Page 186 of Scavenger's Oath

Our little spitfire, Skye, is a blur beside her. Wild, bare-footed, her dark curls bouncing with every step as she races Noah, my sister’s youngest.

He’s two years older, and faster, but Skye’s fierce. She doesn’t let anything slow her down.

Ivy glances over her shoulder as they run, calling out a half-hearted warning that neither kid listens to.

Myles is crouched next to her, one hand on Ivy’s swollen belly, the other curled around her ankle like he’s afraid she might float away if he lets go. He whispers something that makes her laugh, her head tipping back and her fingers curling in his hair.

Zane steps up beside me, arms crossed as he watches the field. “He’s been like that all week,” he murmurs. “Every time she stands up, he rushes to her side like she’s about to give birth in the grass.”

“Because he thinks he knocked her up this time,” I grunt.

Zane’s mouth twitches. “Fat chance. My method was flawless.”

A puff of air escapes my lungs as I roll my eyes.

By ‘methods’ he means a turkey baster.

I watched him do it one morning. He literally just jerks into a cup and shoots it into her immediately. There’s zero point to the baster. Especially when he fucks her again straight after their ritual.

I think he just likes stuffing her with weird objects. Which happens to couple perfectly with his new-found breeding kink.

“Genetics don’t give a shit about effort.” I mutter.

Zane shrugs. “My genes are stronger than his.”

“Mine are meaner,” I deadpan.

Myles finally breaks away from Ivy, swaggering toward us like he just won the lottery.

He glances back at the kids as he speaks. “Look at her,” Myles says, nodding toward the chaos in the field. “Climbing trees, beating that poor kid in a race. That’s my girl.”

The corner of Zane’s mouth lifts. “You sure? She’s got my eyes,” he taunts.

“And my scowl,” I add, chuckling.

Myles shrugs, smug as hell. “All I’m saying is, she’s got spirit. And she’s tough. Definitely mine.”

Zane eyes Myles like he’s stupid. “She eats berries one at a time and gets real quiet when she’s thinking. That’s all Ivy… and Ivy’s mostly mine.”

I raise a brow. “You wanna test that theory? Go tell Skye not to climb the fence. See who she listens to.”

Myles laughs, loud and cocky. “You know she’s got Ivy’s attitude. She’ll ignore all three of us.”

I let myself smile at that. Because it’s true.

Ivy always had spunk hidden under years of trauma, but she found a confidence I never knew was in her. Though she still carries the scars of everything that happened to her, she rebuilt herself stronger.

It took us weeks of solid driving to get out to the Ranch. We hit a lot of trouble and had to make numerous detours to lose the group tailing us. But the truck held strong. Myles did a damn good job with it.

Ivy hated every second of the nomadic life and it took me a while to learn that being overbearing was only making her fight me harder. I kept trying to put her in her place, but she was relentless.

Finally, I figured out I couldn’t deal with her bratty side the same way I did with Myles’s. After that, she was less combative and her response to danger got better.

But looking back across the field, I still feel that old tension coiling in my gut.

Not fear exactly. Just a sharp, burning protectiveness that never really died down. Not when you’ve seen what the world does to girls without monsters like us standing between them and the darkness.

And especially not when there’s a boy involved.