As I drain the rest of my tea, my thoughts turn back to that night with Ruslan, but not to the sex. I focus on the picture Ruslan showed me of my father and that Russian Pakhan.
Such an image feels impossible, but if I can get home, then I can maybe find out the truth.
If my father was up to something and hiding it, then I know exactly where to look.