Arkham Knight Ivy Novels & Stories

he moved and wrapped a hand around his neck, squeezing until he couldn't breath, until he was at the verge of passing out. “Vorath!!" The voice cut through the air and the Darkforce stilled. It slowly turned to Ivy who was standing at the edge of the clearing, with hair silver and eyes glowing white. Her body was marked with ancient glowing sigils and spells with her hands slightly held up. Magic curled around her fingers like it was a living thing, making her more ethereal to look at. "I've been waiting for you.” She said calmly. The Darkforce shifted with interest. "Finally a moon veiler to spice things up" he mummered.

My name is Ivy, nice to meet you", she said, hanging her hand out to me. I shook it. " Nice to meet you, Ivy", I told her, smiling. " Good luck today Ember", Jax called to me before his eyes set on Ivy, who just looked at him and blushed. He winked at her and went along his way. Ivy is a real beauty. She was black, with pretty brown locks with purple tips on the ends. It was braided in a crown pinned around her head. Her eyes were a beautiful honey color. She looked really young. I was wondering what the age limit was here.

Ivy shuddered, revulsion coursing through her veins. In a flash, Ivy's training kicked in. She grabbed Vladimir's wrist, twisting it sharply. Vladimir grunted, caught off guard. Ivy seized the opportunity, slamming her knee into his stomach. Vladimir doubled over, gasping. With lightning speed, Ivy snatched a nearby vase and smashed it over Vladimir's head. He crumpled to the floor, unconscious. Ivy sprinted down the corridor, her heart racing. She heard Vladimir's enraged roar echoing behind her. No guards blocked her path, but she knew it wouldn't last. Ivy's eyes scanned the area, spotting a guard room to her left.

My throat ran dry and I squeezed my eyes shut, instantly regretting putting myself in such a dangerous state. “Hope no one saw you,” Ivy's rough voice caused the hairs on my nape to rise as she spoke to the man I had seen creeping out of one of the caves. My eyes popped open when a gruff voice responded, saying, “No one saw me.” Slightly, I poked out my head from behind the tree and peeked at them from over my thick lashes. “Did you bring it?” Ivy inquired, dressed in a black cloak with its oversized Cape hanging over her head.

Especially by those who didn’t know her. Ivy had been staying at an apartment that was under the name she was using now. Rose Woods. Her father called her to let her know that Ryan was dying and he was admitted to the hospital. Despite the risk, Ivy couldn’t help herself. She wanted to see how far Ryan had fallen after ruining her life. So, she bribed a nurse to help her sneak into Ryan’s ward. Sure enough, she felt a sense of satisfaction after seeing him look so weak and vulnerable. She suddenly sneered and said, “Ryan Kingsley, I still can’t believe that you were so gullible. How could you believe that I was crippled for so many years? Me? Ivy Williams? Why would I be a cripple?!”

Author's pov Ivy showed up to the second meeting in head-to-toe black. Funeral Black like she was mourning the one year of her life she was about to lose. She was dressed in a silk blouse, tailored pencil skirt. Her heels seemed tall enough to stomp on egos, and her sunglasses alone seemed to cost more than Liam Calloway’s entire personality. She walked into the boardroom like she owned it. Because technically… she did. Her father looked up from his seat, immediately tense. The Calloways were already there......Liam, his father, and their snake of a lawyer. They all turned as she entered.

Ivy came out of her room wearing a pink silk dress with an open back and halter neck, complete with heels. “Should I let my hair down or put it in a ponytail?” “Ponytail.” Tim grabbed Ivy's hair and put it up in a ponytail. “Band?” “Here you go.” “Thank you.” “You look beautiful, Ivy.” “Aww, that's so sweet! My ride's here; I gotta go.” “Ivy?” “Yes?” “Take care of yourself.” “Sure thing, Tim. Bye!” “Bye,” Tim said almost in a whisper. Ivy went downstairs. By the car stood Alex, holding a bouquet of white roses.

She was a fan. Of my brother. A full-blown, delusional, glitter-heart fangirl. I stepped further inside. Her phone was still on the bed, screen lit up and yes, Brian Blake’s grinning face stared back at me like he knew. I was going to lose my mind. “You don’t knock now?” came Ivy’s voice from behind me. I turned. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed, hair still a little messy from sleep, and wearing that ridiculous robe that showed too much of her legs and not enough self-preservation.

On the terminal, Arthur’s face was a pixelated mask of cold, bureaucratic evil. "Vane," Arthur’s voice boomed through the speakers, "the host’s vitals are spiking. She’s resisting the sedative. Increase the dosage. I want her dormant before the tactical team breaches the vault." Ivy didn't wait for Dante’s permission. She grabbed the tactical rifle he had recovered from the farmhouse floor. Her hands were steady, fueled by a cocktail of Phase Three adrenaline and a newfound, jagged clarity. She wasn't just Ivy St. Claire, the heiress; she wasn't just the 'Result.' She was the woman Dante Moretti had broken and rebuilt, and she was done being a ghost.