It’s a kick to the ribs. My fists clench until my knuckles crack. I want to argue. We know what’s best for her. She doesn’t need to choose. That she wants to be with me. With us.
But the truth is… I don’t know. We’ve never actually said the words.
“She was a prisoner before we met her, Myles,” Phoenix says, softer now. “She never tried to run from us but that doesn’t mean she chose to be here. She needs to know she can leave.”
Silence chews at me. Because part of me knows he’s right. And the other part — the broken, terrified part — is screaming.
A scrape pulls my gaze. Zane. He’s looking up at us, hands shoved in his pockets as he straightens and walks toward us. His broad shoulders shroud the hallway in shadow as he blocks the doorway and my view of Ivy.
“Myles…” he starts, voice low and steady, “we can’t risk becoming the same as the men we hate. She has to choose us, or it doesn’t mean anything.” His eyes flick to Ivy, then back to me. “I don’t like it either. But the alternative?” He shakes his head once. “Not happening.”
My chest twists.They’re both against me.
“You’re out of your fucking minds. She’s ours. She doesn’t need to choose!” I shout.
Ivy’s gentle voice cuts the air. “What do you meanchoose?”
I freeze, heart pounding.
Zane steps aside revealing Ivy, standing in the doorway, shoulders pulled in as she rubs her arm nervously. Eyes wide, caught between worry and curiosity.
My stomach drops.Fuck.
Phoenix doesn’t say a word. Zane keeps his eyes on the floor. It’s all on me. Fury slams into me. Not at her—for overhearing—but at him. Phoenix. For saying it out loud. For dragging me into thisnow, raw, bleeding, unprepared.
“You weren’t supposed to—” My throat locks up. I swing my glare back to Phoenix, but Ivy steps forward.
“What are you talking about?” she asks again, more urgent this time. There’s a fear creeping into her doe-like eyes that I’ve grown to hate.
It’s cracking my chest open.
Any words I can think of catch in my throat like shards of glass. I can’t look at her. Not when every part of me is screaming to just grab her and hold on.
But then I do, my eyes scanning her face. The soft crease in her brow, eyes flicking back and forth between us.
Zane stays annoyingly calm. “We’ve been talking about leaving. Going somewhere safer.”
Her breath hitches. “Leaving?”
“There’s a ranch,” Phoenix adds. “My family’s place. Remote. Secure. Food. Water. A real home. We want to go there.”
Her brows pinch. And I see it—the shock, the hope, then hesitation. That hesitancy guts me.
“But it’s your choice if you want to come,” Zane offers.
Her chin dimples as her bottom lip trembles. “My choice? What do you mean ‘mychoice’? You said I was yours! I thought you wanted me!” Her voice rises to a trembling shrill.
Something snaps in me. “No. No, it’s not your choice! You’re staying with us. We’re keeping you safe. You don’t need to—”
“Myles,” Phoenix warns, low.
But I can’t stop. Words pour out, ragged and ugly. “We’re not asking you to choose! You’re staying with us. That’s the end of it.”
Ivy steps back, startled, tears sliding down her cheeks.
My lungs squeeze tight. It feels like the foster system all over again. Bags packed overnight, tearing me away from homes. No one ever wanting me. Always waiting for the axe to fall.
I don’t want Ivy to feel that.Idon’t want to feel that.
