15. Ivy #2
Hand in hand, we follow the damp cobbled corridor, veering to the right as it leads us closer to the sound of water. Nausea churns in my stomach, but this time I’m not alone, and I try to take courage and strength from my hated mate beside me.
A sudden crack makes me flinch, my breath lodged in my throat as I freeze.
“What was that?” I croak, and Archer’s hand tightens around mine as he scrubs at his jaw.
“It sounded like the snap of leather,” he states, and my veins turn to ice.
“A whip?” I clarify, and he nods, widening my eyes as fear tears up my spine.
Despite the terror thrumming through me, I force myself to put one foot in front of the other until we round the corner to the left and I’m halted in my tracks once again.
I watch with my own eyes as the whip lashes through the air, the slap of it hitting its target, only to enhance the sound as it ricochets off the chamber walls. I feel the lashing as if it were against my own skin, and horror burns through me.
“Ivy, is that—”
“My mother,” I breathe, completing his sentence as I gape at the naked woman hanging from the ceiling, chains tight around her wrists.
It’s instinct that makes me take a step forward, the ache in my chest blossoming as I forget every terrible thing she’s said or done to me. Archer tightens his grasp on my hand, remaining at my side. The second I turn to glower at him, I’m instantly reminded that this is a vision. It’s not real.
Not now, at least.
My gaze returns to the focal point of the room: my mother, but it’s too much for my heart to bear. Which is odd as hell since I watched my father die, unfazed and somewhat relieved. Maybe that’s because he killed me first, and my mother hasn’t gone to that extreme… yet.
Looking past her, I take in the room. Metal bars fill a small window in the distance, while the rest of the space is enclosed by the same damp walls. A burst pipe dangles in the far left corner, droplets of water falling in rhythm; the source of the damn dripping.
A thud from behind us spins my attention, my spine stiffening as footsteps approach, and despair cuts through me as my father steps into the room. My hold on Archer’s hand grows tighter as fear zaps through me.
My father’s stride is calculated and sure as he comes to a stop in front of my mother, wearing a charcoal gray suit, tailored to perfection.
“Sapphira.” Her name falls from his lips like a command, but she barely sways her head to glance at him.
“Reginald,” she breathes in response, defeat clinging to her, and my father exhales.
“Are you ready to commit?” he asks, and she grimaces, her chin dipping back to her chest.
“Go,” she rasps, but my father ignores her request and takes a step toward her instead.
“Sapphira, do you really want your life to continue like this?” he goads, frustration lighting his words.
“I’m imprisoned either way,” she mumbles, and my eyebrows furrow.
“It doesn’t have to be like this. It could be beautiful.”
“There is nothing beautiful in being your slave, Reginald,” she retorts with the little strength she has, and my father’s hands curl into fists at his sides.
“You could walk at my side, Sapphira. We could make a beautiful life, one to share, a family, together.”
If he’s trying to appeal to her desires, he’s doing a poor job. Her nose crinkles, and my heart sinks. At least she’s always lacked the desire for children, and it wasn’t just because of me.
“If you’re trying to sell me on your diabolical plan, you’re going about it the wrong way,” she hisses, speaking my thoughts as my father eliminates the remaining distance between them.
I grimace as he cups her bare breast, but my mother doesn’t flinch.
“You want me to pull the big guns out, don’t you?
Do you want to be my damsel in distress?
” he muses, and she sighs, but before she can breathe a word, he continues.
“Consider me persuaded.” He clears his throat, stroking the tip of his finger between the valley of her breasts before he takes a step back, making sure to look deep into her eyes.
“Give me what I want, Sapphira: a home, a family, a life of royalty; and I’ll give you what you want: your family. ”
She scoffs. “You think I want my family? I—”
“Captive,” my father interrupts, and my mother’s gaze snaps up, eyes burning into his.
There it is. There’s the look of desire.
“Give me what I want, and I will help you get revenge on your family.”
My heartbeat echoes in my mind as I blink at them.
Revenge for what?
“Vow it,” my mother commands, and my father grins, all devilish and sinister.
“I vow to you, Sapphira, that I will guide the deserved revenge upon your family.”
“Even though the revenge is for selling me to you?” she pushes, despair lurching my chest as I splutter on my next breath, and my father nods.
“I vow it.”
My vision turns white, terror and delirium drowning me before my sight returns, revealing my dorm room, relic and all.
Archer stands beside me, eyes wide as he blinks from the golden sphere to me and back again.
“That was…”
“Sad,” I breathe, and he gulps, but something else wars inside of me as understanding takes root.
I’m starting to learn how Leonardo Corrigan works.
He shows me what I want to see, but the way he wants me to understand it is for his gain.
“Why would he give you that?” Archer asks, and I gulp, the answer already perched on the tip of my tongue.
“To show me.”
“To show you what?” Archer pushes, and I sigh.
“My options.”
“You’re not making sense.”
“My mother had a choice in how she was held captive, so do I.”
“He’s not getting anywhere near you,” he promises, and I manage a sad smile as I tilt my head back and inhale slowly before looking back at my hated mate.
“But when he does, he’s making sure I know who is in control and what my life will look like if I don’t fall in line.”
“I’d rather we didn’t talk like that,” Archer mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “But for your mother, your father gave her something she craved. Has Leonardo done that to you?” he pushes, and my lips twist for a moment as I think.
“No.” Not yet, at least.
“Then we need to figure out what you desire most in the world before he does.”