3. Ivy
IVY
T he church walls feel like they’re closing in at my sides, while the aisle stretches for miles as I stare up at the altar.
Every seat in the pews is taken, all eyes bouncing back and forth between me and the nightmare that awaits as the glow from the sun cascading through the stained glass windows diminishes.
In its place falls darkness as the crackle of thunder vibrates outside.
Hugo.
Tension ripples as the four pairs of eyes dead ahead devour my every move. I can’t look away. Staring off with them feels easier than acknowledging the shame and embarrassment that flood my veins, feelings that will only be amplified around this room as onlookers witness my humiliation once more.
I can sense my father’s outline to my left up near the front, with the familiar feathers of my mother’s fascinator dancing in that direction, but I don’t look. I don’t need to feel the weight of his shame as well.
There’s not even an ounce of strength in me to dare to look at my brother, even though every fiber of my being screams to turn to him for support.
As much as my mind has ideas, my broken heart has others, and under their intense stare, it refuses to do anything but stand tall and alone.
The soft keys of the piano come to an abrupt halt, heightening the suspense as the impending chaos threatens to crescendo.
Lightning flashes through the windows, confirming Hugo’s emotions are uncontainable, surprising a wave of gasps out of many gathered in the church, but the four men stand firm, watching for a sign of weakness.
They won’t find one here.
Sucking in a sharp breath, I run my hands down my lace as I take a measured step down the aisle, followed by another, and another.
The air thickens with the stillness of held breaths.
You could hear a pin drop if I let one fall from my hair right now, anticipation rising as I draw closer to whatever The Fates have in store for me.
It takes everything in me to stop my mind from wandering.
Instead, I focus on the flowers that line the aisle, each one chosen with such precision and care by my mother, all for them to be a blur of pastels as I pass by.
Their scent infiltrates my lungs as the sound of my heels echoes around the room.
I feel hot all over, the taste of dread on my tongue as I come to a stop beside the four of them.
The room feels smaller, the burning in my lungs reminding me of my inability to breathe as their eyes bore into me.
For the first time, I look away, a sigh falling from my lips as I brush my finger over the priest’s podium, leaving a small trail through the light layer of dust that lies against the wood.
Pursing my lips, I rub the dust between my finger and thumb. “Why isn’t my father protesting?” I ask before blowing the remnants from my skin, still ignoring their intense stare.
“What?” the closest guy grunts, inching closer as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.
I clear my throat as I point my thumb over my shoulder to where I can feel my parents’ intense stares. “My father. I can’t imagine this was what he had planned.” Finally bringing my attention to his, I watch as his eyes cut to the man in question.
A snarl rips across his lips as his eyes narrow. “Your father attempted to make a fool of us,” he bites, and my eyes widen in surprise.
“Pray tell,” I insist, my heart racing with fascination, but the amusement is quickly snuffed out as he reaches for my chin.
His grip is tight as he looms over me, his snarl deepening as he speaks. “It would be wise for you to know who you were speaking to before you part those lips, Ivy Hayworth,” he warns, and I curl my hand around his wrist as I jut my chin, despite his tight hold.
“Don’t ever lay your hands on me again, Archer Bowen.”
His eyes manage to narrow further, his hatred for my fortitude clear, but I’ve spent enough time being belittled by my father. I’ve reached my limit.
“Why are you here?” I ask, another heavy sigh falling from my lips as I look past him to the others. To my surprise, he drops his hold, stepping back faster than I expect, as if scalded by my touch.
I cock a brow, taking each of them in as I wait patiently for a response.
To the left is Theodore Lupus. The charismatic grin on his face confirms it before considering any of his other features, but it’s impossible to ignore the messy blond hair that covers his head and the dazzling blue eyes that shimmer like crystal-clear waters.
He’s relaxed, hands stuffed in his pockets with his shoulders dropped, and his head is slightly tilted as he stares me down.
Like he didn’t play a part in destroying me the last time we were face to face.
I feel my cheeks threaten to heat before I swiftly move to the guy next to him, my gaze colliding with the furious green eyes that promise to destroy me.
Baron Linton. His long brown hair is coiled into a tamed bun at the back of his head, revealing every inch of his face that isn’t hidden behind his well-kept beard, yet there’s an invisible barrier standing between us.
As if he’s mastered the art of hiding himself from the world in plain sight.
How, I don’t know, since he’s well over six feet tall and his shoulders are so broad it’s impossible to look around him.
Which is how my eyes fall to those beside him.
The shape is the same, even their jaw lines match, yet the pupils are a deep brown, a hint of curiosity glistening in the corners as Sax Linton takes me in.
Up close, it’s easier to tell them apart.
That day, I thought I was seeing double, but while his brother’s hair is long and his face half-hidden behind his beard, Sax is clean-shaven with his hair cropped, yet the same brown curls claim him too.
He’s not angry like his brother, not so obviously anyway, but there’s still a definite air of disapproval that emanates from him.
My gaze trails back to the man standing closest. Archer Bowen.
His hazel eyes promise pain, a stark contrast to the rest of him that stands tall and certain, manicured to perfection, as if my mother had a hand in piecing him together.
He screams of control, which is probably why I want to disobey him so much, and his harshness hasn’t gone unnoticed, earning him even more of my ire, which is currently expressing itself in the form of a bubbling rage in the pit of my stomach.
When no one speaks, I heave another sigh, running my hands over the lace of my dress as I give each of them a pointed look. “Are you really going to show up here, on my wedding day, and gate-crash with no explanation?”
Theodore scoffs. “We’re not gate-crashing because there won’t be a wedding,” he clarifies, and I snicker, waving my hands down the length of me, making sure they can see the dress I’m wearing before looking around the room to reconfirm exactly where we are.
“It looks like all I need is a groom,” I state, and Baron’s jaw ticks. Good. “I’m going to assume you aren’t my intended grooms. So, where is he?” I ask, taking a step back as I make a dramatic show of searching for him.
With my hand against my forehead, I drag my gaze across the room, managing to avoid anyone’s expectant gaze before I look toward the altar, only to falter at the pool of blood slowly seeping from around the back of the top table that’s been set up.
Drawn to the crimson marks, my pulse quickens in my ears as I follow the trail. My gaze falls upon a lifeless body, propped precariously against the white satin cloth, while my ears prickle at the whimpers coming from the corner of the space.
The priest.
His eyes are wide, fear pouring from him without a single movement or tear tracking down his face, and all I can do is gape between the two of them as I try to process what the hell I’m witnessing.
Clearing my throat, I force myself to turn back to the four men in question, each one looking at me expectantly. “What the hell is going on?”
Theodore takes a step forward, standing side by side with Archer as he cocks a brow at me. “Do you feel sick?”
“What?” I blurt, confusion getting the better of me as my hand lands on my stomach.
“A slight tingling of nausea?” he pushes, and I shake my head.
“What are you talking about?” I retort, and he grins with delight, taking a backward step as he holds his hand out toward Baron.
“Pay up, man. You were wrong.”
“What is going on?” I repeat, irritation clawing up my throat as Baron grunts, stuffing his hand in his pocket to reveal a bill before tossing it at Theodore.
“You lost me money,” the grumpy Linton brother states, and I pinch the bridge of my nose, losing to the desperation that consumes me.
Taking a deep breath, I force my shoulders to relax as I point toward the exit. “I need you to leave.”
Sax plants his hands on his hips as he assesses me. “We’re ready to go when you are.”
My eyebrows pinch with confusion. “Don’t you think you’ve haunted my nightmares enough? I don’t need the reminder of you in real life, too,” I bite, and Theodore grins, wagging his eyebrows at me.
“You dream about me, Princess?” he murmurs, and I’ve reached my limit.
To hell with being strong and standing on my own; I need my brother.
Where the hell is Hugo?
My gaze snaps to the back of the church to find my brother frozen in place. I rear back as I suddenly become more alert and aware of my surroundings, quickly realizing that nobody is moving. There are no whispers or gasps; it’s all…stopped.
Despite my better judgment, I dare to look at my parents, only to find them held in position too. My father’s face has never looked so angry. His finger is aimed at me, fury storming his vision, while my mother places her hand on his thigh, desperate to placate him.
Whirling back around to my living nightmare, my hands curl at my sides. “What have you done to my brother?”
Theodore shrugs. “If I undo it, chaos will erupt.”
“Chaos is erupting, and you don’t want to see how angry I can get. Now, release my brother,” I demand, and Archer sighs, scrubbing his hand over his chin as he glares at me.
“Once you have agreed to come with us,” he states, and I scoff.
Is he insane?
“I’m going nowhere with you,” I hiss, the air in the room feeling chilly all of a sudden, but I refuse to wrap my arms around my middle and look weak to them.
Archer glances over his shoulder, ignoring my refusal. “We should have just taken her as I said,” he explains, angering me further.
“Kidnapping is illegal, you know!” I holler, and his harrowing stare returns to mine.
“Tell someone who gives a shit.”
I bluster with exasperation as Theodore clamps his hand on Archer’s shoulder, side-stepping him as he approaches. “Be gentle and kind, remember?” he murmurs. To whom, I’m not quite sure, but he comes to a stop in front of me with his arms wide open and a fake smile plastered on his face.
“We are here to accept our fated mate.” He says it like he anticipates a joyous commotion as my hands land on my hips, the gems on my dress digging into my palms, and I welcome the pain.
“Well, she doesn’t accept you back,” I grunt, and he shrugs.
“Everyone else already agreed.”
“Who, specifically?”
He waves his hand at the four of them, and I shrug.
“I reject.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Baron bites, and I hold back a scream.
“Because men get all the power. I’m aware. Release my brother,” I demand, waving my hand toward the man in question, but Baron shrugs.
“Hewy will understand.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped across the face, ice chilling through my bones as the air from my lungs whooshes from my lips. “You know my brother?”
Archer sighs, blocking my view as I wait for an answer. “Agree.”
“No,” I protest, taking a step back, refusing to let him hold all of the power, and I highly anticipate him following me, but it’s Theodore who crowds my space as my back hits the far wall.
Dammit, now I look like I’m running.
I am running.
“Be real, Ivy. Is this what you want? To marry some guy your father…” His words trail off as he peers back toward the blood continuing to spill from behind the table.
“Well, that’s not possible now anyway.” He shakes his head, returning his focus to me.
“Do you want to stay here in this mundane life, or do you finally want to live?” His voice is gentle, cajoling, and I hate it.
“You don’t know anything about me,” I snap, and he rolls his eyes.
“Everyone knows of The Angel from Heaven’s Ridge.”
My nostrils flare with annoyance. “I don’t have a single ounce of trust in any of you.”
“Nobody expects you to,” he insists, and I shake my head.
“But you want me to leave with you?”
“To Neverbound Academy,” Archer interjects, and Theodore takes a step back. “Fated mates will be in namesake only. Once there, you are free to do as you wish without dishonoring my name and marrying some fool,” he grinds out, and I scoff, disbelief clouding my vision as I blink at him.
“Dishonoring your name? You rejected me in front of the entire kingdom,” I explode, but he pays me no mind as he glances down at the expensive watch on his wrist.
“Time’s up. Are you coming by choice or by force?” he asks, and I gape at him.
“You wouldn’t,” I breathe, and he takes a step toward me. I try to move, but I’m quickly reminded by the rough surface behind me that I’ve got nowhere to run.
For the first time since I stepped inside the church, the thundering of my heart subsides, allowing my mind to finally reel, considering my options.
I’ve only ever dreamed of Neverbound Academy, a fate I believed vanished two years ago when my world came crashing down.
Because of them.
Now the opportunity presents itself once more.
Also because of them.
Going doesn’t mean forgiving them. If anything, it means making them pay.
A flicker of shame threatens to rear its ugly head as my stomach twists, but I swallow it down.
He’s right.
Stupid Theodore Lupus is right.
I have two choices, and there’s no question which one wins.
Stay here under my father’s control and newfound heavy hand, or finally reap the rewards of attending Neverbound Academy.
Clearing my throat, I push off the wall with a nod. “I’ll go, but I want to say goodbye to my brother first,” I breathe, my condition fair as I nod, but Archer reaches for my wrist as he shakes his head.
“Time’s up.”