Page 84 of Nocturne

I take the phone, immediately on alert.

“Is everything alright?” I ask as I cut the bread, plating two pieces for Cas, who snatches them up with a kiss on my cheek before heading to the next room. But Ivy’s breathless voice brings me back, chilling the warm air around me.

“Ara, I’m in trouble.”

My blood runs cold. I can hear panic in her voice, and what might be shouting in the background.

“Are you hurt?”

“No,” she whispers, her voice thick with fear.

“I’m on my way,” I promise.

I hang up, heart racing, and scroll through my contacts. I pause over Eero’s name, hesitating. Despite everything, I can’t bring myself to involve him, not with Cas at home. I wouldn’t risk a single thing around my son. Nico’s out, too. Ellie? She’s with the kids now, and I know she’s stretched thin.

There’s only one person I can rely on. I dial, and Harley picks up on the first ring.

“Ara?” She sounds concerned.

“Hi, Harley. I’m so sorry for the last-minute call, but something urgent’s come up. Would you mind watching Cas for a bit?”

“Of course. I’ll be at your place in ten.”

I love how she doesn’t even hesitate. By the time she arrives, I’ve pulled on my jacket, found my gun and taken a deep breath, steadying myself. Cas runs over to me, and I kneel, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Baby, I need to step out for a little while.”

He nods solemnly, trying to hide his worry. I ruffle his hair, reassuring him, but my mind’s already half out the door. Harley smiles, patting my shoulder, her tone steady and comforting.

“I’ll keep him safe until you’re back. Don’t worry.”

And with that, I’m out the door, hoping I can reach Ivy before danger catches up with her.

Twenty-Three

Ara

I am going to die.

The thought had been on the forefront of my mind ever since I had stepped inside this dingy-looking pub which was on the back of Roarfort. Past experiences should teach people something. Looks like I belong to the set of annoying individuals who cannot learn and will eventually, one day, die. A gruesome death, mind you.

Here I am, in a place I don’t to be in, with Ivy tangled in something I have no idea of but sends shivers down my spine. Nothing that evokes fear of that kind from her voice can be good.

This isn’t a place I’d ever have chosen. My leg won’t stop bouncing beneath the table, every nerve of mine is on edge, and Ivy—well, I don’t even know where she is.

She’s late, and I can feel every second ticking by as a reminder that we don’t belong here.

Someone who’s been kidnapped once doesn’t just stroll into seedy bars, waiting for friends who should know better. But here I am, waiting, listening to the chaos around me.

The floor here is sticky, covered in spilt drinks that nobody bothers to clean up, and the waitresses are harassed constantly, each one enduring slaps and jeers as they try to do their jobs. Even the young bartender is too young for this crowd. And noone here seems to care, not the heavily tattooed owner hunched over his phone or the patrons who leer openly at any woman nearby. One customer pulls a waitress onto his lap, and she barely flinches, grinding against him with a dead-eyed boredom that makes me sick.

It’s disgusting. This whole place reeks of sleaze and danger, and I feel about as out of place as a goldfish in a piranha tank. These men look as if they are one alcohol glass away from causing a murder ruckus.

I catch myself scanning the room for Ivy, nerves prickling as I wonder how she manages to walk into places like this, and why.

Just as the panic is about to skyrocket, she appears, stepping casually as if she frequents this place. Ivy’s disguised in baggy clothes, her hair hidden under a hood and cap. She barely resembles herself.

No one pays her any mind as she slides into the seat across from me, her smile casual but clearly forced. My relief at seeing her melts into frustration. And also suspicion.

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