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Chapter 28: Erick’s Scheme
Last Updated:
2024-07-04 13:56:04
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Ivy's POVI’m on my way out of the pack house when I see Erick hovering by the doorway.My heart plummets, and I suddenly feel myself filled with panic at the sight of him. I lower my head and avert my gaze, trying to walk past him quickly so he has no idea I’m here. I have no intention whatsoever of talking to him–unless the words I’m speaking are the last words he’ll ever hear. Just as I’m about to pass him by, though, I feel the barest brush of fingertips on my shoulders. Mood Goddess, save me.“You look beautiful today, Ivy,” Erick says in that casually flippant tone of his as he leers at me, looking me up and down with a gaze that makes my skin crawl. I purse my lips and do my best not to dignify him with a response. I don’t want to engage with him. By the look in his eyes, though, he’s eager to keep engaging with me, and I can already feel the awkward sting of whatever horrible pickup line he has locked and loaded. Just as Erick opens his mouth to speak again, though, Veron
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Ivy's POVHow am I supposed to thank him?I have to admit, I’ve got absolutely no frame of reference for what an appropriate form of repayment would be. Maybe, if my life was anything like it was before, I’d know what to do. I’d make him a lavish meal, or give him a hug, or go on a walk with him. That’s what I used to do for my father anytime he did something nice for me. But this situation is entirely different from that.And the way Spencer is looking at me now–There’s a bareness to his gaze, an intensity. A hunger, maybe. A sense of possession. He wants something else entirely from me. So how should I repay him?“You know what I want, Ivy,” Prince Spencer says in a low, sultry voice that moves across my skin like silk. “Show me how clever you are.”“I–I–” I scowl in annoyance at my own tied tongue. I always seem to stutter around Spencer, to my immense frustration. There’s something about him, his power, his dominance. It always trips me up. I have no idea how I’m supposed to a
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Spencer's POV“Your Highness, Veronica wants to see you.”I look up in shock at Beta Wilson, who’s currently lingering in the doorway of my office, shifting his weight nervously from foot to foot. Why would Veronica want to see me? Considering everything that’s happened between her and Ivy, she should be utterly terrified of me. “Tell her I have no reason to see her,” I commanded. I already know what I need to know from Ivy–there’s no need for me to meet Veronica right now. Moreover, if Erick discovered I was meeting with her, he might realize I know about his crimes.Plus, knowing what Veronica has done to Ivy, I don’t think I could trust myself to be civil with her. Beta Wilson nods respectfully, then turns on his heel and leaves my office. I follow him down the hallway to his room, where–as we’d arranged–the Thunderclaw warrior has been imprisoned.We managed the whole situation discreetly, of course, taking him captive late last night under the cover of darkness so Alpha Erick
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Ivy's POVEven though the cave’s dim lighting prevents me from being able to see who it is, I can recognize the voice instantly. Erick.I grit my teeth, glaring into the mouth of the tunnel as the bastard approaches. White hot rage courses through my veins. I’ll never forget the voice of that demon. He’ll be burned into my psyche for the rest of my life. Spencer and Beta Wilson exchange a quick glance, an evident understanding passing between them. He won’t be escaping this cave tonight. They move towards Erick as one. As they move, though, Erick seems to recognize Spencer. His eyes widen in fear. He quickly backs up, then spins around and starts sprinting back out of the tunnel.Coward that he is. I hold my breath, heart racing furiously. I want Erick dead and gone with more passion than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I want to tear him limb from limb, watch the blood spill out. I want him to feel every bit of the pain I’ve felt. “Get him!” I cry out desperately, the sound
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Spencer’s POV“So is the baby okay?” I ask the question frantically, watching both Ivy and the infant in fear that something could go wrong at any instant. The image laid out before me is peaceful–Ivy is cradling our child in both arms, rocking her back and forth and humming and whispering sweet nothings against her baby curls. Most of the blood has been wiped from the infant’s pudgy body, and she’s sleeping now, all curled up in her fuzzy pink blanket. But I can’t shake the lingering feeling that something is terribly, horribly wrong. Doctor Danbury shrugs. “Honestly, if I didn’t know she was about twenty-eight weeks early, I wouldn’t have known,” she replies. “Her vitals are healthy, her breathing is good, she’s an appropriate weight and size… this was pretty much the ideal scenario for childbirth, save for the fact that it happened directly after your wedding. I can’t promise anything going forward, but right now, you have a perfectly healthy baby girl.” “But how did this… happ
