Chapter 41
Phoenix
Gravel chews at our boots as we make our way back to the station. The silence between us is a welcome reprieve from the recent chaos.
As we round the corner to the main street, the police station finally comes into view.
Myles stalks beside me, skull mask covering his scowl, still keyed up from stringing up the three bodies he took out earlier.
We hung them next to the others that Zane and I decorated our perimeter with like a garland. Some hung by their feet, others by their neck. Each one a warning.
Fear is cheaper than ammo.
They shouldn’t have been able to get the drop on us. For years, we’ve had this town rigged with explosives, traps and even bells… because occasionally we enjoy getting our hands dirty.
But we’ve been distracted since we took in our little stray.
Even now, Myles and I are powering through the street to get back to her. Fresh blood seeps through the bandage on his arm—her work, so he wouldn’t let me fix it.
My thoughts keep circling back to Ivy.
I knew the situation she escaped was bad. But I didn’t think the cult would be stupid enough to raid us like that.
Myles wants blood now, but I’ve ordered rest. We need a plan first.
Our group is fraying. I saw it coming from the start. One woman walks in and every system goes belly up.
But it’s more than that. I’m worried about Zane. I just hope that whatever the fuck is going on with him, Ivy can reach him. They got close over the last month.
He’s torturing himself over his past, thinking he doesn’t deserve her, but I see the way she looks at him.
Pushing through the front door, Myles and I make our way down the hall to the showers. Passing the kitchen, something catches my eye.
Zane’s silhouette stands at the fridge. He’s shirtless as usual but something’s off. I stop dead in my tracks.
Sweat glistens on his skin as he leans in and grabs a water bottle.
Then I notice the fresh claw marks down his back, too faint to be from anything but feminine nails. A pink curved line of a bite on his shoulder. Combat pants unbuttoned and hanging low on his hips. Dark hair ruffled with grooves only dainty fingers could make.
He moves slow, muscles loose. In the kind of relaxed haze that only comes after you empty yourself into someone.
The room narrows and ice floods my veins. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” I snarl.
Zane freezes, water bottle in hand. Then turns slowly like he’s buying himself seconds to figure out if lying would make this worse.
Myles strides past me, eyes locked on Zane. “Are you fucking serious?!” he shouts, voice already climbing. “In my bed?”
“Don't,” I warn, stepping in before Myles gets within swinging distance.
The look on his face says he’ll break Zane’s jaw, and part of me wants that. Part of me wants to beat Zane’s ass myself.
But I can’t let that happen. Not when we’re gearing up for war.
Myles is breathing like a bull ready to charge, fists twitching at his sides.
Gritting my teeth, I turn back to Zane. “You fucked her?” The words come out controlled. But they taste like blood.
Zane hesitates. “Yeah,” he admits, voice tense.
And that one syllable feels like a blade between my ribs. Because Ivy is hurt.
She flinched this afternoon when I tried to check her face for fractures. She refused to eat anything solid because of the pain.
And Zane took one look and decided this was the perfect time to fuck her.
“In my fucking bed!” Myles scoffs, louder now. “Of all the goddamn places! You fuck my woman… in my own fucking bed!?”
Zane meets his glare. “She was already in it. I didn't put her there,” he grinds out.
“But you sure as hell left your mark on it,” Myles growls, stepping closer. “You think you're the hero now, huh? Ride out with Phoenix for a few hours and come home like you’re the one who saved her.”
I don’t care about the bed. I don’t care about the goddamn hero act. All I see is her.
Ivy. Bruised. Trembling. Crying.
“It wasn’t planned! But she wanted it,” Zane's voice cuts through the tension like a taut wire ready to snap. “She begged.”
And fuck me—I hate how easy it is to believe that. I’ve seen how sweet her begging is… fell for it myself. But I’d have enough sense not to touch her while she’s injured.
“Congratulations. You let a broken girl beg her way into a bigger mess. You think that makes it better?” I deadpan.
“No.” His jaw works as he rakes a hand through his hair. “I didn't go in there for that. I went to tell her the truth. About… about what I did. I needed her to hear it. To hate me, if that's what it meant.”
“And what?” I bite, voice sharp. “She forgave you and spread her fucking legs?”
Something dark flickers in his eyes. “Don't talk about her like that,” he growls. “She asked me to, okay. I was gentle. I was careful. You weren't there. She wanted it.”
“Oh, she wanted it?” I echo, voice mocking. “Did she want it last night too, Zane? Did she even have her eyes open this time?”
Myles steps up beside me, snarling. “What the fuck?”
Ignoring him, I fold my arms and wait for whatever pitiful excuse Zane has.
His gaze drops and I see a tremor run through him.
Good. He needs a fucking wake up call.
“Did she ask for a concussion and a black eye today as well… or did you just decide your dick could fix that for her?” I scoffed.
The words hang there, heavy and poisonous.
Something old and vicious uncoils in me. Something I thought I'd buried under layers of logic and distance.
I guess I was wrong.
“You should have waited,” I grind out, eyes locked on Zane. “She's in pain. You really thought now was the time?”
Zane’s lips purse. He looks away for half a second, guilt flashing across his face.
But when his gaze returns, it’s hard again. “She told me to,” he grumbles. “She said she wanted it, even if it hurt. I didn't push her.”
“You didn't stop her either,” Myles snaps. “You didn't think she might say that because she wants us all happy? That maybe she was feeling lost because you’ve been an asshole all day?”
Zane squares his shoulders and meets both of our stares head-on. “She knew what she wanted. And tonight, she wanted me.”
“You're so full of shit,” Myles laughs bitterly.
Ignoring Myles, I charge forward, stopping an inch from Zane's face. “She’s injured, Zane! What the hell is wrong with you? You're twice her fucking size.”
His jaw tightens. But for a second, just a second, I see the crack in his armour. The guilt. The fear.
“She begged me,” he says again, softer now, like he’s trying to convince himself this time. “I was careful.”
I laugh coldly. “You keep telling yourself that. Maybe if you say it enough, you'll start to believe it.”
Zane’s silence confirms what I already know. Myles laughs, broken and hollow. One more fucking word from Zane and I’ll let them kill each other.
Before any of us can say another word, light footsteps creak on the stairs.
Our heads snap toward them in unison.
Everything tilts the moment we see her. Gravity, logic—gone.
Ivy stands on the bottom step, one hand gripping the railing tightly. Swimming in Myles’s shirt, her bare legs stretch long beneath the hem. Her face is battered, lip split, cheekbone purple.
“Please don’t fight,” she pleads, voice soft but sure. “Zane’s telling the truth. Don’t blame him.”
Myles’s mouth opens to argue. I shoot him a glare, and he mutters whatever it was under his breath.
“I heard you yelling,” she admits, voice hoarse but calm. Her knees wobble on the next step, and my stomach drops.
She should be resting.
Zane steps forward instinctively, but she lifts a hand, stopping him.
Ivy keeps going and my chest tightens. She's fucking limping.
“Jesus, Ivy…” I start toward her without thinking, but she raises that hand again, firmer this time.
“I'm fine,” she scolds. “I can walk.”
I blink back my surprise. If she wasn’t injured, I’d bend her over my knee for speaking to me like that.
“He didn't take advantage of me,” she starts, looking at Zane with a softness in her eyes. “If anything, I pushed him. So if you’re going to be mad at anyone, be mad at me.”
She doesn’t know what she’s asking for. Biting down my frustration, I exhale hard.
Myles scoffs, loud and bitter, then storms forward. “So, what? You just forgot I carried you to that bed? That I killed the men who did that to you.” He gestures to her bruised face.
“Myles,” I warn, voice a low rumble.
But he doesn't stop. “Is this some kind of game to you?” he sneers. “You just move from one of us to the next? You gonna pick a favourite, Ivy? Or have us fight to the death?”
She opens her mouth, then closes it, chin trembling, her nostrils flare.
Immediately my anger is redirected to Myles.
Until I realise why she can’t respond.
It hits me like a bullet to the chest.
She doesn’t want to choose.
Her eyes flick between the three of us, pleading, ashamed, but still burning with something I don't have a name for.
Stepping in before either of them can say another word, I hear the bitterness in my own voice before I can swallow it down. “That's what this is, isn't it?” I look between them, then at her. “You want all of us.”
She doesn't respond, just chews on her lip as her gaze drops.
“Fuck,” I breathe, rubbing a hand over my face and turning back to the boys. “If we fracture, the cult will overpower us. They’ll take her, and leave us to rot. The only way she stays alive is with us. The only way forward is… sharing her.”
The words taste like ash. But I know none of us are walking away from her.
I thought keeping her at arm's length would keep me sane. Keep us functional. But I see now how na?ve that was.
Zane’s jaw clenches like he knew this was coming all along.
Myles is staring at me like I've lost my damn mind. “You’ve got to be fucking joking.” he scoffs. “So what then? We pass her around? Take turns in shifts? Might as well just tag team her, right now.”
My voice cuts in, low and steady. “We'll figure it out… for her.”
I hate that I don't have a better answer right now.
Looking at her again, my chest locks up tight, but I manage to speak. “This isn’t about feelings. It’s about your survival,” I lie.
Her eyes soften, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. As if she knows what I refuse to say.
Sighing heavily, I look at Myles and Zane before I fall any deeper into her eyes. “If we tear each other apart, she loses. She needs us… all of us.”
Myles turns away, seething, but he doesn't argue. Because he sees it too.
She’s not ours. We’re hers.
We're not the kind of men who share anything. Not power. Not space. Sure as hell not a woman.
But we're gonna try.
She looks to us like we're the ones keeping her anchored to the earth.
And we orbit her like she's the only star left in this ruined universe.