Page 114 of Scavenger's Oath

The truth in him.

He killedfor me. This violent, furious,brokenman would tear the sky down just to keep my heartbeat going. He would sacrifice his own safety and even his life…for me.

He kneels again and holds out his arm like a soldier surrendering his weapon. I pull on my torn shirt until I get a strip free and wrap it firmly over the deep wound.

My chest slowly unclenches in waves as I rip another piece of my shirt, repeating the bind and watching for the bleeding to stop.

Exhaling my relief, I feel a smile lift my cheeks and look up at him to find him watching me with a heartbroken expression.

I reach out, grabbing his shirt and I drag him down until our foreheads touch. “Myles,” I breathe.

He flinches like my voice is the only thing that can cut him deeper than what just happened. But he doesn't pull away.

Something in him shatters and he relaxes into the hold. His hands gently slide into my hair like the contact is keeping him breathing.

“I thought they had you. I thought… I thought I was too late and they…” his words cut off with a gasp. “Ivy, your head!” His fingers slide cautiously over a large lump swelling on the back of my skull. “Fuck… no. I can't lose you.”

“It’s just a bump. I’m not dying,” I brush his hands away from the painful swelling. “I’ll be fine, Myles. I’m here. I’m okay. You came for me, Myles. You… you saved me.”

The reality that I was never hoping to be saved, hits me like a landslide. Hope was a luxury I could never afford.

My heart breaks for the years I lived withoutbelieving there was any other life for me. Anything different than abuse, fear and pain. No one was ever coming to save me.

But he came.

His brow dips and he exhales a short breath. “Of course I did. You'remine.”

Something inside me breaks wide open.

And God help me, I want that. I want him. All of him—the blood, the rage, the ruin.

To behis.

Chapter 38

Myles

Her scream is still ringing in my fucking skull.

I can't get it out. Can't breathe around it.

It's like the sound tore something loose in me, something I can't put back.

She's curled up on my bed, covered by a blanket. Her shirt’s torn, one sleeve hanging by a thread and her face is already bruising, dark and violent.

I failed her.

She needed me and I let her down.

I was right here. In the goddamn building when they came through the door. But I couldn’t get to her quick enough.

When she finally screamed, I was already in the doorway, too late to stop what I saw.

My hands won't stop shaking. Blood’s drying on my skin and under my nails, but I can't bring myself to clean it off. It feels like penance.

I'm on the edge of the bed, my back to her. I can't even look at her without wanting to break everything in this fucking room.

“I should’ve been there,” I rasp. “Before they touched you. Before they even looked at you.”