Page 130 of Vicious Knight

Kill first, ask questions later.

I can’t let that happen to her, so I’ll say nothing to him.

The only person I can trust to help me now, and trust with Ivy’s secret, is Lucian.

I just hope that maybe, maybe we can get to the bottom of this.

Finally…

Chapter 30

Ivy

I rest against Thorne’s chest.

We’re lying in his bed wrapped within the warmth of his sheets and each other.

It’s just past three in the morning. I fell asleep in his arms and woke up over an hour ago. I haven’t been able to sleep since.

I’m already an insomniac but the last two weeks have been particularly bad.

It was two weeks ago that I stood in that hotel room in Amherst with Thorne, spilling the rest of my secrets about the scar-faced man.

It was two weeks ago that we realized we both knew the man, and Thorne has been looking into the situation since.

It was another strange twist of events but on this occasion, it’s left me more restless than ever because for once I have hope.

That sounds incongruent and doesn’t make sense. Hope is supposed to set you at ease and make you feel positive, but I feel none of those things.

I won’t feel anything of the sort until my father is free. And that still feels like a faraway dream for the lost little girl inside me.

All I have right now is the knowledge that I’m not alone anymore. Thorne knows everything, and he’s done everything he could to give me that closure I wanted when Isabelle first told me about the Knights' database.

Thorne and I searched it together, even though he knew we’d find nothing, and he even showed me stuff about my father. Recent updates and pictures that were taken a few years ago.

They’d shaved Dad’s head and battered him. But the worst thing was, Dad was missing an eye. I cried and cried and cried when I saw that.

Thorne did his best to comfort me, but there’s only so much anyone can do. There will only be so much he can do going forward. Telling him the truth doesn’t mean we fixed things. So I’m still in limbo.

I shuffle to face Thorne. My movements don’t wake him. He’s still out cold.

I stare at him, fascinated that even like this, in this sleep state, he projects that air of danger.

Most people, even animals, look softer, less harsh and more vulnerable in their sleep. He doesn’t.

Thorne still looks like the vengeful god lying in wait to wreak havoc on anything that stands in his way or takes what belongs to him.

I never felt more like I belonged to him than in those moments back in Amherst when he held me. Something happened between us that night that felt like more than the sharing of truths and memories of darkness.

Every time I’ve questioned myself about my feelings for Thorne I always put up that wall in my mind to stop myself from falling for him.

I can’t even see that wall now. There’s not a single brick in sight, and I don’t think I’ve been able to see the wall for a while now.

I don’t even know when it came down, but I know I fell for Thorne a long time ago.

Now, as I look at him, I know I love him.

I love him.

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