Victor’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 night was quiet, but I couldn’t sleep.The sheets were tangled around us, Ivy’s bare body soft and warm against mine, her breathing steady with the deep rhythm of dreams. The moonlight leaking through the curtains touched her face like silver, painting her skin with a glow that made her look unreal, like she belonged to some world better than this one.And yet here she was. In my bed. In my arms.I’d spent years building myself into a fortress, a man untouched by sentiment. Love was a word I’d never trusted, too fragile, too dangerous. I’d seen what it did to men. it made them weak, reckless, willing to bleed themselves dry for a woman who could still turn and walk away. I had sworn I would never let that be me.And also, I have never truly felt love, to closest I ever felt was Mrs B and it was motherly. I grew up with a mother who never stood up against her husband for me and in a home where there is no love between me and my brother. Robert have always considered me below Victor
The room was still humming from the venom of Robert Wolfe’s voice, the cold steel of his threat lingering in the air long after the burner phone went dead. I could still hear his words echoing, sharp as glass. Return Ivy. She is not yours to keep.But it wasn’t Robert’s cruelty that gripped me. It was Killian’s response.He hadn’t faltered. He hadn’t bartered me like some item of leverage. He hadn’t hesitated to cut his step father’s script into shreds with a voice that was deep, steady, and absolute: She isn’t a bargaining chip. She stays with me. She chose. She isn’t something you get to take back.Chosen.The word replayed in my chest like a heartbeat. He didn’t just say it to them. He said it to me, too. Out loud. In front of the shadow that had always tried to reduce me to a pawn, Killian had stood like a wall and declared me his equal.I didn’t know what burned hotter, my anger at Robert’s attempt to erase me, or the ache curling low in my body, sharp and sudden, when Killian ref
The burner buzzed against the table, its screen lighting up in the dim safe house.Killian froze.Ivy, curled beneath the blanket on the worn couch, stirred. Her eyes opened, bleary with half sleep, but instantly sharp. They both knew that sound meant trouble, no one had this number unless the Wolfe.Killian let it ring once more before picking up. He didn’t say hello, only waited. Silence stretched, then a familiar voice slid down the line like oil.“Killian,” Robert Wolfe said, calm as ever. “You’ve made quite the spectacle.”Ivy’s hand clutched the blanket tighter.Killian leaned back in his chair, his tone measured, flat. “You called me to waste my time?”Robert chuckled softly. “I called because, unlike my son, I am a man who understands strategy. You’ve put yourself in a position that can only end one of two ways. Return what isn’t yours, and perhaps I’ll consider showing you a measure of mercy.”Killian’s jaw flexed. “Mercy,” he repeated, like the word itself amused him.“Yes.”
Chapter 122 – The Morning Lies(Ivy’s POV)Morning comes slow inside the safehouse.I wake with sunlight cutting in through the blinds, thin golden lines painting across the sheets. For the first time in what feels like forever, my body isn’t braced for a door to slam, a command to bark, or footsteps to drag me back into submission. The silence here is different, it doesn’t cage me, it frees me.I lie still, just breathing. The mattress is firm, the air faint with dust and the scent of old wood, but it feels safer than silk sheets in the Wolfe mansion ever did. Beside me, Killian moves, his arm brushing against me as he shifts awake. He doesn’t speak at first, he rarely does in the mornings. His presence is enough, steady, grounding, the kind of constant I’ve longed for without even realizing it.For a fleeting moment, I let myself believe I’m free.But the world has sharp ways of reminding me that freedom never comes without a price.The muted glow of a small television in the corner
Night fell heavy over the Wolfe mansion, but the glow from the long dining table carried no warmth. The Lancasters sat stiff on one side, the Wolfes opposite, the two families bound by an alliance that now threatened to unravel under the weight of whispers and speculation.The wedding that should have been celebrated today had dissolved into scandal. Outside, the media spun wild tales: that Ivy had run away, that ivy is unwilling to marry Victor Wolfe, that Victor had been betrayed in front of the world, that Victor might be an asshole not a Prince Charming like everyone thinks. Inside, the truth was messier, and far more dangerous.Robert Wolfe poured himself a glass of wine with unhurried calm, his silver hair catching the light. “We cannot allow the world to think the Wolfes have been slighted. Appearances are everything. A statement must go out before midnight.”Victor shifted in his chair, eyes sunken, jaw tight. “The statement should make one thing clear, Killian abducted Ivy. He
Chapter 120 – A Fragile FreedomThe walls of the safe house hum with silence. Not the kind that feels oppressive, but the kind that teases me with a taste of freedom I’m not sure I’ll ever fully have yet. For the first time in what feels like forever, I can breathe without victor’s shadow crawling across my skin. There are no locked doors here, no eyes watching every step, no whispers of disobedience waiting to be punished.Here, the air smells of dust and paper, the faint musk of old wood, and Killian’s cologne lingering in the fabric of the room. Here, I am not caged. And yet, I am not free either.But I like this freedom. Freedom is a strange thing, fragile, fleeting. I can feel it brushing against me like a breeze through an open window, but just as quickly, it threatens to slip away. Victor and his father are out there, plotting, waiting. Victor doesn’t let go of what he thinks belongs to him. He never has.I sit curled up on the couch, notebook abandoned in my lap. My thoughts