Page 76 of Wild Ivy
“You know nothing of control!” She launches herself at me, vampire speed making her almost blur. Almost.
I catch her wrist before her claws can reach my throat. The contact sends ice through to her veins.
“I know enough,” I say quietly, holding her in place as she struggles. “I know that real strength comes from bonds freely given, not forced through fear or manipulation. I know that true power grows stronger when it’s shared, not hoarded.”
“Foolish boy,” she spits, her face contorting with rage. “This girl will do nothing but cock up the universe. She has no idea the forces that are out there.”
“And you do? Who cares? It is what it is. Nothing can or will change it.”
Her other hand comes up, dark power gathering in her palm. But before she can strike, Ivy steps forward. The air itself seems to hold its breath.
“You’ve lost,” Ivy says. “Life is gone. Your bid for power failed. The only question now is whether you’ll accept that gracefully or force us to handle your assault?”
My mother’s laugh holds an edge of hysteria. “You think you can kill me? I’m ancient, girl. I’ve survived attempts on my life from beings far older and more powerful than you.”
“You haven’t survived me,” I say quietly. “Not yet.”
She stills in my grip, finally seeing what I’ve become. What we’ve all become. Her power is impressive by normal standards—centuries of accumulated strength and knowledge. But compared to what flows through us now? She might as well be a spark next to a forest fire.
“You wouldn’t,” she whispers, but there’s uncertainty in her voice now. “I’m your mother.”
“No. You never were,” I correct her.
“We’re giving you a choice,” Ivy says. “One last chance to walk away. To accept that your time of power is over.”
“And if I refuse?”
I squeeze her wrist tighter, feeling ancient bones creak under my grip. “Then you will find out that maybe some things are worse than death.”
For a moment, I think she’ll fight. Her power coils, ancient and deadly, ready to strike. But then something in her breaks. She knows she can’t win. Not against what we’ve become.
“Fine,” she spits, yanking her wrist free. “Keep your pathetic notions of family and loyalty. When it all falls apart, don’t come crawling back.”
“Trust me,” I say as she backs away, straightening her designer suit with trembling hands. “That won’t be a problem.”
She turns to leave, her dignity in tatters, but her spine still rigid. She pauses. “You could have been great, you know. Could have ruled beside me.”
“Ruled what? A measly little vampire coven that doesn’t even bear your name? No, thanks. Huge pass.”
She doesn’t respond, she just climbs back into the car, and it shoots off into the night.
“Well,” Tate says after a moment. “That was interesting. Do we trust her to stay out of it?”
“Yeah. I saw the dawning of understanding in her eyes. She knows she can’t come up against us. Doesn’t mean she won’t be a thorn to everyone else, though.”
“She will get what’s coming to her one day,” Ivy says. “Everyone always does. Even more so, now.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “I think that helps.”
“Always,” Ivy says simply.
“Now,” Tate claps his hands together, breaking the heavy moment. “Who’s ready to pack up and get the hell out of here?”
We head inside to gather our belongings, while Ivy heads back to the house she shared with Ramsey.
Something feels different now—lighter. It’s like confronting my mother finally broke some ancient chain I didn’t know was still binding me.
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