Page 57 of Torn Ivy
Suddenly, I’ve reached a point where I’m tired. Really fucking tired. I’ve been going on all cylinders for what feels like days now and I just want to close my eyes and wake up in last week where everything made sense.
Slamming my hands to my head to cut out the noise, the chatter of the creatures around me, I close my eyes with a moan, and crouch down.
“Ivy!” Tate’s voice cuts through the fog in my mind.
The world spins as I crouch there, hands pressed to my head. Everything’s too much - the revelations about Life and Death, the threat to Cathy, the weight of this new role I’m meant to play.
My power ebbs and flows in unpredictable patterns, causing the world around me to twist and distort in nauseating waves.
“Ivy, breathe,” Tate says. His hands are on my shoulders, trying to steady me. “Focus on my voice. Find your centre.”
I try, but it’s like grasping at smoke. Whatever burgeoning of understanding I had about balance feels distant, theoretical. In this moment, all I can feel is the overwhelming tide of chaos tearing me apart.
“I can’t,” I gasp. “It’s too much. I don’t know how to?—”
“Yes, you do,” Bram says firmly. He kneels beside me, his shadow magick wrapping around us like a cocoon. “You’ve been doing it all along. Every time you’ve found a third option, every time you’ve rejected false choices. That’s balance in action when you didn’t even realise it. You are stronger than this. Stronger than all of them. You are fucking Poison, a badass bitch who takes what we give her and begs for more. You are nobody’s puppet, Ivy. You are better than all of them.”
Torin joins us, his cold hand on my back under my tee sends chills over me. “Remember what you said about vampires existing between life and death? That’s you right now. You’re the bridge, the in-between. Embrace it.”
Their words penetrate the fog of overwhelm. I focus on their touch, on the way our energies intermingle. Tate’s steady anchor, Bram’s shadowy protection, Torin’s liminal nature.
Gradually, the chaos inside me begins to settle. Not disappearing but finding a state of equilibrium. I take a deep breath and open my eyes.
“There she is,” Torin says with a smirk. “Our badass bitch.”
I manage a weak smile. “Thanks, guys. I needed that.”
“Anytime,” Bram murmurs.
Standing slowly, I face the others. Josh and the Resistance members look concerned, but there’s no time for explanations.
“Right,” I say, my voice stronger now. “We need a plan. The Syndicate’s going after Cathy, and we can’t let that happen.”
“Agreed,” Tate says. “But we can’t just rush in blindly. If Life is influencing them now, we don’t know what we’re up against. We need a plan. Something that satisfies The Syndicate without actually harming Cathy.”
“Can we fake her death?” I ask slowly.
“It won’t be easy,” Eva warns. “They aren’t fools.”
Josh studies us thoughtfully. “It might work. But you’ll need inside help. Someone who knows exactly what The Syndicate will look for in a death confirmation.”
“Can The Resistance help with that?” I ask.
The unknown woman steps forward again. “That’s why I’m here. I’m Katie, a former Syndicate death validator. I know every protocol they use to confirm a kill.”
“A death validator?” Torin’s lip curls. “They really do bureaucratise everything, don’t they?”
“You have no idea,” Katie says dryly. “There are seventeen distinct protocols for confirming different types of supernatural deaths. They’ll expect specific markers.”
“What exactly do they need to see?” I force myself to ask. “I’ve never had this checklist before, and the vamps turn to dust, so how do they even check?” I never even thought about it before, but assumed they must know somehow. Maybe I didn’t want to know.
Katie begins listing requirements clinically, but I tune out. I don’t care. All I care about is fixing whatever mess I’ve been dumped into as fast as possible so I can finish at Thornfield and just go and live my life with my guys. The sooner that happens, the better.
That wave of exhaustion washes over me again, but I push it aside. There will be time to sleep later.
I tune back in as Bram says, “We need to be clever about this. The Syndicate expects chaos and destruction from Ivy. They’ll be watching for big, messy displays of power.”
“So, we give them subtle instead,” I say, an idea forming. “They’re so focused on protocols and procedures... what if we use that against them?”
