Chapter 20
Zane
The sun hasn’t even risen yet, but the woods are already behind me.
My boots are caked in mud, arms scratched from the brush, and three rabbits swing by their tied feet in my grip. My pack’s heavier with foraged mushrooms, wild onions, and carefully wrapped eggs.
It's not much after an entire night hunting—I was hoping for a deer—but it's something. Enough to feel like I'm pulling my weight and feeding the group.
I'm quiet coming in, only out of habit, not courtesy. Phoenix and Myles are probably still out cold.
Stepping into the storeroom, I drop the haul in the cooler chest and stretch out my shoulder. My scars pull with the motion, but I ignore it.
The hallway’s dark, just a sliver of early light leaking through the boarded windows. My feet take me to the holding room without thinking.
Pausing at the bars, I see the lock is in place, but something feels… off.
Ivy stirs under the threadbare blanket, waking up, one bare leg sliding into view. There’s a fresh bruise on her ankle.
What has Myles done now?
Her hair is a tangled mess across the pillow, golden and wild. Her eyes blink open slowly, adjusting to the dim light creeping through the windows.
And fuck me, she's gorgeous.
When she sees me, she doesn't flinch, doesn't curl up or shrink back the way she used to a month ago. It makes my heart beam, and my lips pull into a smile.
She rubs her eyes, unafraid. “Hey,” she murmurs, voice hoarse.
Goddamn, she’s adorable. This unguarded side of her is something special. So sweet and effortlessly enchanting.
“Hey,” I say back, crouching beside the bars.
Then a barrage of scents hits me the moment I sit.
Subtle, but undeniable.
Myles. Ivy.
Sweat. Sex.
It lingers in the air like heat.
She shifts onto her back, the blanket slipping to reveal her throat, and I see it. A faint bite mark on the side of her neck, a bruise on her jaw.
The smile slips from my face as the world comes crashing down around me.
The bruises start to paint a picture in my mind. Hands pinning her down roughly, his teeth on her throat, marking her like a wild animal.
Feeling my heart sinking, I shift my gaze to the floor. “You sleep alright?”
“Yeah… better than usual.” There's a flicker of something shy in her voice. But no shame. “Myles has been nicer this week,” she says excitedly. “Phoenix still hasn’t come back though.”
My stomach clenches, still stuck on the visuals of Myles dominating her, but I lift my head to meet her bright blue eyes again. “Yeah?”
She hesitates, chewing on her bottom lip. “Don’t tell Myles. Phoenix was… different. I don't know. Not what I expected.”
I force a smile. “He's a bit like that. I'm surprised he even visited to be honest.”
She nods, drawing the blanket closer around her chest. “I'm still figuring you guys out.”
The fact she's even comfortable telling me that, should feel like a win.
But all I can think about is the scent in the air. The bruises. That bite mark.
The snake waited until I was gone. Did he hurt her? Did she cry? Fight him? Beg him to stop?
I want to rip the scent of Myles off her skin. I want to break something, slam my fists into the concrete until the ache in my chest has somewhere else to live.
Instead, I clench my jaw until it throbs.
It shouldn't hit like this. I told her no. I told myself no. But here I am, chest cracking open like it's the first time I've ever been betrayed.
What the fuck did I expect?
Shifting my position, I rest my forearm on my knee and try to ground myself. Try not to let any of what I'm feeling leak through.
But I want to reach for her. Check the bruises. Ask if she's okay.
I thought I'd be able to handle this. That I could be patient and win her over slowly.
Now I'm staring at the aftermath of Myles getting what I turned down, and it's burning holes in my gut.
God-fucking-dammit!
I should’ve had her first. Marked her first.
Stupid. Weak. Soft.
I hate myself for it for letting it happen. But maybe he gave her something I couldn't. Maybe she liked the violence. Wanted it that way. The pleasure mixed with pain.
And that’s the part I won’t give her. Not because I can’t. Because I know if I start, I won’t be able to stop. The things I used to enjoy when I was a monster. The things that made girls cry when I—
I cut the thought off. I can’t go there. It’s too ugly.
She’s not mine. Never was.
Looking at her, I see all the ones I couldn’t save. The girls locked up in cages while I looked the other way until they were thrown at my feet, and I was ordered to ruin them. I was the one who hurt them. Me.
And I wanted to protect her from a similar fate. Protect her from Myles… and myself.
Drawing in a slow breath, I try to keep the heat from rising from my throat. The jealousy. The ache of it. My fingers curl tightly around the rusted bars.
For a second, I imagine tearing them down, dragging her out and forcing her to tell me what the fuck he did to her. But I don’t. I just breathe and try to smile.
“I'll get something going for breakfast. You okay with eggs again?” I say, rising slowly, keeping my voice as even as possible.
She smiles brightly. “That sounds lovely.”
Giving her a nod, I head toward the door. Once I'm out, I lean against the wall in the hallway and run a hand through my hair.
I can't fall apart now.
She just smiled at me for the first fucking time. She’s beginning to trust us. Letting us in—some of us too far in. That smile should’ve been enough to bring me to my knees. So why does it feel like I'm coming apart?
Shaking my head to cleanse my thoughts, I make my way to the kitchen, forcing the image of her bare legs out of my mind.
The eggs I found are small, speckled things, wild quail probably. There’s not many, just enough for a decent scramble if I stretch it with a few other foraged ingredients. Cracking the eggs into a bowl, I start chopping.
Those marks on her—faint, but there. As if she was handled roughly, like maybe she…
My throat tightens. Did she actually want it?
Myles is intense. Too intense. I've seen him lose control plenty of times before. I saw it when he caught her that night a month ago. That sharp edge he rides. The way he wants something and just takes it.
But she seemed relaxed earlier… almost happy.
Letting out a rough breath, I dump the contents of the bowl into the pan I've been warming. It sizzles, mirroring the emotions simmering in me.
Goddamnit. I’ve fucked this whole thing sideways before it even started. She offered it to me first, and I broke her heart like a clueless idiot! Trying to be noble. Trying to deny the real monster I am. I shouldn't care so much.
No. That's a lie.
I knew I cared since the first night we took her in. Well… we kidnapped her. No point in sugar coating it.
I need to stop all this thinking. I need something else to distract me from this ache.
The eggs are nearly done, wafting with fragrance, though I can't remember half of making them. My hands moved on their own, muscle memory taking over while my thoughts spun in ugly circles.
Stirring the pan with a little too much force, it scrapes against the burner and nearly falls. It’d be a crime to waste this food—and Phoenix would probably make me eat it off the floor.
Footsteps creak on the stairs behind me, and I don't have to look to know who it is. Only one of us walks like the floor might explode underfoot.
Phoenix stalks in and heads straight for the dented kettle on the stove. Without a word, he flicks it on like it personally offended him.
Good. I can work with that. He’s as twisted up as I am, he just hides it better. If I poke hard enough, I’ll get him to show it. That’s something. Something outside of her.
“Morning,” I say, making my tone sound cheery.
He grunts before opening the coffee tin and ignoring me. Business as usual then.
Did she let him touch her too?
My eye twitches as I shove that thought back down and wait a second until I can control my tone. Then I toss it out casually. “Ivy said you visited her.”
The silence clicks.
Phoenix doesn't answer, but he pauses. Like he heard me but hasn't decided whether to lie about it.
I smirk to myself. “Didn't peg you for the jail cell-visiting type. Real romantic.”
He doesn’t respond. Typical.
Spatula in hand, I turn more toward him, set on antagonising him until I feel better. “She said you were different. Sounds like someone's got a soft spot.”
Phoenix finally looks at me, and it's the kind of glare that could cauterise a wound. “Don't start.”
“Oh, I'm starting,” I say, grinning now. “You went from ‘we can't keep her’ to midnight rendezvous. What happened, huh? She flash those big blues and suddenly you're writing poetry? Gonna take her flowers next time too?”
“I'm not doing this with you.”
I raise my eyebrows, biting back a laugh. “C’mon, admit it. You like her.”
“I don't.”
“Phoenix.”
“I said let it go,” he snaps.
But I'm already too far in—chasing the relief of this distraction like a dying man clawing for air.
Leaning back against the counter, I cross my arms. “Look, it's fine. She's got that effect. Big eyes. That soft little voice. I get it. Hell, even Myles isn't being a complete bastard lately.”
Lie. He’s taking the quick route to a beating.
Phoenix glares, but it's not rage, it's something worse. Panic behind the armour.
Oh shit. I wasn’t expecting to be right.
“You think you know everything,” he mutters, turning back to the coffee. “Always running your mouth.”
“I just think it's funny,” I say, tone slightly tightened as the fun of my ‘distraction’ thins. “You've got her locked in a cell and she’s still managing to pull your strings. That's talent.”
The kettle screeches once before Phoenix shuts it off with a snap. “Drop it, Zane.”
I sigh, turning back to the eggs. “Alright. Dropped.” But I'm frowning to myself as I plate the food.
Because now I know.
Phoenix might not have touched her… but he's not as uninterested as he pretends.
He’s circling the same edge I am.