Page 55 of Gravehouse

Moving to his luggage, he grabs one of his shirts. “Arms.”

I obey without thinking as he tugs it over my head like I’m five years old, before pulling back the covers.

His brow lifts. “In.”

I push up onto my elbows. “I’m not?—“

He glares. “Get in the fucking bed, Ivy.”

I slide between the sheets, curling into myself, knees drawn tight.

Don’t cry. Don’t you dare.

Asher climbs in and hauls me back against his chest. His arm locks across my ribs before I can even think to protest.

“What happens now?” His mouth moves against the back of my neck. “With Nonna.”

I sniffle, the fight draining out of my body. “There’s protocol.”

“Protocol.” His tone goes flat. I know it’s because he’s trying to make sense of my choice of words.

“Yeah.” I stare into the dark. “And it’s absolute.” Pause. “Even if we don’t want to...”

He doesn’t move, but his thumb circles my arm. “Wanna explain?”

My spine goes rigid. “I can’t.”

Not won’t. Can’t.The Codex doesn’t allow it. Emeric’s rules, and they’re carved into my back. Literally.

His arm tightens around me. “Ivy?—”

“Please.” My throat works around it. “Just... not tonight.”

He’s quiet for a long moment. Then his grip tightens, pulling me closer. “Okay.”

I wait for more questions, more demands. They don’t come. Just his steady breathing, his heartbeat against my spine, the weight of his arm holding me while everything else falls apart.

His breathing evens out first. Sleep taking him in increments.

I count to three hundred. Then three hundred more.

When I’m certain he’s under, I slide out from beneath his arm.

He shifts but doesn’t wake.

I change quickly, black pants, black thermal, boots that don’t make sound. My hair gets twisted into a knot at the base of my skull. The Desert Eagle slips into its holster at my hip.

When I duck out into the dark hallway, I know which floorboards creak, and which ones stay silent as I guide myself down the stairs, through the kitchen, and towards the back room where we always gathered for the things that couldn’t be said in daylight.

Jord’s already leaning against the wall, arms crossed, face red from crying, and Luce sits on the old trunk, hands folded in her lap.

Punk shifts from the windowsill, teal hair catching where the moonlight spills in near Leon, who’s guarding the door.

Daniel’s eyes land on me, features softening even as the rest of him stays locked and ready for a fight.

“Took you long enough.” Jord drags the back of his hand across his eyes. “Are goodbyes harder when you can’t just shoot him?”

“Shut up!” My jaw clenches, but the anger drains out of me instantly and my frown drops.