I couldn’t think.
Not after that.
Not after Killian Wolfe.
I stood in front of the room mirror, makeup smudged, neck kissed raw, thighs aching with the memory of him, and my own shame. My dress was crumpled on the chair. My panties torn. And in my purse sat the engagement ring Victor had slipped onto my finger just days ago.
I stared at it like it might vanish if I blinked.
It didn’t.
And I didn’t cry.
I just breathed.
In. Out.
Ivy Lancaster. Fiancée to Victor Wolfe. Future wife to a man I barely liked, let alone loved.
And I’d just let his older brother do unspeakable things to me against a leather couch in a room I shouldn’t have entered.
What kind of woman does that?
The kind who’s drowning.
The kind who mistakes lust for escape.
The kind who doesn’t realize the devil wears her fiancé’s last name.
Killian was already gone. No words. He just left. Just a memory of heat and hunger that hadn’t faded from my skin. I should’ve been relieved. I should’ve taken the shame and shoved it down deep.
But I couldn’t stop thinking about his mouth.
His hands.
The way he looked at me like I belonged to him, before he knew I already belonged to someone else.
I took the longest shower of my life.
Still didn’t feel clean.
The engagement dinner was set for eight. I had less than an hour to put on the face of the perfect fiancée. The obedient daughter. A perfect act that Victor wouldn’t suspect a thing.
And Killian… maybe he wouldn’t say a word.
Maybe we could both pretend.
I arrived at the estate a little after seven. Had to rush back to my apartment, change into the dress I picked out a week earlier.
My mother beamed like I was walking toward a future, not a trap. My father didn’t even look up from his drink. And Victor, beautiful, boring Victor, kissed my cheek with the same cold distance he always did.
But then I saw him.
Killian.
Standing across the room, tall and unreadable in a tailored black suit. The same eyes. The same lips. The same man who’d had me screaming his name just an hour ago.
And now he stood beside his brother.
My fiancé.
His jaw tightened the second our eyes met. His gaze dropped to my neck. To the faint bruises he left behind. Then rose again with fire.
He looked angry.
Like I was the one who’d done something wrong.
I tore my eyes away.
“I’ve missed you,” Victor said, sliding an arm around my waist.
I forced a smile. “I’ve missed you too.”
Lie.
Victor was safe. Predictable. Powerful in the way all Wolfe men were. But he didn’t make my blood boil. He didn’t make me ache. He didn’t make me forget my own name.
Killian did.
Dinner was a blur.
Laughter. Wine. Empty conversation.
I barely touched my food. Killian didn’t touch his drink.
But he touched me, with his eyes. Every chance he got.
Under the table, Victor’s hand was on my thigh.
Across the table, Killian’s stare was on my lips.
It was poison.
And I drank it.
“You alright?” Victor asked, brushing his thumb across my knuckles.
I nodded quickly. “Yeah. Just tired.”
Lie number two.
I excused myself to the bathroom halfway through dessert. Needed space. Air. A minute to breathe before I drowned.
But the second I stepped into the hallway, a hand grabbed my wrist.
Pulled me.
Shoved me into a side room.
The door slammed shut behind me.
It was him.
Killian.
His face was stone. His voice a blade. “What the fuck was that?”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re engaged to my fucking brother,” he growled. “And you didn’t think to mention that before I had you screaming under me an hour ago?”
“I didn’t know who you were!” I snapped. “You think I would’ve gone anywhere near you if I did?”
He stepped closer.
Too close.
“Then why didn’t you stop me?”
“I didn’t know until after,” I whispered. “Neither did you.”
Silence.
Heavy.
Charged.
“You looked me in the eye and begged me to fuck you,” he said, voice like gravel. “And I did. Hard. Deep. You let me ruin you.”
I slapped him.
He caught my wrist before I could pull away.
“You don’t get to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not pretending,” I hissed. “I’m regretting it.”
His expression darkened. “Then why do you look at me like you want me to do it again?”
My heart thundered.
My body betrayed me.
Because he was right.
Because I did.
“You’re marrying my brother,” he said lowly, voice thick with something that wasn’t anger this time.
It was hunger.
Possession.
Something dangerous.
I pulled my wrist free, breathing hard. “It was a mistake.”
“No,” he murmured, stepping even closer until my back hit the wall. “It was the beginning.”
I froze.
“What?”
He leaned in. Breath brushing my ear.
“I don’t share, Ivy. And now that I’ve had you, once isn’t fucking enough.”
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