Cold.
That’s the first thing I feel when I wake up. A deep, bone-chilling cold that seeps into my skin, curling around my ribs like iron fingers.
Then, pain. A sharp, dull ache pulses through my head. My wrists burn, and when I try to move, something stops me.
Chains. My eyes snap open.
Darkness greets me. A thick, suffocating blackness. The air is damp, heavy with the scent of stone and something metallic—blood.
I tug at the chains binding my wrists, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps. I’m locked up.
My heart pounds as I scan my surroundings. A small room. No windows. No light except for the faintest glow under the door.
A prison.
Ivy.
The last thing I remember was escaping Damian’s penthouse—only to be caught.
She did this. My body trembles, but not with fear. With rage.
I pull against the chains again, harder this time. They rattle against the stone wall, but they don’t break.
The door creaks.
I freeze.
A shaft of dim light spills into the room as the heavy door swings open. A silhouette stands there, her golden hair glowing like fire in the dark.
Ivy Monroe.
Behind her, another figure steps inside. Damian. His shoulders are tense, his expression shadowed. He looks… defeated.
Something inside me twists.
No.
He shouldn’t be here. He should be looking for me. Rescuing me. Fighting for me. Not standing beside her.
I lift my chin, forcing my voice to stay steady. “Let me guess. You’re finally here to kill me?”
Ivy smiles. It’s slow, sharp—a blade hidden behind silk.
“Not yet.”
She steps forward, tilting her head. “I want to give Damian a choice first.”
I glance at him. He won’t meet my eyes.
My stomach sinks. “What choice?” I demand.
Ivy runs a delicate hand over the stone wall, as if admiring the craftsmanship of my cell.
“My family’s legacy is everything to Damian,” she says softly. “If he marries me, he secures his empire. His power. His place in this world.”
She turns to him, smiling. “But if he chooses you? He loses everything.”
I swallow hard, my chest tightening. “You’re making him pick between me and his future?” I say bitterly.
Ivy’s eyes gleam. “No, Selene.” She leans down, gripping my chin between her fingers. “I’m making him pick between you… and survival.”
I go still. Ivy glances at Damian. “You have until tomorrow.”
Then she walks toward the door.
Damian turns to leave too, but as he moves, something falls from his pocket.
A single folded piece of paper. I noticed immediately.
I crawled, picking it up. My eyes flick across the paper.
And then—my entire body stiffens. A strange expression crosses my face. Confusion. Shock. Maybe even fear.
I narrow my eyes. What did I just read?
I step back into the dim light, holding the paper up. The flickering candle casts just enough glow for me to see the handwriting.
And at the bottom—
A signature.
Ivy’s.
My pulse stops.
It’s a letter from Ivy.
Addressed to Elias Calloway. The ink is faded, but I can still read the first few words:
“Please. Don’t do this. I don’t want to die.”
The letter is dated years ago.
I stare.
A single question rips through my mind.
Why did Elias want Ivy, his god daughter, dead?