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Ivy stepped back, her eyes searching his, looking for a hint of the man she thought she knew. "But you don't have to be like this, Vice."

Vice scoffed, his eyes flashing with anger. "Like what?"

"You know what," Ivy said, her voice firm, her gaze unyielding. "The way you saved James. The way you've been treating me. It's not just about the deal anymore, is it?"

Vice's eyes narrowed, his jaw set. "What are you talking about?"

"The way you look at me sometimes, when you think I’m not looking," Ivy said softly. "The way you talk to me. It's like you're trying to protect me, not just keep me as a bargaining chip."

Vice's expression grew thunderous, his grip on the bow tightening until his knuckles turned white. "You're reading too much into it," he spat out, his voice gruff and dismissive. "You're just a means to an end, Ivy. Don't think there's anything more to it." Ivy started to walk away.

Vice's eyes followed her, his gaze piercing through the shadows of the courtyard. "Where do you think you're going?" His words came out like a demand, a harsh whisper that slices through the silence.

Ivy doesn't look back. She can't. If she does, he'll see the hurt in her eyes, the pain that his dismissal has caused. She tries to keep her steps even, her breathing calm, but her heart feels like it's racing in her chest, thundering in her ears.

Vice is on her in an instant, his hand shooting out to grab her by the throat, spinning her around to face him.

His grip is firm, his eyes like ice as they bore into hers.

He slams her against the cold stone wall, the impact knocking the wind out of her.

"I asked you a question, Ivy," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.

Ivy gasps, her hands flying to his wrist, trying to pry his grip away. Panic started to set in, her eyes wide and frantic as she tries to breathe. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound comes out.

Vice's eyes narrow, his grip tightening. "Don't walk away from me," he snarls, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

Ivy's eyes water, her nails digging into his skin, trying to find the strength to push him away. "Let... go of me," she chokes out, her voice hoarse and strained.

Vice searches her face, the storm clouds in his gaze swirling with something Ivy can't quite read. For a moment, it seems like he's about to release her, to step back and let her go.

But instead, he pulls her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb brushing against her cheekbone. "You don't get to walk away from this," he says, his voice a harsh whisper that sends a shiver down her spine.

Ivy's eyes flicker with anger and defiance, and she reaches up to grip his wrist with both hands, trying to pry it away from her throat. "You don't get to decide that." she croaks, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vice's eyes widen in surprise, the intensity of his grip lessening slightly. He stares at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a snarl of frustration, he releases her, stepping back.

Ivy gasps for air, her hand flying to her throat, rubbing at the red marks his fingers left behind. She coughs, her eyes watering, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she spits out, her voice hoarse.

Vice turns away, his shoulders tense, his back to her. "You," he says, his voice filled with a mix of anger and something else, something softer that Ivy can't quite identify. "You're what's wrong with me."

The silence that follows is thick and heavy, a living thing that seems to fill the space between them. Ivy's heart is racing, her chest heaving with the effort to breathe normally. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, but the words get caught in her throat.

Vice turns back to her, his face a mask of cold indifference. "You're the distraction," he says, his voice flat. "And I can't afford distractions."

Ivy's eyes flash with anger, the warmth of their earlier conversation forgotten. "So that's all this is to you?" she asks, her voice shaking. "A distraction?"

Vice's eyes meet hers, and for a split second, she sees something flicker in the depths, something that makes her stomach clench. But then it's gone, and he's back to being the cold, calculated villain she's come to know. "Seems you're losing our little game" he says, his tone mocking.

The air between them is electric, crackling with tension and unspoken words. Ivy's mind races, trying to make sense of the man before her, the man who's held her so tenderly and yet just a moment ago had his hand around her throat.

"Vice, I'm not a game," she says, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. "I'm a person, with a life, a daughter, and a heart that beats."

Vice laughs, a cold, harsh sound that sends a shiver down her spine. "Don't fool yourself, Ivy," he says, turning away from her again. "You're a piece on my board, a pawn to be moved to get what I want."

Ivy's eyes narrow, the anger in her voice growing stronger. "And what is it that you want, exactly?"

"That's none of you're concern, remember you're place, Ivy." he spits at her.

"Okay," she replied, a cold look on her face, the word dripping with sarcasm. "I'll just be you're little whore, then." She turns away from him, her eyes on the horizon.

Vice's jaw tightens at her words, his eyes flashing with a rage that's been simmering just beneath the surface. "Don't push me," he says, his voice a warning.

But Ivy isn't one to back down easily. She turns to face him, her eyes blazing with defiance. "Or what?" she repeats, her voice strong despite the tremble in her chest. "What will you do to me that you haven't already done?"

Vice takes a step closer to her, his eyes never leaving hers. He can see the challenge in her gaze, the determination to not be pushed around. He's both impressed and infuriated by it. He opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off.

"You don’t scare me anymore, Vice," she said, her finger pointed at him, her voice steady. "You’ve put me through hell and back, and I'm still standing here. So, go ahead,” she said, her hand gestured towards him. “It can't be any worse than what you’ve already put me threw."

Vice's eyes narrow, his jaw clenching at her audacity. He stepped closer to her, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "You think you've seen hell?" he asked, his voice a low growl. "You haven't seen anything yet."

The threat hangs in the air, but Ivy refuses to back down. She raises her chin; her eyes locked onto his. "I've seen enough to know that you're not going to break me," she says, her voice firm.

Vice's eyes flickered with something that might have been admiration before his expression turned cold. "Is that so?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm.

Ivy just stared at him, her gaze unwavering. "Yes," she said, her voice steady. "You can keep me here, you can use me, but you won't break me."

Vice narrowed his eyes and furrowed his brows; he takes another step closer. "And why is that, Ivy?" His voice is a whisper, a caress of danger that sends goosebumps across her skin.

Ivy’s eyes widen as she looks him up and down quickly, she swallowed hard, her heart hammered in her chest, but she stood her ground.

"Because it's the only thing I have left of me, that no one's been able to take," she said, her voice thick with pain and sadness that coats the words like a fine layer of dust. Her eyes never leave his.

Vice's gaze holds hers, his eyes searching for a crack in her armor, a weakness to exploit.

But all he sees is the fiery determination that burns in her soul.

He can't help but be drawn to it, like a moth to a flame.

For a moment, he's tempted to reach out to her, to offer some sort of comfort, but he stops himself.

He can't let her get under his skin. He's the villain here, not the hero.

He backs away, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Your strength is admirable," he says, his voice tight. "But it won't save you from you're fate."

Ivy's heart sinks, but she keeps her chin up. "And what is my fate, exactly?"

Vice sneers, "Your fate is to serve you're purpose, as agreed upon. Do not think that because we've shared a few moments of... whatever this is, that it changes anything."

Ivy's eyes flicker with hurt, but she quickly masks it with anger. "You're pathetic," she spat back, her voice filled with venom. "A man so consumed by his own power that he can't even see the humanity in the people around him."

Vice's eyes darken at her words, his fists clenching tighter. "I don't need to see you're humanity," he snapped. "You're just a tool to get what I want."

But there's something in the way he said it that didn’t quite ring true. Ivy saw the conflict in his gaze, the battle between the monster he's become and the man he might have been. For a brief moment, she feels a spark of hope.

"Vice," she said softly, taking a tentative step toward him. "Why do you deny yourself happiness Vice?"

He turns to face her, his expression unreadable. "What makes you think I want happiness?"

Her eyes search his, looking for any sign of softness. "Because everyone does," she said. Her voice filled with a quiet conviction. "Even monsters have feelings."

Vice's gaze hardens, his eyes flashing with something that might have been pain. "I'm not looking for happiness, Ivy," he says, his voice cold and final. "I'm looking for power. For control. That's all that matters."

But Ivy can see through his words, the armor he's so carefully constructed around himself.

She takes another step closer, her voice soft and earnest. "That's bullshit, and you know it.

You may want those things, but deep down, you want happiness too.

But you're so afraid of it, you've convinced yourself that you don't deserve it. "