Chapter 2

Ivy’s POV

The bass in The Abyss thumped against my chest, matching the frantic rhythm of my heart. The air smelled of expensive scotch, exotic perfume, and bad decisions. It was dark, lit only by strobe lights that cut through the haze like lightning.

I shouldn't be here. This was their territory.

I moved through the crowd, ignoring the hands that tried to grab my waist, the eyes that tracked my movement. I made my way to the bar, sliding onto a stool.

"Whiskey. Neat. The most expensive one you have," I told the bartender.

He raised an eyebrow but poured the amber liquid. I downed it in one burn. It felt like fire, scorching away the numbness Grant had left behind.

I signaled for another.

I was three drinks in when I felt the shift in the room. It wasn't a sound. It was a change in atmospheric pressure. The crowd near the VIP balcony parted like the Red Sea. The laughter died down, replaced by hushed whispers.

I turned on my stool, the alcohol giving me a false sense of bravery. And then I saw them.

Three of them.

They walked down the stairs with the casual arrogance of men who owned the building, the city, and everyone inside it.

Leading the pack was Silas. The eldest. He was wearing a black suit that cost more than my first car, but he didn't wear it like a businessman. He wore it like armor. His dark hair was slicked back, revealing a face carved from granite. His eyes were cold, calculating, scanning the room for threats.

Behind him was Dante. The wild one. He wasn't wearing a suit jacket, and his white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the top, revealing the ink that crawled up his neck. He had a scar through his left eyebrow, a souvenir from a fight I remembered patching up in my kitchen ten years ago. He was grinning, but it was a wolf’s grin—predatory and sharp.

And bringing up the rear was Julian. The youngest, but arguably the most dangerous. He looked like an angel, with blonde hair and a soft smile, but I knew what lay beneath. He was the one who could talk you into jumping off a bridge and make you think it was your idea.

The Mercer Brothers.

Six years. It had been six years since I’d seen them. Since the day of my brother’s funeral, when Silas had looked me in the eye and told me I was poison, that I needed to leave their world before I got killed.

They looked... harder. Bigger. The boyish charm was gone, replaced by a ruthless masculinity that made my mouth go dry. They radiated power. Dark, terrifying, seductive power.

I should turn around. I should hide. If they saw me, if they saw the "good girl" Ivy in a place like this, wearing a dress like this...

But I couldn't look away.

As if sensing my gaze, Silas stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He didn't scan the crowd. He turned his head slowly, precisely, until his eyes locked onto mine.

The air left my lungs.

It wasn't a casual glance. It was a collision. I saw the recognition flash in his eyes, followed immediately by a storm of darkness. His jaw clenched tight.

He tapped Dante on the shoulder. Dante looked over, his grin vanishing instantly. Then Julian followed their gaze.

Three pairs of eyes. Three predators spotting a lost lamb.

Panic flared in my chest, warring with a heat I hadn't felt in years. I spun around, facing the bar, my hands shaking as I reached for my purse. This was a mistake. A huge mistake. I wasn't a rebel; I was a fraud. I couldn't handle men like them. I couldn't handle them.

I threw a hundred-dollar bill on the counter and hopped off the stool, keeping my head down. I needed to get to the exit. I needed to get back to my sterile house and my cheating husband and my safe, miserable life.

I pushed through the crowd, heading for the side exit near the restrooms, hoping to avoid the main floor where they were.

I was halfway down the dimly lit corridor when a heavy hand slammed against the wall right next to my head, blocking my path.

I gasped, stumbling back.

Another body moved behind me, blocking my retreat.

"Well, well," a low, gravelly voice said, vibrating through my bones. "If it isn't little Ivy. The runaway."

I looked up. Dante was towering over me, his arm bracing the wall, trapping me. The scent of sandalwood, gunpowder, and rain filled my nose.

"You're a long way from the country club, princess," Julian’s smooth voice came from behind, his breath hot against my ear.

I was trapped. And the way Dante was looking at me—like he wanted to devour me whole—told me they had no intention of letting me go.