Page 25 of Saint’s Revenge

She freezes when she sees me awake. Glances at Lucas on the couch, still dead to the world, then puts a finger to her lips.

I nod slightly.

She crosses the room quietly, sets the tray on the small table beside the bed. Two sandwiches wrapped in paper. Two bottles of water. Simple but substantial.

She pulls a chair closer, moving it so she can keep one eye on the door. Old habit. The kind you develop when you've spent time in places where exits matter.

"I'm Ivy," she whispers. "Phoenix's old lady. Figured you'd be hungry when you woke up."

My stomach growls on cue. I can't remember the last time I ate. Yesterday morning? The day before? Time stopped meaning much after Daniel's fist connected with my face.

"Thanks," I whisper back.

She opens one of the water bottles, hands it to me. I take it but immediately realize I can't sit up enough to drink without help. Ivy must see it on my face because she reaches for the bed controls. "Let me adjust this. It'll hurt less than trying to move yourself."

The bed lifts slowly, bringing my upper body to a shallow incline. It still hurts but it's manageable. I bring the water to my lips and sip. Cool. Clean. Perfect.

Ivy unwraps one of the sandwiches while I drink. Turkey and cheese on wheat. Nothing fancy but my stomach doesn't care.

"Can you eat?" she asks.

"I can try."

She hands me the sandwich. I take a small bite, chew around my bruised jaw. Swallow. My stomach accepts it without complaint, so I take another. Ivy settles back in her chair, watching me with an expression I can't quite read. Not hostile. Not suspicious. Just... evaluating.

Then it clicks.

The auburn hair. The way she positions herself. The look in her eyes that says she knows exactly what it's like to be on the receiving end of violence.

"Wait," I say quietly. "I know you."

Ivy goes still. "What?"

"I've seen you before. Not just last night." I search through memories that are fragmented by pain and time. "The Vipers' clubhouse. You were there. With Cole Briggs."

Her entire body tenses. For a second I think she might bolt. Then her shoulders drop slightly and she nods.

"Yeah. I was there. For two years."

The pieces fall into place. The woman who always stayed close to Cole at parties. Who never spoke unless spoken to. Who looked like she was trying to disappear into the walls.

We never talked. The Vipers' clubhouse wasn't a place for friendships between women. It was a place where you kept your head down and survived.

But I saw her. Multiple times. And I remember what happened when she left.

"I thought I recognized you last night," I say. "But I was too hurt to place it. I'm remembering now." I pause. Take another sip of water. "I'm glad you got away."

Something in Ivy's expression softens. "Thank you."

"Cole was an asshole." The words come out flat. Factual. "You deserved better than what he would have given you."

"I know that now." Her voice is quiet. "Took me too long to figure it out, but I know it now."

We sit in silence for a moment. Two women who survived the same hell from different angles.

"We never spoke," I say finally. "At the clubhouse. I saw you around but we never had a conversation."

"No. Cole made it very clear I wasn't supposed to talk to other women. Said it would give me ideas." Ivy's smile is bitter. "Turns out he was right to worry about that."