SLOAN. When Victor finally left the study, the click of the door reverberated through the quiet leaving an almost palpable chill in its wake. I stood by the bookcase my hand still on the spine of a heavy book about ancient diplomacy. This was ironic because only a few minutes before there had been no such book in the room. My mind was filled with a discordant symphony of Victors words which were piercing and tinged with his typical brand of cynical pragmatism. My choices are final and legally binding. I had spoken with the utmost authority that was expected of me and with conviction. I also thought it was true. Every ounce of my being told me that I was choosing the only sensible course of action for Ivy and the Order. In my own mind however there was a persistent echo a nagging whisper that sounded suspiciously like doubt. I slowly exhaled while running a hand through my hair. The subtle aroma of Victors pricey cigar permeated the air serving as a constant reminder of his unwan
VICTOR. Under my Italian leather shoes, the marble floors of The Order's mansion felt colder than usual each reverberating step a testament to my simmering rage. It was well after midnight when secrets really started to breathe and shadows grew longer. However tonight the darkness was filled with the oppressive weight of Sloan's foolishness rather than any serenity. The staffs quickly ducked out of my way and bowed their heads in quick respect a tacit admission of my attitude. Good. Let them shudder. Maybe a little fear was exactly what this smug establishment required. I went to Sloan's study a haven of old books and dubious choices. I didn't waste my time knocking politely. Being polite was a luxury I couldn't afford when the Orders very foundations were on the line. Pushing the heavy oak door inward I felt a wave of righteous indignation. With a loud thump it opened and Sloan was there as expected standing next to a tall bookcase with a big leather-bound book in his hands. He g
VICTOR Tendrils of smoke curled languidly each wisp bearing a whisper of my growing annoyance. I reclined in my absurdly large custom-made leather chair which was more expensive than some peoples whole yearly salary. My lavish office was usually a haven of calm a hallowed place where plans were conceived and empires were gently prodded. It was heavy today. Almost choked by the utter foolishness of it all. The whispers of course I had heard. Information spread like wildfire in this gilded cage particularly when it concerned Sloan that brash idiot and his most recent entanglement. Ivy. The name itself was as gratingly generic as her presence in the Orders mansion was offensive. I grasped the cigar more tightly. My teeth tightened at the thought. “Bloody imbeciles” I mutteredas I took another long drag. Similar to the raging fire in my stomach the cherry glowed a fiery red. A wild card a loose cannon and now a huge hole in our meticulously crafted secrecy—this was exactly what I had
IVY. Together Sophia and I whirled around, the effortless laughter fading from our throats. Alissa was a fiery-haired immaculately styled figure standing behind us. Her red hair was styled in a sleek severe bun that matched the acerbic tone of her eyes. My stomach turned slightly. The universe decided it was time for more drama just as things were beginning to feel normal. Sophia continued to grasp my hand and gave it a firm squeeze. Both of us braced ourselves for the typical sarcastic jab or vague threat. Alissa had a way of piercing the atmosphere like a poisoned dart. Rather a strange almost pitying smile appeared on her lips. “Well well.” She said, her voice silky smooth but with a hint of coolness that raised the hair on my arms. “I can see that someone is feeling better.” Her eyes moved over me and then back to Sophia's hand which was still in mine. “Alissa” I said attempting to sound neutral despite a sudden wave of defensive protectiveness toward Sophia. Alissa went on
IVY. I decided it was time for a shower after having the most eerie delicious breakfast of my life. Not just any shower though one that would ideally remove any remaining ambiguity and replace it with something close to peace. I tried to unravel the disordered jumble of my feelings as the warm water sluiced over me. Sophia, Sloan and the entire hectic past twenty-four hours. For a brain that still felt like it was running on half power it was a lot to process. When I finally came out a little calmer, I picked out a plain cozy dress from the emergency closet . I inhaled deeply and moved slowly downstairs. In the opulent living room I found Sophia uneasily seated on one of the big armchairs, her frame nearly encased in the luxurious upholstery. She fidgeted with the hem of her dress while bending her head. Any residual fear I had about confronting her was instantly dispelled by the sight. She was just trapped in a situation that was completely unfathomable to her. She looked up the
IVY.My eyes were still obstinately closed when I woke up but the faintest light was coming in through what I thought were thick curtains. I briefly drifted in that blissful transitional state between sleep and wakefulness feeling a strange yet reassuring warmth spread throughout me. Memories from the last night then rushed forward like a dam breaking. Sloan. Kissing. His eyes were full of unvarnished honesty. The irresolute desire that had engulfed me. My eyes opened slowly absorbing the opulent space. It was definitely not the sterile hotel room I had been preparing to escape to nor was it my tiny apartment. It was my room here in the mansion. I bit my lips. There had been no dream. Not a single bit of it thrilling or terrifying. The silken sheets gathered around my waist as I slowly sat up. I was still naked. The events of the night were evident in my attire—or lack thereof. My neck started to flush but it wasn't from embarrassment. Indeed it was. Something else. A glimmer of s