Page 59

Ivy took a deep breath, her gaze never wavering. "I'm not afraid," she said, her voice strong. "I want to see you, Vice. The real you."

He stepped closer, his masked face so near hers that she could feel his warm breath. "The real me," he murmured, his eyes searching hers, "is something you couldn't possibly handle." With a suddenness that took her breath away.

Vice released her wrists and strode away from her, his booted footsteps echoing down the cold, stone hallway. Ivy watched him go, her heart racing in a tumult of fear and hope. She knew she had taken a risk, but she had to try. She had to believe that there was more to him than just the monster he portrayed to the world.

Vice found himself in front of the kitchen door, his hand hovering over the handle. His mind raced with doubt and anger. Was she lying to him? Playing another one of her games? He pushed the door open and stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room. The kitchen was spotless, as if no one had been there.

He searched through the cabinets and pantries, looking for any sign of the supposed cake she had mentioned. Nothing. The rage that had been simmering inside him began to boil over. He was going to make her pay for this betrayal.

The kitchen staff cowered in the corner; fear etched on their faces as he slammed pots and pans to the ground. "Where is it?" he roared, his eyes scanning the room. "Vice, please," one of them stammered. "We don't know." His eyes narrowed, and he slammed his fist onto the countertop.

Vice stormed back to the dining hall, his fury a living entity that seemed to pulse through the very air around him. Ivy watched him come, her heart racing. She had seen this side of him before, the side that was unpredictable and terrifying.

"Where is it?" he bellowed, his eyes sweeping the room. "The cake you claim you made for me?"

Ivy's heart sank; she didn’t think she hid it that well. "Vice," she began, her voice trembling. "I didn't mean to—"

He cut her off with a furious roar, slamming his fist into the table so hard it cracked. "Don't lie to me, Ivy!" The room seemed to shake with his rage. "You're playing with fire, and you're going to get burned."

Ivy's eyes searched his, desperation and a hint of anger mixing with the fear. "Vice, I'm not lying," she insisted, her voice shaking. "I made you one, it's in the bread box."

He stalked towards her, his eyes like two black holes threatening to swallow her whole. "You expect me to believe that?" he sneered.

Ivy's heart raced as she backed away, her eyes darting around the room for an escape. She knew she had pushed him too far, but she had hoped the gesture of the cake would be enough to placate him. "It's true," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Please, just look."

Vice's grip on Ivy's wrist was like a vice, his rage palpable as he dragged her through the castle's corridors. The sound of her desperate pleas filled the air, echoing off the stone walls. "Vice, please," she sobbed, her voice strained with pain. "you're hurting me."

He didn't stop, his long strides punctuating his fury. "For you're sake, Ivy," he snarled, "you better be telling the truth."

The bread box was in the corner of the kitchen, a simple wooden contraption that seemed out of place in the grandeur of the castle. Vice yanked it open with a snarl, expecting to find nothing but stale bread. But there it was, a small, cake with candles atop, the icing vanilla with a Happy Birthday message written on it. The sight of it hit him like a punch to the gut. He hadn’t had a birthday cake in thirty-eight years.

For a moment, his rage wavered, his breath catching in his throat. Then, with a roar, he swept the cake off the counter and onto the floor. "You think this changes anything?" he shouted, his eyes wild with fury. "You think a cake can change me?"

Ivy watched in horror as the cake fell to the stone tiles, tears streaming down her face. "Vice," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I just wanted to do something nice for you."

He rounded on her, his eyes burning with anger. "You think you can just play with my emotions,” he snarled, his grip on her wrist tightening. “And get away with it?” Her eyes searched his face, a silent plea for understanding. “I’m not playing with you," she whispered, her voice shaking. “That’s not why I did this. I just wanted to make you're birthday special."

He yanked her closer to him, his eyes unyielding. "Special," he sneered, his voice low and menacing. "You think you can just waltz in here make me a cake and expect me to forget what you are?"

Ivy's voice was barely a whisper as she stared up at him, tears streaming down her face. "What am I, Vice?" she asked, her eyes searching his. "Oh that’s right, I’m a tool to be used, right?"

Vice paused, his grip on her wrist loosening slightly. "You're……. complicated," he growled, his eyes never leaving hers. "You make me feel things, things I’ve never felt."

“Vice I’m not lying to you,” she took a shaky breath, her eyes never leaving his. "And I’m not trying to change you."

As he looked into her eyes, the weight of her words settled upon him. "I'm not here to change you or to fix you," she whispered, her voice low and sweet. The words hung in the air like a promise.

Her eyes burning with an intensity that left him breathless. "That's not my role," she continued, her words dripping with conviction. "You have to make that choice yourself."

His eyes searched her face, looking for any sign of hesitation, of doubt. But her eyes were steady, her jaw set in a determined line. "It's not my place to decide who you are," she said, her voice firm. "That’s you're choice, and yours alone."

Her hand brushed against his, a gentle touch that sent a jolt of electricity through him. It was a moment of intimacy, of connection, that left both wanting more. "I want you as you are," she said, her eyes locked on his. "With all you're flaws and darkness."

"If you want to change," she said, her voice low and husky, "that's you're decision. But I'm not going to try and make you. You're free to choose who you want to be; I'm here to support you, not to alter you." She stepped closer, her body pressed into his.

Vice's expression remained unreadable, but she could see the turmoil in his eyes. "Do you think that I want to change?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Ivy took a deep breath, her heart pounded. "I don't know," she admitted, her voice shaking. "But it doesn’t matter because I accept you either way."