Page 28 of Deadly Passion

“Five years,” she replies, her expression darkening. “And I already told you, I’m not one of them anymore. They kicked me out, and I’ll never go back.”

“Why?”

“The reason is irrelevant,” she says coolly.

She’s testing my patience, so I try another question, “Why did you join them?”

“You already know why,” she replies. “I assume you have your theories. For you to have worked out who I really am, you must know about my past. I’ve already told you some of the story.”

“We want to hear it from you,” I insist.

“So, you want all the dirty details…” She drops Bram’s hand and turns her attention to me. She sits straighter. Despite being weak and malnourished, she presents strength. “Do you want to hear all about how Spencer Bexley raped me? Or how about how he left me there to die by the side of the road? Or even better, do you want to know all about how I watched his men kill my little sister in front of me, and how there was nothing I could do to stop it?”

I switch off my emotions, reminding myself that this is the woman who was going to kill us.

“The Killers Club gave me a choice. I could leave or join them. If I stayed, they’d give me a new identity. They promised they could make me strong, teach me to fight, and make sure I never felt weak again,” Ivy continues. “I didn’t hesitate. With Daisy dead, I had nothing else left. She deserved justice.”

“How many people have you killed?”

“I don’t keep count,” she replies.

That says more than any number could.

Seb pipes up, “When were you planning to kill us?”

A tension-filled silence fills the room while we wait for the words we know she’ll say but don’t want to hear.

“Alaric—my boss, who you had the pleasure of meeting at the Conservatory—gave me three days, but things didn’t go as planned…”

“I guess you must have been upset when Callen killed your friend,” I scoff. “I bet that ruined your plans.”

She doesn’t reply, and her gaze strays to Callen, who has suddenly taken a keen interest in a spot of flaking paint on the wall.

“What is it, Callen?” I ask sharply.

“Callen didn’t kill Tom,” Ivy answers for him. “I killed him.”

Seb’s jaw drops as I question, “Is she telling the truth?”

“I wouldn’t give her all the credit.” Callen shrugs. “I mean, I helped…”

“Unbelievable,” I mutter. I’ll deal with him later. I turn back to Ivy. “Why did you kill him? Surely, it’d have been easier to have a buddy around to help you when you were going to massacre all of us, anyway.”

“It was my mission, not his,” Ivy says. “And I needed to get more information. I needed… more time.”

“More time to do what?” I can’t keep the bitterness from creeping into my voice. “More time to fuck with our heads? Trick us into bed? Let us think you were someone you’re not?”

“It’s complicated,” she says, wringing her hands in her lap. “I… I didn’t know any of you were the Dukes until that day we met again at the bar.”

“You can’t expect us to believe that,” I sneer.

“Believe what you want, but I have no reason to lie anymore,” she says, locking her determined stare on mine. “And you should try to remember that you’d all be dead if it wasn’t for me, so maybe you should start showing me a little gratitude.”

Anger spreads through me like wildfire and makes my entire body shake.

“Gratitude?” I spit. “Why would we show the assassin who wanted to kill us any gratitude?”

“Last time I checked, you’re not dead!” Ivy stands. It’s hard for her to be intimidating when she looks like the Abominable Snowman’s Scottish cousin in an oversized white dressing gown. “Have you ever stopped to think about why the Killers Club locked me in the dungeon? They did it because I failed my mission, and they thought I was compromised.”

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