Ivy's POVWhen I wake up in an unfamiliar room, all I can focus on is the pounding in my head. My eyes blink open blearily, and I manage to prop myself up onto my elbows, sitting half-upright. My head feels as though it’s been stuffed with cotton, and as I raise my arm to adjust my hair, I catch sight of the IV on the back of my hand. The sight of needles tugging under my skin makes me wince.Wait–needles? All at once, I realize where I am. I’m in a hospital bed. “Ivy!” Spencer exclaims, relieved. My eyes widen as I look to my left, where I can see Spencer, Sylvia, and Wilson sitting in the corner of my room. It doesn’t seem like they’ve been here long at all–they all seem tensed-up, not yet comfortable in their seats. As I take in my surroundings, all three of them are looking at me with concern. “What… what happened?” I murmur blearily. “We don’t quite know yet,” Spencer replies, stone-faced. Though he’s done his best to school his expression, it’s not quite working. I know h
Ivy's POVYou’re pregnant, Ivy. All at once, the world seems to collapse in on itself. I feel like I could pass out all over again as the hospital bed starts to tilt beneath me and the wallpaper twists itself into knots. I can feel my heart starting to race and my breath starting to quicken but maybe that’s not me and it’s actually all the baby– Pregnant? I suppose it’s possible–I mean, all things considered with how Spencer and I have conducted ourselves before, it’s most definitely very possible–but pregnancy has never felt like something that could happen to me. It seems like it should be a reality disconnected from myself. I’ve always wanted kids. I have a son already. But a baby? A baby I’ll give birth to myself? How am I supposed to raise an infant? I glance over at Spencer to see how he’s taking the news. He’s gone red in the face, with wide eyes and a slack jaw. For once, he looks completely, utterly dumbfounded. Spencer’s the father. Of course he is. Who else would it
Spencer's POVIvy’s words ring through my head, chilling me to the bone. “I don’t want to put a child through you.” What’s that supposed to mean? That oh, I’d be such a terrible person to raise a child with? That I’m not fit to be a parent? That I’d damage the child just by trying to be in their life? Absolutely absurd. But as Ivy looks deep into my eyes, I realize that her words aren’t motivated by any sort of anger over what;s happened between us. No–she looks scared, and sad, and completely, utterly alone. She looks like she doesn’t know who she can rely on to support her with this. And I can’t even say that I blame her for feeling this way. She’s right. I am engaged to Delilah. I haven’t been making Ivy feel like a priority in all the ways she deserves. I have no idea what kind of father I’d be. It makes sense that Ivy would want to keep me at arm’s length, and as I gaze into her eyes, I can tell that she’s close to snapping. I think any attempts made to argue with her now w
Ivy's POVAs I watch Spencer leave my room, I can feel my heart plummeting into my stomach. I glance over at Sylvia, Wilson, and Dr. Danbury reluctantly, shame burning my cheeks. “I’m sorry you had to see that, guys,” I say awkwardly. “I just. Um. This whole situation has been..” I trail off, not quite sure how to finish the sentence. How could I even explain the depths of what I’m feeling right now? I want to raise a child with Spencer, but not when we’re like this. I hate him. I love him. I don’t know what our future is going to look like, and that terrifies me. The mere thought of him makes me feel sick to my stomach, but whenever I’m apart from him I can feel the stress eating me alive. Really, there’s no good option for me. Wilson clears his throat. “I need to check on some… military stuff,” he says abruptly, standing up and heaving towards the door. He shoots a pointed look towards Sylvia. “Let me know if you need anything?” “I can also give the two of you some space,” Dr.
Ivy's POVJust as I can feel the tears starting to stream down my face, I feel a pair of warm, reassuring arms wrap around me. I gasp as Sylvia embraces me tightly. Her fingers run along my back gently, a sweet, soothing motion. Slowly, gradually I can feel myself begin to relax. My heart rate steadies. My breathing slows. Little by little, the tears abate. “Thank you,” I sniffle, looking up at her. “I really–I really needed that.” “Of course.” Sylvia pulls away, but her hands continue to rest on my shoulders. “Honestly, Ivy, I can’t say whether or not Spencer will be in this baby’s life. I don’t know how involved he wants to be. I can’t pretend I know what your future will look like. But no matter what happens with him, you have me. You know that, don’t you?” “I–I do,” I reply with a weak smile. “Yeah. Thank you so much, for everything.” “You were there for everything with me and Wilson,” Sylvia replies. “Despite all of your own problems. Despite all the horrible, horrible thing
Spencer's POVIt’s been a day since I got the news about Ivy’s pregnancy announcement, and I still have no idea what I’m supposed to do. I’m deathly tired–I wasn’t able to sleep last night, thanks to the endless cacophony of thoughts rattling around my brain. Who is Ivy to deny me access to my mate, to the child she carries? Failing to raise that child would be a true failure as a man, and I can’t even stomach the thought. A child is supposed to be my legacy. The mark I leave on this world. A reminder of the goodness, the purity, of life itself. If Ivy truly doesn’t want me around, I have no idea how I’m supposed to respond. She’ll have access to everything she could ever want or need, of course. Doctor’s appointments, maternity clothes, whatever foods her pregnancy cravings leave her wanting. And I’m already having facilities drawn up for the child, including a nursery right beside Ivy’s bedroom. I’m doing what I can without directly getting involved, but I want to get involved.
Spencer's POVColin just went into Delilah’s room, and judging by the look on his face, it can’t be for any good reason. I stare at the closed door intently, trying to replay what I just saw. I didn’t actually catch a view of whether or not anyone answered the door–I can’t be sure as to whether Delilah opened the door to let Colin in, or whether he simply broke in on his own. I don’t know which option is worse. I cast a quick glance around the halls, scouting out the surroundings as I plan my next move. Colin and Delilah–whatever they’re up to, this is most definitely an unexpected development. I don’t like the idea of them spending time together. While I’m not the most fond of Delilah, I have unfortunately had to let her get to know me. And she’s close to all the Lycan Royal Family’s secrets now, being my bride-to-be. Hell, she’s in on plans that not even Colin is aware of. And Colin hates them. The idea of an alliance between the two poses an additional threat to me within the
Spencer's POV“Miss Delilah–” Suddenly, Colin’s voice becomes whiny, plaintive. The voice of a spoiled child who didn’t get what he wanted. I can’t help but chuckle–Colin wanted to rile Delilah up, to rattle her, but it didn’t work. I may not know how Delilah feels about any of this, but I do know that she’s smart enough not to be fooled by such obvious schemes. Colin thinks I love Delilah now, so he’s trying to drive a wedge in our relationship. Exactly as I saw coming. It’s almost pathetic how predictable he is. But even still–to try and drive a wedge in my future marriage like this? Delilah and I aren’t in love, but if we were, this attempt of his would cause so much pain. And that pain is exactly what he wants. I’d say this is a new low for Colin, but I think he’s always been this desperate to drag me down. My being engaged has just given him yet another avenue to try and ruin my life. “Go, please,” Delilah says primly. “I’m so sorry if I’ve offended you in any way,” Colin
Ivy's POVI think I can feel my last breaths rattling in my chest. I don’t know how much longer I have left at all. I thought I’d be long gone by this point, if we’re being really honest. I feel like I’m mostly gone—my vision has gone completely, since I no longer have the energy to keep my eyes open, and I can barely breathe at all. My heartbeat feels like it could stop any moment. I’m aware of the pain wracking my body, that red-hot agony tearing me apart. It sizzles and simmers on my skin. It feels like it’s tearing me apart. But at the same time, I can’t feel anything at all. I know there are things I should be feeling. Grass beneath my body, maybe. The blood that’s seeped into the soil. The grime and metal residue on my skin from having been locked in that cage. I can picture all of these things, in a vague, spun-out way. I can remember what they'd be like. I can simulate the feeling. It’s not the same as actually experiencing it, though. ‘Please, Ivy, try to hold on,’ Venet
Spencer's POVI can feel Elder Jet watching me as the life slowly ebbs from my body, and I want to tear his eyes out. He’s smirking down at me, lips curled into a sickening grin. I grit my teeth as I look up at him. I think I could stand up if I wanted to, maybe land a couple weak blows, maybe draw a bit of blood, but what’s the point? I’d rather save my energy for when I know I’d at least have a fighting chance at getting something done. “Your army is failing,” Elder Jet says to me, crouching down by my side. “Or rather—you failed them, didn’t you? Because you weren’t strong enough, weren’t smart enough, weren’t able to do what needed to be done. I suppose losing Ivy rattled you even more than I would have anticipated, hm?” He chuckles, a bitter, rasping sound. “You can’t even begin to imagine how glorious it feels to get everything you ever wanted so perfectly laid out for you.”I’m still trying to reach out to my centurions, hoping to rally them and their troops to battle. But ag
Spencer's POVElder Jet’s cold laugh chills me to the bone. “My, my, Prince Spencer,” he says smugly. I can see him towering over me, can feel the droplets of my own blood pooling into the ground below me as the silver mist works its way into my skin. “I thought you’d at least be able to put up a better fight than that!” “A prince’s pride is often his own undoing,” comes the witch’s voice, prompting another wave of revulsion to come over me. “So I can’t say I’m particularly surprised.” I let out a ragged cough, droplets of blood splattering out this time. That can’t be good. My chest burns as small drops of silver continue to worm through my skin, and the sizzle of my flesh on fire combined with the iron tang in the back of my throat makes me want to puke. I want to speak, want to form words, but it feels like my vocal chords have been severed and drenched in lighter fluid. Reinforcements. We need reinforcements. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Gamma Everly, Alpha Leo, and
Spencer's POV“I really did try to warn you.” The witch’s words are nonchalant, spoken with a sigh as she tucks the silver spray back into one of the pockets of her dress. She watches Gamma Everly, Alpha Leo, and Wilson carefully as the silver spray begins to take effect. A shiver of revulsion runs through me as I realize what’s happening. Their pained, piercing screams fill the air as they all swat at their skin frantically, as though they’re being stung by a swarm of bees. Those little droplets of silver mist, innocuous and beautiful as they seem, appear to be burrowing into everyone’s skin. I can see little pinpricks of blood running down every inch of exposed flesh–even Gamma Everly, who’s encased almost head to toe in her heavy red armour, has blood on her face as she tries desperately to rub the spray off her face. The smell of overcooked meat fills the air, and my stomach turns. Small wisps of smoke are rising up from the site of everyone’s exposure. Gamma Everly, Alpha Leo,
Spencer's POV“Step away from them!” Gamma Everly’s voice is strong as she levels her sword at the witch’s chest. Even in the pale moonlight, her red armour seems to glow, almost illuminating her in a crimson halo. The blade’s edge is wicked sharp, and even just looking at it makes my skin feel a twinge of sympathetic pain. Her eyes are cruel and hard as diamonds as they bore right through the witch’s skull. But the witch only lets out a calm, melodic laugh as she trails her fingers along the sides of the small silver bottle she’s just procured. Alpha Leo and Wilson exchange concerned looks as they stand behind Gamma Everly, prepared to back her up the moment she needs it. “Gamma Everly, please don’t be so foolish,” the witch says with a sneer. “And tell those men to stand down, too. Ivy and Spencer are dying. There’s nothing you can do to save them. I can take you down in an instant if I want to, but I figure I should do you the courtesy of sparing you that pain now.” “Not a chan
“I love you.”Ivy’s final words to me ring in my ears like gunshots. I hold her close, I kiss her forehead softly, I do everything I can think to do because I can feel her slipping away. Her body is so small in my arms, so frail, and I can tell I’m losing her, and then–Ivy’s strange, dreamed-up world flickers in and out of view, alternating between the woods and the battlefield outside of the barracks. All at once, she’s not in my arms. I don’t know where she is, but I’m lying on bloodstained grass and I can hear the fighting all around me and my throat feels like it’s on fire. I’m awake now. This isn’t a dream. It hits me all at once, the crushing weight of realization–if we’re not inside Ivy’s mind anymore, if we’re not intertwined in that beautiful place where we could avoid the rest of the world, that must mean Ivy wasn’t able to sustain the connection for any longer than she did. And considering the poison she’d swallowed, considering the undeniable consequence of that…She’s
Ivy's POVIt takes me a good couple of moments to realize I’m not dead. Death, I’d always imagined, would be cold. Distant. Disconnected–and that’s only if I’m aware of anything at all. But as my eyes slowly open and I continue to hear the overwhelming cacophony of war all around me, it slowly dawns on me that I’m not, in fact, dead. The pain hits me a couple moments later. In my mind, it had been a nagging sort of reminder. But all at once, my throat is burning like it’s been doused with acid once more, and blood keeps dribbling down my lips. The overpowering iron taste is enough to make me want to throw up, but I do my best to hold it back. The feeling of bile against my already-shredded throat would no doubt push my already-excruciating agony to new, unimaginable heights. I’m trembling from head to toe. My entire body feels weak and limb, barely within my control. It’s hard to feel much of anything beyond the pain, really. How am I alive? I should be dead. ‘Hang in there, Ivy
Ivy's POV“Loving you is the best thing I ever did.” Spencer’s hands in mine are soft and warm and reassuring. He feels like coming home. Like relaxing. Like finally letting myself feel peace. I look at him, and my heart flutters. He’s going to be the last thing I ever see, and I couldn’t have chosen a better view. “Thank you for telling me,” I say to Spencer. It feels as though a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. I’m almost ashamed to admit it, but for so long, I’ve been clinging to the notion that Spencer left me because he wanted to. Because he could. “I wanted to tell you sooner,” Spencer admits. “There were so many times… but then there would be people around, or Delilah would interrupt me, or–did you know she told me she’d explain the whole situation to you herself, so no one would be suspicious and think the engagement was false? That was her entire reason for me to keep it a secret! All so the rest of the world would believe that Delilah was my mate, not you.” I
Spencer's POVIvy and I are lying in the grass, and as time continues to pass in this stolen in-between, I can tell her mind is racing a thousand miles a minute. I roll over so I’m facing her. I could spend a lifetime admiring Ivy–her soft, sculpted features, her beautiful blue eyes as endless as oceans, the way her auburn hair spills over her shoulders. When I'm this close to her, when we’re almost face-to-face, I can see faded freckles splashed across her cheeks like constellations. She’s a work of art. Her gaze is fixed on the sky up above, lips parted ever so slightly, hands clasped over her chest. And she’s completely, utterly lost in thought. I reach over and grab one of Ivy’s hands. She jolts ever so slightly at the touch, then looks over and smiles distantly at me. I furrow my brow. “What’s on your mind?” I ask her. “It seems so silly to bring up now,” Ivy mumbles. “Don’t worry about it, please.” I tilt my head, looking her over once more. I’m trying to etch every last