Chapter 12
brAM
Ihaven’t left her side since we arrived at the hotel. She wraps herself in the duvet, drawing her knees close to her chest. Her face is turned away, only letting me see a glimpse of her red hair splaying over the pillow. I want to promise her everything will work out, but the world is a cruel place… and we both know I’d be lying.
I sit on the edge of her bed, expecting her to bark at me to leave, but she doesn’t, which worries me more. People who have something to fight for are dangerous; people who have nothing to live for are reckless.
I stroke her over the covers, gently petting the curve of her back in what I hope is a comforting gesture. She doesn’t move away but doesn’t respond either.
Time ticks by. Although I can’t offer any words of reassurance, I need her to know that I’m here and won’t be going anywhere. Even if I could speak, I wouldn’t be able to find the right thing to say. No words cover learning your sister is still alive and ready to defend the man who destroyed your life.
Eventually, Ivy rolls over. Her eyes are bloodshot and puffy, but her cheeks are dry.
“Why are you still here?” she croaks.
I get a glass of water from the bedside table.
“No,” she replies.
I raise an eyebrow. You have to drink.
Reluctantly, she huffs and shuffles herself into a seated position. Even with her red eyes and slept-in hair, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. This might even be the most beautiful she’s ever looked because—finally—she’s not pretending, even if it breaks my heart to see her hurting. Her bravado and mask have been stripped back, and I see the real her, not a brain-washed killer.
I pass her the glass, and she sips reluctantly, then takes bigger gulps before passing it back to me.
We don’t have any proper food, but there’s a generous selection of individually wrapped biscuits that I collect and throw onto the bed for her to pick from. They don’t have custard creams, but there’s a posh version of a Jam Cream, which is the second-best option.
“I’m not hungry,” she insists.
Her stomach growls loudly in disagreement.
I narrow my eyes in a way that says, You have to eat.
“What’s the point?” she sighs. “Daisy doesn’t want me, and Spencer’s still alive. There’s nothing left for me.”
Cautiously, I shuffle closer. She doesn’t move away as I wrap my arm around her shoulder and pull her into my chest.
“Everything I did was for Daisy,” she says, falling against me. “All I wanted was to make them pay for what they did and make them suffer like we had to. How could she defend him? How can she leave her child with him? I…” Her bottom lip trembles. “How didn’t I know? I spent five years in the Killers Club, and there wasn’t even a hint that she was alive. How could Alaric and Stephanie have kept it from me? They knew she meant the world to me. She was—is—my everything.”
I wish I had the answers.
“I just… I… What am I supposed to do, Bram?” she asks. “I need her to see the truth. I need her to see the club for what it is. Alaric and Stephanie are monsters! Maybe then…” Her voice breaks. “Maybe then I’d get my sister back.”
“You don’t have to do it alone,” a voice says from behind us.
Seb must have re-entered the room without us noticing.
“I told you to leave me alone,” Ivy says, her tone glacial.
“I know, but I wanted to check whether you needed food.” He eyes our biscuit picnic. “But I see Bram is taking good care of you.”
I shoot him a glare. Of course, I am. What did you think I was going to do? Let her starve?
“Go,” she orders.
Seb ignores her, staying put and wringing his hands. “I want to make this right. Whatever you need to help Daisy see the truth, we’re with you every step of the way.”
“Didn’t you hear her at Spencer’s? She doesn’t want me,” Ivy snarls. “She’s already made her decision.”
“You know the Killers Club better than anyone,” he says. “They fuck with people’s minds. From the sound of it, Daisy doesn’t have a choice. Something else is going on. They have a hold on her in exchange for Spencer’s life, and maybe we can break it.”
“How?” Ivy snaps. “How are we supposed to do that when we don’t know where she is? You don’t know them like I do. You just don’t get it. They’ll never stop. Ever. We’re sitting ducks here. Don’t you understand that? We’re only alive because they’re allowing us to be. They’ll come for us. And when they do, we’re all dead.” Her chin dips as she breathes, quiet enough for only me to hear. “Maybe that won’t be a bad thing…”
Hey! I grab her chin and tilt her face upwards, hoping she can read my expression. Don’t give up, Ivy. We’ll fight until our last dying breath for you. For Daisy, too.
“We might die,” Seb agrees. “But I’d rather die knowing that I’ve tried to fix things than trying to save our arses. You have our word.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?” She scoffs. “Freddie’s word means shit.”
“Freddie let you down, and he knows that,” Seb says. “That’s why he’s stood down as our leader. I’m the new boss now, and when I say you have our word, I mean it.”
My mouth falls open in surprise. Freddie’s ruling over the Dukes is his entire identity. His giving that up says more than Ivy can understand. It means he’s serious about making amends and will do whatever it takes.
“So, Freddie’s gone?”
“He’s not staying with us,” Seb says. “But he’s not leaving the Dukes either, he needs to fix his mistakes. He’ll follow my orders. My priorities are making sure you’re safe and helping Daisy. We have a long way to go to redeem ourselves, but we’d like it if you'd let us try.”
The old Ivy would fight back—maybe she’d even try to throttle him, but she ponders before saying, “Fine. Now get the fuck out of my room.”
Although Seb is the Duke’s newly appointed leader, neither he nor Ivy realise that more power has shifted. Ivy’s now the one in control, and she’s the only person I want to follow. I’ll follow her to the ends of the earth if I have to…