Chapter 37
Ivy
There’s three of them.
One with a wicked scar from ear to chin. Another with a wolf tattoo around his neck and a few missing teeth. The third, bigger and meaner than both, with a crooked nose.
Time slows. My stomach drops through the floor and my limbs go cold.
Even though I don’t know their names, I recognise them instantly. Faces I can't forget, carved into my memory, haunting my dreams.
“There she is,” the big one growls. “You fucking whore.”
“Fucking finally,” the scarred one says.
They move fast. A fist slams across my face, knocking me to the floor, my back hitting the tile and my head bouncing with a sick crack. My lungs seize as my vision goes white, ears ringing.
I’m still blinded when a knee slams into my chest, pinning me down. Pain flares under the pressure but it shocks my body back into breathing and I gasp, choking for air.
Panic rips through me. I blink desperately, trying to clear my vision and ignore the pressure in my skull.
Before I have a chance to find my bearings, rough hands catch my wrists, forcing them above my head.
“You have any idea what we've been through chasing your sorry ass?” one of them snarls, spit hitting my cheek.
I'm dazed, gasping for air, ears squealing as they laugh and talk like I'm not even here. Staying frozen, I wait for it to be over.
That’s the only way to get through it. Don’t fight, don’t make it worse.
But that truth is being stretched like a chain under pressure, until it can’t hold the tension between one truth and another.
The chain finally breaks.
“She's already bleeding,” another chuckles, wiping moisture from my mouth and smearing it across my face. His voice makes my skin crawl.
Tossing my head back and forth, I try to shake his hand off.
“She'll be hurt worse when Father Bennet’s through with her.”
One kicks my thigh, hard. “You were always gonna get dragged back, you stupid bitch. You’re his property. You forget that?”
I try to scream, nothing but a pathetic wheeze chokes out despite the burning in my lungs. Stars dance across my blurry vision, but I can make out the three shadows looming over me.
In the past I would lay still, stop fighting and pray for whatever they planned to be quick.
But I’m not her anymore. I can’t be.
I twist my body and fight to get free. Any marks they leave will be mirrored by Bennett when he sees but—
What am I thinking?! Am I seriously hoping for Bennett to defend me when he’s the one who sent them?
“It’s been over a fucking month,” one sneers. “Six weeks of walking through shit towns and freezing nights 'cause of you.”
A heavyweight crushes down on my legs. One of them straddling me, pinning me to the floor even more. My knees won't move as I try to kick him off.
“She's not wearing underwear,” he says breathless with delight, dragging his fingers up my thigh, smearing something wet… my blood.
His hand climbs higher, until his dirty fingers are cupping me between my legs. “You run around like this now, huh? Bet you've been spreading your legs for whoever is feeding you.”
I’ve survived through worse than this. But this is the first time I’ve wanted more than to just lay here and live through it. I want to fight. To prove I’m not theirs—not Bennett’s.
I suck in a deep breath and scream. The desperate sound rings out, piercing through their laughter before a hand slams down over my mouth.
A flash of movement and a roar tears through the room. Primal, animalistic, and familiar. Every vein in my body freezes before my heartbeat pounds faster.
I know that sound.
The weights on top of me disappear and I curl onto my side, finally able to breathe properly. I blink rapidly as my vision begins to clear.
Just keep breathing. Keep breathing.
The first thing I see is Myles on top of one of them, fists hammering furiously.
He’s here! He came!
The sound of meat hitting meat, and bones cracking are all I hear as I watch the brutal onslaught.
Blood sprays the floor, up the walls. The guy isn't even fighting back. His body is already limp.
I’ve seen violence before, but my stomach still turns, nausea washing over me as terror smothers the momentary relief.
Myles looks cold-blooded as he savagely attacks… but he’s fighting for me.
A tooth skitters in my direction and my focus tunnels on the bloody molar. I should be terrified. But warmth trickles in until my chest is flooded with relief. All I can feel in this moment is… safe.
The big guy shouts and lunges, a blade flashing in his hand. But Myles blocks it with his arm before jumping to his feet. He rams the guy into the wall with a forearm to his throat, the drywall buckling.
That’s when I see the knife still sticking out of his arm.
“Myles!” I shriek, my chest caving at the sight.
But he yanks the knife from his forearm, blood gushing from the wound. Then flips it and drives it into the guy’s thigh, then stomach, then throat.
Screaming. Choking. Silence.
Myles turns, his eyes wild, red streaking across his face, chest heaving. The sight is harrowing but he’s not looking at me. His eyes search frantically until they land on the third guy trying to crawl away.
Trying. He’s clutching his right leg which has a huge hunting knife stuck in it.
Myles charges him and grabs onto his hair, the other hand coming under his jaw before he twists and snaps his neck.
Then stillness again.
Just blood. Broken bodies. And Myles panting heavily with his back to me.
I'm still on the floor. My head pounding and pain radiating through me. Everything aches now. Blinking through tears, as I focus on him.
For a moment I worry he’ll see me as another threat.
But when he turns, his eyes find me and something in his expression collapses. “Ivy,” he chokes, tumbling toward me, dropping to his knees and sliding beside my body. “I'm here… I'm here… fuck, I didn't know… I thought…”
His hands hover over me franticly like he doesn't know where to touch me without hurting me.
Any fear I had dissolves as I watch him breaking apart over my state as if someone shattered his last treasure in this world.
I don’t know what he sees but his eyes flicker over me, down my body and stop where their hands touched what they had no right to.
A strangled sound escapes him. “Fuck… no… no...”
His chest heaves as his pained eyes return to mine and his voice cracks with something raw. “Where are you hurt? Fuck, Ivy, talk to me… please… talk to me, baby, please...”
This man—this terrifying, unhinged man—is begging for me like he’ll lose what’s left of his mind without my answer.
“My head,” I whisper, voice weak. “But I’m okay.”
Myles makes a wrecked, broken sound, like something's ripping out of his chest.
Sliding his arms under me so carefully, I almost don't feel it, he pulls me into his chest like I'm the only thing left in the world.
“It’s ok. I’m here now,” his voice shakes, tortured. “I got you, Ivy. I got you...”
He lifts me as he stands, gentle but sure. His arms wrapped around me, strong and trembling all at once.
My heart cracks seeing this new side of him. I could drown in this kind of devotion.
Leaning into his chest, I bury my face into him, suddenly sobbing. I feel every beat of his heart like it's my own. He trembles against me, whispering my name like a prayer, like an apology. As if he might die if he stops saying it.
I’ve lived through so much worse but seeing his reaction is my undoing. I can’t stop the tears pouring out of me as a lost part of me takes it’s first step into the light.
Myles carries me upstairs, away from the blood. Away from the bodies. From the fragmented front door.
“I'm here,” he says. “I'm here. You're safe now. Nobody's gonna touch you again.”
We enter his room, and he lays me on the bed so gently I want to cry all over again. I want to apologise and beg him not to leave me. But I can’t speak through the sobs that wrack my body.
Kneeling beside the bed, he wipes the sweat and blood from my skin with his rough hands, checking every inch of me.
His hands tremble violently as he wipes the blood from between my legs. His face contorts into something I’ve never seen there, eyes shining with rage and grief.
“I should’ve been there,” he whispers. “I never should’ve left you. I never would’ve let them touch you… I’m so sorry, Ivy,” he chokes on a sob. “I swear to God, Ivy… I'll kill a hundred more if anyone ever tries again.”
My eyes search his gorgeous face as he inspects me for harm and a warm glow of light dances across his sharp, blood splattered features. He looks angelic. Like an untamed, sanguinary angel of death.
His hand shakes as he lifts it to my face, trailing his fingers and pressing in certain places. I gasp in pain, and he flinches back, his body going rigid.
Something warm and wet soaks into my shirt. I look down to see his arm dripping blood on me.
“Myles, your arm! Let me—"
“It’s nothing, Ivy. You’re more important,” he cuts me off and stands. “I'll clean you up. I'll fix it… just stay here. Please.”
I’ve never heard Myles use the word ‘please’, let alone with such a broken tone. But I catch his wrist. “Myles, stop. I’m okay, really. Let me have a look at this”
My eyes find his, wild and wounded, and I finally see it…
The truth in him.
He killed for me. This violent, furious, broken man would tear the sky down just to keep my heartbeat going. He would sacrifice his own safety and even his life… for me.
He kneels again and holds out his arm like a soldier surrendering his weapon. I pull on my torn shirt until I get a strip free and wrap it firmly over the deep wound.
My chest slowly unclenches in waves as I rip another piece of my shirt, repeating the bind and watching for the bleeding to stop.
Exhaling my relief, I feel a smile lift my cheeks and look up at him to find him watching me with a heartbroken expression.
I reach out, grabbing his shirt and I drag him down until our foreheads touch. “Myles,” I breathe.
He flinches like my voice is the only thing that can cut him deeper than what just happened. But he doesn't pull away.
Something in him shatters and he relaxes into the hold. His hands gently slide into my hair like the contact is keeping him breathing.
“I thought they had you. I thought… I thought I was too late and they…” his words cut off with a gasp. “Ivy, your head!” His fingers slide cautiously over a large lump swelling on the back of my skull. “Fuck… no. I can't lose you.”
“It’s just a bump. I’m not dying,” I brush his hands away from the painful swelling. “I’ll be fine, Myles. I’m here. I’m okay. You came for me, Myles. You… you saved me.”
The reality that I was never hoping to be saved, hits me like a landslide. Hope was a luxury I could never afford.
My heart breaks for the years I lived without believing there was any other life for me. Anything different than abuse, fear and pain. No one was ever coming to save me.
But he came.
His brow dips and he exhales a short breath. “Of course I did. You're mine.”
Something inside me breaks wide open.
And God help me, I want that. I want him. All of him—the blood, the rage, the ruin.
To be his.