Then Declan Hawthorne.
Six-foot-three. Dark brown hair with auburn highlights. Piercing green eyes. Right arm covered in a hockey-themed sleeve tattoo.
I turn the laptop toward Sloane, my hand shaking so badly I almost drop it.
"Is this him? Is this King?"
She leans forward, squinting at the screen. Her face goes pale.
"Ivy. That's... yeah. That's him. Your Declan is the guy who gave me your phone and said his name was King."
The laptop slides from my grip onto the couch cushion.
“I should have asked to see him. To check him out and make sure he’s legit,” she says weakly. “I just thought that since you were having such a wonderful relationship, I shouldn’t butt in.”
But I’m not listening to her. Everything has clicked into place with brutal clarity.
King appeared the day I met Declan. I probably left my phone in that therapy room where he was lying naked, smirking at me like I was a game to be won. Not outside the facility like he claimed.
He took my phone. Called Sloane. Invented an entire persona to text me, to get close to me, to learn my secrets while I thought I was confiding in a stranger.
Every vulnerable moment. Every confession about feeling invisible, inadequate, scared. Every time I told King things I couldn't tell anyone else.
I was talking to Declan.
Always Declan.
He watched me fall for King while pursuing me as himself. Watched me struggle between two men who were the same person and let me tear myself apart trying to choose.
"Ivy?" Sloane's voice sounds far away. "Are you okay?"
I'm not okay. I'm hurting.
Rage flares in me. Sharp. Hot. All-consuming. My hands curl into fists, nails biting into my palms hard enough to hurt.
He played me. For weeks, he played me like I was nothing more than a puzzle to solve, a challenge to conquer.
I grab my phone, open the messages to King. My fingers fly across the keyboard, typing six words that feel like throwing a grenade.
Ivy:
I know who you are, Declan.
I hit send.
To hell with him!
24
DECLAN
The Price of Truth
The text to King arrives while I'm in the weight room, mid-rep on the bench press.
Ivy:
I know who you are, Declan.
