LOGINVictor’s arm was heavy around me, an anchor I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to. His breath was steady, calm, completely unaware of the storm raging inside me.
But I couldn’t pretend any longer. Not with the raw memory of Killian still searing in my mind, burning into my skin.
I lay still, my body betraying me, aching for something that had no place in my life. Not when I was supposed to be Victor’s.
But everything about tonight felt like a lie. From the engagement ring on my finger to the gentle press of Victor’s lips on my shoulder, nothing felt right.
And then I remembered Killian. His face. His eyes dark with desire. His mouth. God, his mouth.
I felt the heat rush through my body again, as though I could still feel the press of his lips, the fierce grip of his hands, the savage way he’d taken me.
I needed to stop thinking about him.
But the more I tried, the more my body betrayed me. The pulse between my legs throbbed, reminding me of what I’d lost control of. What I’d given control to.
Slowly, quietly, I pulled away from Victor’s embrace and slipped out of the bed. The cool air hit my bare skin as I made my way toward the bathroom, desperate to splash some water on my face, to wash away the desire that clung to me like a second skin.
I looked at myself in the mirror, my lips bruised, my neck marked with the evidence of Killian’s hunger. I wiped away the dampness on my face, but nothing felt clean. Not anymore.
I knew what I had to do. I had to act like everything was fine. I couldn’t let Victor see the wreck I had become inside. I wasn’t allowed to.
I returned to the room and climbed back into bed beside Victor, trying to hide my unease. His arm draped over me again, and I stiffened beneath the weight. His lips brushed the back of my neck, but I couldn’t push away the memories of Killian’s kiss.
“Ivy?” Victor murmured, his voice thick with sleep.
“Yeah?” I forced a smile, trying to sound convincing.
“You’re quiet tonight,” he said, his hand slipping beneath the sheets to rest on my hip. “Everything okay?”
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just tired. Long day.”
He didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t press further. His hand slid down my body, slipping between my thighs. My stomach flipped in a way I didn’t expect. This isn’t right, I thought. But it was Victor’s touch, steady and sure, nothing like the desperate, raw craving I had felt earlier.
I should’ve stopped him.
But I couldn’t.
When his fingers slid against me, I froze. The desire I felt for Killian rushed back at once, making it impossible to ignore. But I wasn’t ready. Not now. Not with Victor.
“I’m not feeling well,” I blurted, pushing his hand away gently. “Headache. Just… tired.”
Victor paused, his fingers still hovering near me, his expression unreadable. “Alright,” he muttered. “We can just sleep then.”
I nodded, forcing my body to relax as his arm wrapped around me again, pulling me close. I breathed deeply, counting each second until I could escape. I had to.
****
The house was quiet, but I wasn’t ready to face it. Not tonight.
I waited until Victor’s breathing deepened, before slipping out of bed and padding toward the door. I needed air. I needed to breathe.
The cool night air hit my skin as I stepped outside. The tension between my legs, the ache in my body, gnawed at me, but the garden was empty. Or so I thought.
There, near the stone wall, stood Killian.
I didn’t need to see him to feel the tension in the air. It hit me like a wave, making my heart race and my breath catch in my throat. I should turn away. Should go back inside. But I couldn’t.
His dark eyes found mine immediately, and I felt a pull, like gravity itself had shifted.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tremor in my chest gave me away.
He didn’t answer immediately. He simply watched me with those predatory eyes, his gaze trailing over my body, lingering just a little too long on the marks he’d left on me earlier.
“Your parents asked me to stay the night,” he said, voice low, almost mocking. “They don’t want me driving back at that hour. It was late.”
I clenched my fists at my sides. “Why didn’t you say anything inside?”
Killian took a step forward, his body impossibly close, until the heat of him seemed to press against me. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”
His lips curved into a smirk, but it was his eyes, dark and filled with desire, that had me frozen in place. I tried to move back, but there was nowhere to go. The garden wall stopped me.
Killian leaned in, his breath hot against my ear, his voice a whispered threat. “I see the way you look at me, Ivy. You can lie all you want, but I know what you really want.”
“No,” I whispered, but the word didn’t have the strength I wanted it to. “You… can’t. This is wrong.”
He laughed, a low, sinful sound that made my insides tighten. “It’s too late for that, sweetheart. You can pretend all you want, but you know as well as I do that this was never about right or wrong. This is about us.”
His mouth found my neck again, his lips brushing over my skin as his hands roamed down to my waist. I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. All I could feel was him, his hands on me, his lips burning every inch of me.
I didn’t fight him this time. I couldn’t.
Before I knew it, his mouth claimed mine, hot and demanding, and I was lost.
I let him kiss me, let him claim me again. His tongue slid into my mouth, deep and possessive. And when his hands slid beneath my dress, pulling it up, lifting me against him, all I could do was moan in response.
“Ivy,” he growled, his lips parting from mine, eyes dark with something savage. “You’re mine.”
“No,” I gasped, but my hands found his chest, pulling him closer, my body arching into him, betraying me.
“Yes,” he snarled. “You’ve been mine since the moment I touched you.”
And with that, he pulled me fully against him, his hands lifting my dress higher, his fingers working quickly, desperately.
And I let him. I let him make me his again.
The hallway outside Victor’s wing smelled of liquor before Robert even reached the door.Not surprising. Not disappointing.Simply expected.He did not knock. He opened the door and stepped inside.The room was dim, curtains drawn, clothes on the floor, the faint blue glow of a TV screen left running without sound. Victor sat slouched on the edge of the bed, one hand wrapped around a half empty bottle of whiskey, his hair a mess, eyes glassy and unfocused.The image would have bothered most fathers.Robert was not most fathers.He closed the door behind him. “Stand up.”Victor blinked slowly. Confusion, then something like irritation crossed his face. “Dad?”“Stand,” Robert repeated.Victor tried. He got halfway to his feet before his balance wavered and he sat back down, bottle clinking against the floor. He laughed once, humorless. “I’m fine.”“You’re intoxicated,” Robert said. Not an insult, just a fact. “And we do not have time for you to sober up.”Victor rubbed both hands over hi
The storm had only grown heavier, the wind pushing against the windows as though the world itself was warning him to stop. Return. Rethink.He didn’t.Killian stepped through the door of the safe house, the air inside warm in contrast to the cold rain that clung to him like a second skin. The lights were dim, quiet, the place too still. Too watchful.Ivy sat on the couch, waiting.Not pacing.Not anxious.Just waiting, like someone who had already made a decision.She looked up at him, eyes calm in a way that unsettled him more than fear ever could.“You came back early,” she said softly.Killian nodded once. He didn’t speak yet. He was still carrying the adrenaline of the call, the confirmation, the reality that the next hours would either save a man or end everything.He closed the door. Locked it.Then spoke.“I came to move you,” he said. “We’re switching locations. You’re not staying here.”Ivy didn’t flinch. “Where?”“Another house. More secure,” he replied. “Away from this. Away
The safe house was quiet in a way that didn’t feel peaceful.Not empty. Not abandoned.Just quiet in the way a heart becomes quiet after too much has happened and too much is still waiting to happen.Ivy stood where Killian had left her, her hand still resting on the doorframe even though he was long gone. It had been only minutes, but it felt longer. The echo of his departure clung to the air like smoke, warm, heavy, something that stayed in the lungs even after the source was gone.His voice still played in her head. "I’ll be back." A promise, said softly against her lips.She had nodded. She had held his face in her hands. She had looked him in the eyes like she believed him.But deep in her chest, beneath bone and memory, she knew something else:He was walking into something larger than both of them.Not fate.Not destiny.History.And history is never gentle.She crossed the living room slowly, as though the air itself was thick. Rain tapped against the windows at first like fin
The night pressed in like smoke, heavy, suffocating, and too still for comfort. Killian sat alone in the dim study, the low hum of the city outside swallowed by the storm that was breaking somewhere beyond the glass. His phone screen still glowed faintly with the call from his mother.Her voice lingered in his head. “Be careful, Killian… please.”He’d promised her he would be.But he knew promises like that didn’t belong in his world.Killian’s hand tightened around the phone until his knuckles turned white. He replayed every word Elena had said, every tremor in her voice, every pause that sounded more like fear than uncertainty.The location she mentioned.The file she “accidentally” found.A remote property, off the coast, long abandoned, supposedly under restoration by one of Robert’s companies.He could feel it in his gut.This was it.He rose from his seat and crossed to the side table, unlocking the small drawer beneath it. Inside lay the secure satellite phone, one that couldn’t
The rain hadn’t stopped since she left Robert’s study. It followed her back to her room like a ghost that refused to let go. Droplets slid down the wide glass panes, blurring the garden lights into trembling orbs. The house was quiet, heavy, as though it was listening.Elena sat at the edge of her bed, her mind racing with the information she just find. The words had burrowed into her chest like a heartbeat she couldn’t silence.She closed her eyes. Killian Jackson.She hadn’t spoken that name aloud in years. She could still see him, the man who once loved her before everything became politics and promises, before Robert Wolfe and the web he built around her life. Killian’s father. The man who’d disappeared from the world but never fully from her memory.Now, she had seen it, a trace, a location, a possibility. And the thought that her son, their son, might finally find answers stirred something reckless inside her.She reached for her phone, her hand trembling slightly.For a long mo
The estate itself was quiet, almost reverent, as Elena arrived in Robert’s study.Robert was already there, the large room filled with papers, folders, and carefully arranged documents. Every item, every sheet of paper, had been placed with intention.He moved deliberately, walking to the window to observe the rain over the city, leaving the desk, and the bait, within her reach.A single folder lay there, innocuous at first glance. Its edges were crisp, its cover unremarkable, but it contained precisely what he wanted her to see, a file that suggested the location of Killian’s biological father, a secret he had guarded for over three decades.He knew the moment Elena discovered it, she would tell Killian. And in doing so, she would unknowingly lead both Killian and Ivy directly into his trap.Robert allowed himself a moment to savor the inevitability. Every movement, every decision had been calculated. Elena would act as a messenger without realizing it. Killian, driven by curiosity, l







