---- Chapter 6 Ivy Farley POV: Holden was out of the room before the locket had even stopped spinning on the floor. He moved with a predator's silence and speed, a dark shape against the sterile white of the hospital. His eyes, fixed on me, were unreadable. He saw the locket at my feet, then his gaze traveled up to my face. He saw the devastation there, the raw, open wound of his betrayal. A blade appeared in his hand, moving so fast it was a silver blur. It wasn't aimed at me. It flew past my head, missing me by a whisper, and embedded itself deep into the wooden doorframe behind me with a solid thunk. A warning. A message. "Are you hurt?" His voice was low, laced with a concern that was so automatic, so deeply ingrained, it was insulting. | didn't answer. | couldn't. My throat was tight with unshed tears and unspoken rage. | moved then, my own blade in my hand before he could even register the motion. | didn't throw it. | lunged forward, the point of my knife digging into the thick, ropy scar tissue on his back-the very scar he had earned protecting me. ---- He grunted in pain, his body stiffening. He didn't turn around. He didn't try to fight back. Blood, dark and hot, soaked through the fine material of his shirt, blooming like a morbid flower. It ran down his back, a fresh wound laid over an old one. He used to tell me that scar was a testament to our survival, a symbol of his devotion. Now, | had marked it with my own brand of betrayal. His hands came up, not to defend himself, but to gently cup my face. Even with my knife in his back, his first instinct was to protect me from myself. "Ivy, stop," he murmured, his breath warm against my skin. My composure finally shattered. Tears streamed down my face, hot and furious. "Did you ever love him?" | choked out, the words tearing at my throat. "Our son. Did he mean anything to you at all? Or was he just... a flawed prototype you were ready to discard?" He closed his eyes, a muscle feathering in his jaw. He didn't deny it. The silence was his confession. He let the knife stay where it was, a willing penance. The sight of his blood, of his silent suffering, did nothing to soothe the inferno in my soul. "HOLDEN!" Kaela's shriek came from the room. She appeared in the doorway, her face contorted with rage, a hospital IV stand clutched in her hands like a weapon. She swung it wildly at me. ---- | kicked her leg out from under her without a second thought. She went down in a heap, the IV stand crashing to the floor. | was on her in an instant, the tip of my bloody knife pressed against her throat. + "You," | snarled, my face inches from hers, "are going to die." She whimpered, her eyes wide with terror. "Ivy! Get off of her!" Holden's voice was a whip crack. He had finally pulled the knife from his back and was stalking towards us, his face a mask of cold fury. This time, there was no concern, no flicker of the man | once loved. There was only the king of the underworld, protecting his chosen queen. "Stay back, Holden," | warned, pressing the knife harder against Kaela's skin, drawing a thin line of blood. "You're a fool if you think I'd choose you over her," | spat, my words dripping with venom. "You want to rule alone? You want a legacy built on the bones of our family? Fine. But you won't have it with her." The threat was clear. | was going to kill her, right here, right in front of him. Suddenly, the hallway was filled with men. Holden's personal guard. They poured out of stairwells and elevators, their weapons all trained on me. A dozen red laser sights danced across my chest. | looked at the small army he had assembled. He had used ---- this kind of force only once before: when we had finally cornered and eliminated Geraldo Jones's top lieutenant. He was treating me like the enemy. Like a threat to be neutralized. Because of her. My heart, which | thought had already been shattered into irreparable pieces, somehow found a way to break even more. | was no longer his partner, his equal, his wife. | was just an obstacle. An obstacle he was now fully prepared to remove.