Chapter 15
Myles
Five fucking minutes.
Five whole minutes I took stressing over how to approach her. That's five minutes more than I've ever spent thinking before doing anything.
Zane's words from last week buzz in my head like a mosquito I can't swat.
Speak softer. Move slower. Don’t scare her.
I still don’t know what the fuck any of that is supposed to mean.
The way she looked at me that night has replayed in my head a hundred times. Her eyes full of tears as she shook her head. The way she’d flinched.
That guilt has curled hot and bitter in my gut for the entire week. So I avoided her… like a fucking coward. Pretending it didn't affect me. Only going in there to feed her and make sure Zane hasn’t been touching what doesn’t belong to him.
Stepping inside now, I try to carry myself like I'm not six-foot-three of coiled aggression on a good day.
She's sitting on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Drowning in a new hoodie that makes her look even smaller than she is. Her eyes flick up momentarily.
Something in me claws at my precarious calm.
“Hey,” I say, too loud, too sharp.
Shit.
Softer, Myles. Softer.
Clearing my throat, I try again. “Uh. Hey… Ivy.”
Her head jerks slightly. She didn't think I knew her name. Probably figured Zane wouldn't tell.
But he did. He let it slip and I've been sitting with it ever since.
Ivy. Ivy, Ivy, Ivy.
It suits her. Delicate. Pretty. Winding its way under your skin until you're tangled before you even realise.
For three weeks this girl has occupied my thoughts, but she still hasn’t spoken a word to me. At this point, I’ll try anything to get her to open up. To flower.
How do you even soften body language? Should I slouch more? What should I do with my hands?
Leaning awkwardly against the door frame, I fold my arms in what I hope is a chill, non-scary way. But she just blinks at me.
I smile… she doesn't.
“So,” I say, gesturing vaguely. “How’s, uh… how's the cell?”
What the fuck, Myles?
She gives me a look that's not scared… not exactly, but cautious. Confused.
“I brought you a granola bar.” I toss it onto her bed like it's a live grenade and immediately regret that too. “Zane says you like them.”
Silence stretches. My skin itches with it.
How does Zane do this?
Glancing at a chair by one of the desks, I drag it over and sit across from her like I've rehearsed this… because I have, God help me.
“So…” I start, slower this time. “I just wanted to, y’know… check in. See how you're, uh… holding up.”
She blinks. I blink back. Like a reflection in a mirror—one of us trapped, both of us waiting for the other to crack.
This is hell.
I want to slam my fist into the wall. Want to do something. I want her to look at me, but not like I'm a threat. Like I matter. Similar to how she did the first day when she saw us and her eyes went wide with that mix of fear and awe.
Pushing the frustration down, I try to keep it small. But it doesn't stay small.
“You've been talking to Zane,” I say suddenly.
Her expression shifts and her shoulders tense.
“Is that—” I cut myself off before I can say something possessive. Nice save, idiot.
Running a hand through my hair, I let out a sharp breath.
“Do you… talk to him about… stuff?” I ask, chest tightening like a vice. “I mean… that's good. You feel safe with him?”
She nods.
Something twists in me and my teeth grind together.
“I can be that too, you know,” I say, too fast now. “Safe. Or whatever. I'm just—Look, none of this is coming out right. I’m not great at this ‘slow stuff’. The talking. The… softness.”
Her eyes are still on me, but not in the way I want. Embarrassment floods through me.
I'm making a fool of myself! Stumbling over my words, as if each one matters. Shooting to my feet, I pace the room like it’ll shake this feeling off.
“Every time I try something, I fuck it up. I don't know how to make you trust me… it's… it’s driving me fucking insane,” my voice rises before I can stop it.
She shrinks back a little, and I freeze.
“Shit,” I breathe, squeezing my eyes shut. “I'm doing it again.”
Dragging my hand down my face, I lower myself back into the chair, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor.
“I want you to talk to me. That's all,” I say, voice raw now. “I want to hear your voice... like you do for Zane.”
A second passes.
“I—I don't want to be the one that makes you flinch.”
Glancing back up at her, I see she's still watching me. Still quiet. But her hand, it's holding the granola bar now… and it isn't trembling anymore.
It's not much. But it feels like a win.
This whole act just feels so wrong, like my skin’s too tight. But if it gets her to crawl… I’ll use it again and again.
She still hasn't said a damn word though. She's sitting there, quiet and unreadable. And I swear she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
This feels like Chinese water torture.
“My name’s Myles anyway… I…” I trail off. Useless. I don’t know how to do this.
The silence is a snare around my throat. It's hard to breathe. My hands tighten into fists against my thighs before I force them flat again.
“You're not making this easy, Ivy,” I mutter. “I’m trying to give you everything… everything I don’t know how to give.”
She blinks slowly but doesn't answer. Of course she doesn't.
I stare at her. At the curve of her delicate throat, the way her lips press together like she's holding something back. She looks as if she’s barely holding herself together.
Then it hits me, she's not going to trust me just because I sit still and whisper. What a stupid suggestion. Zane was definitely trying to hinder my progress with her. I'm certain about it. He's trying to sabotage me, so he can have her all to himself.
Well, fuck him and his suggestions.
Leaning forward again, I rest my elbows on my knees and drop my voice lower. Not softer this time, darker.
“You know,” I say, watching her carefully, “Zane might have all the patience in the world, but me? I don't.”
Her eyes flick to mine with full focus.
Finally.
“I'm trying here. Trying my best. But you're not giving me anything, Ivy,” I press, letting her name hang in the air.
That word alone makes something twist in my chest.
“I brought you food. I’ve been nice all week. I'm trying.”
Still nothing.
Exhaling a bitter laugh, I sit back.
“Maybe that's the problem. Maybe I'm wasting my time.” I tilt my head, studying her like she's a riddle I'm tired of attempting to solve. “You think we're gonna keep feeding you? Keep protecting you while you give us the cold shoulder? That's not how this world works, sweetheart.”
Her shoulders stiffen.
So I press the heel of my boot against the floor, letting the silence stretch again… but this time I make sure it feels like a threat.
“You wanna try your luck out there?” I nod toward the windows, the distant groans of wind beyond them. “You wanna go back to whatever was chasing you before we found you?”
Ivy’s lips part with a soft inhale, and I know she's thinking about it. About the constant panic of finding somewhere safe to sleep each night. Fighting other scavengers for scraps and hiding from raiders and flesh traders. Constantly making sure you’re not being followed.
Leaning forward again, I lower my voice just enough to sound intimate, like this is a secret. As if I'm doing her a favour.
“You don't have to like me. You don't even have to trust me. But I'm the only reason you're here… and the only one who gets to decide if you stay. You have to give me something, little doe. Something that shows me you understand that.”
Tapping on the bars pressed against her bed, the sound rings out like a dinner bell. “Come closer.”
She doesn't move.
I click my tongue against my teeth, annoyed. “I'm not gonna hurt you. If I wanted to, I would’ve already.”
She flinches at that, and my stomach clenches. Not with guilt. With the brutal reminder of how easily I could break her and how badly I don’t want to.
Fuck.
Shifting gears, I try to ‘soften’ my voice again. But this time, not out of kindness. Using the kind of softness that predators use to coax their prey out of hiding.
“You don't have to talk. Just… come sit closer to the bars. That's all. Let me see you're not planning to bite the hand that's feeding you.”
Her eyes search my face, and I see the cogs in her brain working. There’s the obvious distrust, but also… a hint of hope. As if she finally sees the wisdom in pleasing the monster instead of provoking it.
So, I give her a final push. “I can keep them away from you,” I promise. “All those dangerous men out there. I can make sure no one lays a finger on you. But I need something to work with. A reason to keep protecting you when it's costing me this much.”
After another long beat, Ivy shifts, cautiously sliding forward inch by inch, until she's at the bars.
I watch the movement like it’s sacred. Because I’ve never waited this long for anything, and goddamn it feels good to finally see it.
My chest aches with hunger as I watch her silent surrender. Pride welling at seeing some progress after three weeks.
Her knees touch the cold iron bars, and she bows her head, naturally falling into the perfect submissive position.
And just like that… my panic settles. I can breathe again.
That's my good girl.