Chapter 29
Chapter twenty-nine
Ivy
All I want to do is crawl under my duvet and disappear for a week.
When I saw Brody last night—beaten to a pulp, high out of his mind, terrified of shadows—I didn’t know what else to do. I was just trying to do the right thing. But I don’t even know what that means anymore.
And as much as I hate to admit it, maybe I never trusted Dane the way I told myself I did.
Maybe I let his father’s “love of his life” comment burrow deeper than I wanted to acknowledge.
Perhaps some part of me was always braced for this—for him to become the ruthless version I first imagined, the one who would grow tired of me and leave me behind without a second thought.
And when he finally did… I think I helped make it happen.
When I step out of the subway, dusk has already surrendered to evening, the sky drained of color and heavy with rain.
Wind funnels down the station stairs and chases me up to street level, cold enough to sting.
The twelve hours I gave Brody are nearly gone, ticking down like something lodged beneath my ribs, and if there’s one thing I can’t stomach right now—not after everything—it’s breaking my own word.
I make the short walk to Jennie’s apartment, each step heavier than the last.
When she opens the door, her eyes go straight to my face. Her expression softens instantly.
“How did it go?” she asks.
I shake my head. That’s all I can manage.
“Oh, Ivy...” She pulls me in for a quick hug, warm and tight, and—for one fleeting second—I almost let myself lean into it, let myself fall apart. But I pull back fast.
“Please don’t say anything to Brody,” I murmur.
Jennie nods, even though worry flickers across her face.
“He’s still here. He... pulled himself together a bit, showered, ate something, and after the article came out, he said he’s ready to hand himself in.
” She pauses. “I told him I’d drive him.
He said I could drive his old truck, the one he uses to haul his equipment around.
It’s parked at his place, so we’ll need to grab it first. ” She is quiet for a moment, a crease forming in her brow.
“Will you come for moral support? Look, I totally understand if you don’t want to. ”
I don’t want to, not after everything today.
But I can’t abandon Jennie, and not when I told Brody I’d make sure he did the right thing.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’ll come.”
A few hours later, we’re winding through the outskirts of the neighborhood, Brody in the passenger seat staring out the window, jaw tight, fingers tapping a frantic rhythm against his thigh.
I sit in the back, seatbelt cutting across my chest, trying to ignore the ache that hasn’t left since I walked out of Dane’s office.
Rain spatters against the windshield, light but persistent, the sky above us is ink-dark, swollen with the promise of more.
“Can we stop for a minute?” Brody asks, breaking the silence. “I just... need to grab some cigarettes.”
Jennie flicks her eyes to the rearview mirror, checking my reaction. I give a small shrug, not trusting myself to say anything out loud.
By the time we pull into the gas station, the rain has thickened into a fine, misty drizzle, the kind that clings to everything and makes the world seem slightly unreal.
“I’ll be right back,” Jennie says, unbuckling and twisting around to look at me. “I’ll grab the cigarettes and some water.”
I nod, forcing a tight smile. Brody doesn’t react at all.
He sinks deeper into his seat, shoulders caving inward, like he’s trying to fold himself out of existence.
He’s barely spoken since we left Jennie’s apartment—not that I expected him to—but Brody was never the kind to suffer quietly. Silence on him feels wrong.
I lean forward slightly, my voice soft. “Hey. Brody. Are you okay?”
At first, he doesn’t respond. His reflection in the fogged window is faint and distorted, bruises blooming dark beneath his eyes, his expression distant, almost ghostlike.
“You’re doing the right thing, you know.”
Still nothing. But then the muscle beneath his eye twitches. He draws in a slow, deliberate breath, the kind you take when you’re bracing yourself for something painful.
“It rained that day too,” he says quietly. “Seems... fitting.” His mouth curves, but there’s no humor in it. “I thought today would be the day my life ends. But it really ended the night I got into that car.”
My lungs draw tight. “Things can still get better, Brody,” I say, even as doubt gnaws at me. “This is rock bottom, but it won’t stay like this. We’re on our way to try and fix it. Going to the police is the right choice.”
A bitter, almost tender smile ghosts across his lips.
“The right choice,” he repeats, like he’s rolling the words on his tongue and finding them meaningless. Then, without looking at me, he reaches out and slams his hand down on the central lock. A soft, decisive click echoes through the car.
My stomach drops so hard it feels like freefall.
I freeze. “Brody, why did you do that?”
He finally turns, and the look he gives me knocks the air out of my chest. It isn’t rage or wildness; it’s grief so dense it’s turning inward, collapsing in from the inside.
“We can end this now,” he murmurs. “Together. Before it gets worse.”
Then he grabs the keys from the cupholder and jumps into the driver’s seat.
“Brody—don’t.”
But he’s already shifting into drive.
The car jolts forward so suddenly I smack into the seat.
“brODY! Stop!” I shout, grabbing the back of his seat. “What are you doing? Jennie’s still inside—she—she’ll panic!”
“She’s strong,” he croaks. “She’ll survive. I won’t.”
He floors the gas.
The tires shriek against the wet asphalt as we rocket out of the parking lot, the city outside dissolving into streaks of rain, headlights, and distorted reflections. The engine roars, the speedometer needle climbing faster than my brain can keep up with.
“Brody, slow down,” I plead, my voice shaking now. “Just talk to me. Please. We can turn back. We can figure this out together.”
He lets out a soft, broken laugh. “It’s too late for that, Ivy.”
“It’s not,” I insist. “I promise you it’s not.”
“You know, when I came back, Ivy, I thought maybe I could finally move on. Put everything behind me. But then he came into your life, and I knew it was over. The universe’s sick way of punishing me.
I took away his happiness, so he got to keep mine.
And the way he ripped you off me in Vice, the look in his eyes, I could see then that there was no way he was ever letting you go. ”
Rain pounds the windshield; the wipers smearing more than cleaning. Streetlights flash by too fast, each one a blink of white.
“I can’t face what’s waiting for me,” he says, his grip tightening on the wheel. “You know what they’ll do to me.”
“Brody,” I whisper, fear curling into my throat, “please. You’re scaring me.”
“Just listen,” he says, a strange calm in his tone. “We could make it quick. Peaceful. Just...stop fighting it.”
A tremor shivers down my spine.
“No,” I say, voice cracking. “No, Brody, I don’t - please, I don’t want this.”
“You think I can survive prison?” His voice rises. “You think they won’t kill me in there?”
The car swerves violently, hydroplaning for a split second before he jerks the wheel back into control. My scream tears out of me before I can stop it.
“Okay,” I blurt, desperation flooding my words. “We don’t have to do anything right now. Just pull over, please. Let’s just stop and breathe.”
“There’s only one step left.”
The car surges forward as he floors it.
“Brody!” I cry out.
Buildings smudge. Horns blare. He weaves through lanes with a terrifying, deliberate clarity—like he’s made peace with something I haven’t.
“Please,” I say, my voice coming apart. “Think of Sloane and Elsie. They won’t recover if something happens to us. And Jennie loves you, Brody. She will break.”
The words hang between us, raw and exposed.
For a moment, the car doesn’t seem quite so out of control. His foot eases, just slightly, and the engine drops into a lower, steadier hum. His shoulders tense, then sag, as if something inside him has finally buckled.
“You remember the zoo?” he asks suddenly. His voice is quieter now. Frayed. “When we took Elsie.”
The question has tears pooling in my eyes.
“Yes,” I whisper. “Of course I do.”
He keeps his eyes on the road, but they’ve gone unfocused, like he’s no longer seeing what’s in front of him. “She wouldn’t let go of my hand,” he says. “Not even to look at the map. Just dragged me everywhere like she was afraid I’d disappear if she didn’t.”
Tears cloud my vision. “She adored you.”
A breath stutters out of him. “She stood in front of the penguins forever,” he goes on. “Kept saying it wasn’t fair. That they had wings but couldn’t fly—like the world had tricked them.”
I nod, choking on the words. “You bought her the keyring. The little penguin with the blue scarf. She still has it, Brody.”
His fingers tighten around the steering wheel, then loosen. For a heartbeat, the car drifts—enough to make my stomach lurch—before he corrects it.
“I thought,” he says hoarsely, “if I could be that man again... the one she trusted like that... maybe I wouldn’t be such a mess.”
“You can be,” I say, leaning forward, desperation clawing up my throat. “You still can. Please. I don’t want to die.”
The rain lashes harder against the windshield; the wipers struggling to keep up.
Something closes off inside him.
His jaw sets. His grip tightens.
The engine roars as he presses down on the accelerator, the road ahead opening into a long, dark stretch, trees bending violently in the wind.
“No—” I sob, panic crashing over me as I claw at the door handle even though I know it’s locked. “Please, Brody.”
He doesn’t hear me, or he chooses not to.
Rain strikes the windshield in sheets now, turning everything into streaked glass and vibrating shadows. The tires hit a patch of water, and the car fishtails. He yanks the wheel to straighten it, too fast and too hard.
The tires shriek.
The front of the car slams sideways—an explosion of force—my body thrown hard against the door, air ripped from my lungs. Glass shatters. The world turns jagged, white, and violent.
Something hits my head.
Light bursts.
Then—nothing.
Just black.