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 hisbreath.
“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 didthatto 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, Ihear 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 naïve that was.
