Page 16 of Fractured Loyalties

Sixteen

IVY

“Can’t I just get dinner sent to my room?” I stand at the threshold of the kitchen, staring up at Edward, who looks at me in amusement. I’m still in my school uniform. I’m still wired from Kade’s disappearance, both digitally and physically.

“Mr. Woods requested the whole family be at the table this evening.” His tone is flat, but there’s something about the way he’s looking at me, not really looking at me, that bothers me.

“Fine,” I mutter under my breath, slipping past him and into the dining room. The room is empty, except for the placed settings for four, already ready with food.

Ugh.

I pick the seat facing the door in the middle of the table and stare at the plate across from me. Freaking Roman.

Irena floats in a few beats later, a glass of water balanced in her hand.

She doesn’t look at me as she sits, only smooths the linen napkin in her lap and begins to read the folder of mail sitting beside her place.

I hear the papery whisper of her fingers as she sorts, discards, sorts, and discards.

I shift my eyes to my own plate. The food is beautiful, and arranged with a precision I don’t even understand. I don’t want any of it, but the chances of me getting out of this family dinner are next to none.

“You can eat,” Irena says, startling me sideways. “I’m sure Robert and Roman will be late. They always are. You’ll learn not to wait.”

I make some sort of agreeable noise and then pick up my fork, scooting around the asparagus. My heart thumps unevenly in my chest as my mind tries to run back to the still-missing Kade.

At least I made a friend today. Tess is cool. Hopefully, she doesn’t go missing, as well.

I wince at the intrusive thought.

Robert enters right as I take my first bite of chicken, but I make it a point to remain fully engrossed with my food. Roman is still missing from the table, and I have no idea whether to be relieved or worried.

“Ivy,” Robert clears his throat, finally catching my eye as he sets his napkin across his lap. “How was school today?”

“Um…” The question knocks me off guard, and for a moment, I forget that I know how to speak at all. “It was… okay. We had a chemistry test. I think I did alright, given I haven’t been there for most of the semester.”

He inclines his head as if considering this, then pours himself a glass of wine. Edward retreats from the room, leaving the three of us in the echo chamber of crystal and clinking cutlery.

“You know, I ran into Mrs. Valdez today at the club. She said your uniform looked positively tragic your first day,” Irena laughs lightly, as if the dress code violation didn’t permanently scar me. She sips her water, then sets it down with a click. “I’m glad we fixed that.”

I glance up, trying to read her face. I can’t tell if she’s trying to be cruel or funny. With Irena, I’m not even sure there’s a line between the two.

Robert’s eyes flick to me, appraising. “It happens. I think it’s probably time for us to make some changes.”

I blink at him, once again unsure how to read these two people. “Okay…” I eye the door, still waiting for Roman to show up.

Please tell me he’s not missing, too.

“You need a proper wardrobe,” Robert says, voice dropping lower, almost gentle. “Something that fits how you want to be seen as in this community. Something that makes people understand that you are a Woods, even if only by marriage.”

My heart trips over itself. For a second, I think he’s making fun of me, but then I realize there’s a softness to his words that wasn’t there before.

Does he actually mean it?

Irena turns toward me, and for the first time all evening, her hand finds my arm. The touch is brief but electric. “I’ll take you shopping after school tomorrow,” she says. “We’ll find you something perfect. It will be… fun.” Her lips curl in what might be a smile, but I can’t trust my own eyes.

I sit there frozen, my fork still halfway to my mouth, not sure how to respond. My throat feels tight. “Um, thank you. That would be nice, I think.”

Irena gives my arm the lightest squeeze and then lets go. Robert nods, satisfied, and returns to his meal.

I try to eat, but my stomach is suddenly churning with nerves. I almost feel as if I’m waiting for the punchline of a joke that isn’t coming.

And again… Where is Roman? Why doesn’t he have to be here? Is he…okay? Why do I care?

I finish my dinner in silence, forcing myself to eat about sixty percent of the food on my plate. Then, I fold my napkin, take a drink of water, and sigh.

When I look up, both Irena and Robert are watching me. Not with pity, not even with contempt, but with something like approval.

“If you’re finished,” Irena smiles. “You may go.”

I nod and then stand, my knees nearly buckling as I clear my throat. “Thank you,” I say again. “I really appreciate it.”

Robert grunts, but there’s a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Irena rises, too, and brushes invisible crumbs from her skirt. She tilts her head at me, almost conspiratorial.

“It will be fun to go shopping tomorrow,” she repeats. “You’ll see.”

I nod one more time, and then slip from the room, trying to figure out what the hell was happening at dinner… And why Roman’s absence was just… ignored . I mean, hadn’t Edward said Robert wanted it to be a family dinner?

As I scamper toward my room, I hear the muffled echo of Robert’s laugh behind me, profound and surprising. In the empty hallway, I let myself breathe. I’m still not sure if they’re playing a cruel trick on me or actually trying to be kind.

I don’t like confusion.

And you know what? I still don’t like it hours later, when I’m lying in my bed. I still can’t stop replaying that moment at dinner when Irena’s hand squeezed my arm—almost as if she meant it—and the way Robert’s voice lost its edge, even if it was only for a sentence.

Why are they suddenly being nice? Did Roman get kicked out of the family?

I turn it over and over, looking for the catch, the hidden blade. Maybe it’s just a survival instinct, or perhaps I’m not ready to trust them. I don’t know.

But I know that the more I think about it, the more I think about Roman… And what he did. To me. In the library.

No. Nope. You do not have to think about that, Ivy. We can just pretend it never happened.

I force my brain to slow down. The world outside the window is silent, and my mind needs to just freaking join in the party.

So, I shut my eyes, try to count sheep to the slow ticking of the clock down the hall. Surprisingly, the tactic actually works. I’m so freaking overwhelmed and stressed that my body is soon drowning in fatigue.

My eyes grow heavy, my breathing slows, and the sheep fade…

Until I hear something.

My eyes flicker wide open, and pinpricks sneak down my arms. I tune my ear to the sounds of the room, waiting and listening.

For a long moment, nothing happens—my pulse thuds at my temple. I’m about to chalk it up to a mouse outside my door or something when I hear an unmistakable sound—the slow, careful turn of my doorknob.

What. The. Fuck.

It moves with the tiniest creak, and then it swings open just a few inches. Enough for a sliver of hallway light to cut across the floor, and enough for me to see the silhouette in the doorway.

My entire body goes rigid.

The figure doesn’t move. It just stands there, filling the space with a wrongness that makes my skin crawl. I can’t see a face, just a shadow backlit by gold from the hallway sconces.

It doesn’t say anything. It doesn’t take a step. It just… watches .

I want to fucking scream. I want to throw something at it. But there’s only one person I know it could be, and I absolutely do not want to let him know anything I’m feeling.

“Leave me the hell alone, Roman,” I say, my voice sharper and bolder than I expected it to be.

The figure doesn’t answer.

Instead, it leans an inch further into the room, as if testing the air for movement or something—like a freaking ghost.

“Roman, if you’re trying to scare me, it’s not funny.” I push the words out, hardening them with anger. “I’m serious, get the hell out of my room.”

Still, nothing.

I shove the sheets off, forcing my legs to swing over the edge of the bed. The movement must jolt something in the watcher, because they take a single step back, and then another. It’s still slow, as if they’re not quite sure whether they should leave or stay and finish what they came to do.

“Fuck off, Roman,” I try again, raising my voice.

The silhouette just tilts its head—just a fraction, but enough to make me want to claw out of my own skin.

Fucking mockery.

I reach for my phone, my thumb hovering over the flashlight function, but that movement sends the person running. They slip into the hallway, closing the door behind them with a gentleness that makes my stomach churn.

I sit there for a long time, holding my breath and waiting for the door to creak again, for the figure to return and finish whatever they were going to do.

But nothing happens. The room stays quiet.

The only proof that anything happened at all is the sweat slick on my forehead and the way my heart keeps hammering, refusing to be soothed.

He’s probably waiting outside and planning to scare me or something.

That has me on my feet, frustrated. My knees feel weak as I tiptoe to the door, pressing my palm to the cold wood. I listen, counting off seconds in my head, but the house is perfectly still.

I crack the door just an inch. The hallway is empty, the floors immaculate, the sconces lit in their usual pattern. There’s no sign of Roman, no sign of anyone.

What the fuck?

I slam the door shut and lock it. I back away from it, not turning my back until I’m under the covers again.

“Always lock your door, Ivy,” I hear Roman’s warning in my head.

Now I can’t sleep. I can’t even close my eyes.

Instead, I stare at the door and try to remember if Roman’s shadow ever looked like that. Could it have been a house staff member playing a prank? Could Roman have just put them up to it to scare me?

That would make sense. He is an asshole.

But no matter who it was, someone came to watch me…

And that’s unsettling enough.