Page 66 of Poisoning Ivy
"No, no," he tuts, closing the space between us. "Don't try and invalidate the truth because your fucking boyfriend shot me."
As if remembering he has the gun, he lifts it in his hand and appraises it a moment. My eyes dart to the counter, the last place I saw the boys, but they're gone.
They left me.
I don't want them in the crosshairs. I don't want them in Cody's path. But I didn't want them to leave me, to fuck me and play with my mind, my heart, and then just disappear again. It hurts more than I can comprehend.
A tear rolls out of my eye and drops onto my cheek as Cody jams the gun into the soft spot beneath my jaw, the cold metal digging into my flesh so that I can practically taste it. Thecoppery scent of metal and blood pervades the air, and I close my eyes, refusing to see the joy in Cody's eyes as he pulls that trigger. I don't want him to think that I'm crying for him, for fear of losing my life at his hands. That fear settled a long time ago, and he doesn't deserve the satisfaction of thinking he's brought that out of me.
"Look at me, Ivy. I want you to see your husband do what he should have done a long time ago."
I grind my jaw together, refusing to let the sob in my chest loose. When I open my eyes, I stare at him without seeing him, appraising the hatred. So, we've moved past apathy, finally. But this doesn't feel good the way it did coming from them. This feels malignant, gritty, gross. "Good. Now open your mouth."
Motion from my peripherals catches my attention, and I can't stop my eyes from flickering to follow it. Thankfully Cody doesn't seem to notice. He's too busy prying my lips apart, his fingers pushing past my teeth to part my jaw enough for him to shove the barrel inside.
There's nothing tantalizing or sexy about it this time. Even as certain as I was back then that Killian was capable of pulling the trigger and dealing with the aftermath, I didn't fear him the way I should have. But this isn't blunted by my adoration for him, because this isn't Killian or Monty or Theo. This is Cody, and I hate him. I hate him unlike I've ever hated anyone, and I didn't even realize how much until this very second.
And finally I understand. Giving hate feels good... so good that the fear in me evaporates, leaving me with nothing but the hate I have for him. And as Monty steps up behind Cody with the axe, I crave violence unlike I've ever wanted anything before. I yearn to see that blade sink into his skull, to hear the crunch as it cracks the bone, to see his blood run down his face like all the tears I've ever cried.
That's another thing I understand now. Killian's need for violence, blood. The need to kill.
When I killed Uncle Vitoli, it was out of desperation. Nothing about that day had felt like this.
I don't know if Cody senses someone behind him or if he sees it in my eyes, but the vitriol on his face disappears a half second before the gun.
He turns just as Monty is bringing the axe down.
Chapter thirty-six
Killian
"I'm fine!" I growl, shoving Theo off of me and pushing past him to get back into the cabin. I only let him bring me out here so I could assess his wound. It was impossible to see under all the blood and so close to his temple, I had to assure he hadn't nicked anything crucial. But it's a graze wound; the tip of his ear is missing, which he took surprisingly well. The bullet got us both, dumb fucking luck on Cody's part, but the injuries are minor. But now I'm pissed, even more than I was before, and I'm going to absolutely eviscerate her stupid fucking husband.
"You can't help her if you die." Theo snaps, jerking me back. "You were shot!"
"It's a flesh wound!" I push past him, through the still-open door, and freeze when I take in the scene... Monty lying on the ground, next to a severed arm, which clearly belongs to Cody. The doctor is on his knees, what's left of his arm tucked against his chest as he wails without making noise. Tears and snot and spit roll from his scarlet face down to the ground he's rocking back and forth upon. And in the middle of it all, her hands wrapped around the axe still dripping with blood, is Ivy.
My freeze lasts for a fraction of a second before I run to Monty, dropping to my knees to see that he's very much alive. The bullet caught him in the leg, by the looks of it, but he manages to sit as I attend to him.
"What the fuck?" Theo demands, bewildered as I am about how quickly that all unraveled.
"I'm fine." Monty grits out, pushing my hands away from him. "Fucker is stronger than he looks. Quicker too. He got the shot off before I could get out of the way. It's fine, I've had worse."
I already know he's had worse. Working in the shop the way he does, he's prone to danger. But I say nothing as I grab the gun that Cody abandoned when Monty got him with the axe. "We should chop off the other one, too." I say, looking at her pathetic husband, who doesn't seem to hear what I'm saying. "In fact, maybe we should remove every part of him that touched our girl. What do you think, Bambi? Give me the axe."
"No." Ivy shakes her head, but she doesn't look up at me. She simply tightens her grip on the handle and hefts the axe over her shoulder, like she's waiting for one of us to strike.
"Poison..." Monty huffs, trying to get her attention. "It's okay."
"Give me the axe, Tiger Lily." Theo steps closer to her slowly, careful to keep an eye on her. Last time, she couldn't bring herself to do it, but after everything we did to her tonight, I can't tell if she'd swing at us or not. "You're gonna hurt yourself."
"No." She shakes her head, and then her eyes flit up to mine. "Killian was right."
"About what?" Theo's voice is full of caution, as is each step he takes toward her. She isn't paying attention to him, her eyes on me so that I can see the resolve there.
"I'm a killer." Her eyes track to Cody, who seems to be in shock, still clutching his arm as if none of us are here. Given that he nearly died once already, it's no big surprise. He lost a lot of blood to start, and apparently cauterized his own wound whenwe were out, if the burn mark through his shirt is any indication. He has quite the will to live, apparently.
"Own it." I tell her, nodding at her husband. "Own who you are."
