Fragile Territory
Fragile Territory
Chapter 42:
Ivy’s POV
“Of course.” The words came out flatter than I intended, but the alternative was letting him see how my stomach twisted.
I turned away before he could read my expression and walked farther into the apartment. The floor-to-ceiling windows cast the whole place in pale, watery light, reflecting off polished marble counters and expensive furniture that looked like it belonged in a magazine shoot, not a broke person's life.
Damian dropped my bag on the couch. “I'll have your things be delivered as soon as possible. But in the meantime, if you need something, you call me.”
I walked round, taking it all in. The new apartment wasn't like my old one. There was no leaky faucet, no humming fridge, no neighbors arguing through thin walls. It was just quiet.
“Do you like it?” Damian asked from behind me.
“This place feels like a showroom,” I muttered. “Do people actually live here, or do they just stand around and admire the decor?”
Behind me, Damian’s voice was a bit too even. “It’s safe. That’s all that matters.”
“That’s all that matters to you,” I corrected, turning to face him. “You think safety is the same thing as living.”
He stepped closer, “You’d prefer to stay where someone picked your lock?”
“I’d prefer to have a say,” I shot back.
He was silent for a beat. “You always have a say, Ivy.”
That earned a dry laugh from me. “Do I? Because last I checked, I just got relocated without consent. What would you call that, hospitality? Or a hostage situation?”
I finally faced him. He stood near the doorway, hands in his pockets, that calm composure wrapped around him like armor. Except his eyes–they always betrayed him. A faint flicker of gold burned behind the brown, trying to break free.
“I call it necessary,” he said quietly. “You might not believe it, but this is me trying to be gentle.”
“Gentle?” I raised an eyebrow. “You could’ve fooled me.”
He took a step closer. “You think I want to scare you?”
“I don’t think you know what you want,” I shot back.
He stopped, the faintest smirk tugging at his mouth. “You’d be surprised.”
That look, half amused, half predatory, sent my heart racing. I hated that he could still do that, that my body remembered what my brain wanted to forget.
“I didn’t bring you here to argue,” he said, breaking the silence. “I just needed to make sure you’re safe.”
“You keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.” He hesitated. For once, the flawless Alpha mask cracked. “ I don’t want you to live your life in fear.”
“Too late for that.”
His mouth twitched again, but it wasn’t a smile this time. “Then I’ll settle for making sure you stay alive.”
The quiet between us stretched. He walked past me, unhurried, and began checking the apartment’s locks, one by one. Every click of metal echoing in the large room.
“You don’t have to do that,” I said.
He didn’t look back. “Yes, I do.”
There was a firmness in his tone that made me stop arguing.
After a moment, he turned back to face me. “You haven’t eaten.”
I blinked. “Excuse me?”
He nodded toward the kitchen. “I stocked it. There’s food. Eat something before you pass out.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
He stepped closer until he was right in front of me, his height blocking out the city skyline. “You’re not fine,” he murmured.
The heat in his gaze sent my heart into overdrive. I wanted to tell him to step back, to stop crowding my thoughts and my air. Instead, I found myself whispering, “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Doing what?”
“Showing up. Taking over. Acting like you get to decide what happens next.”
His jaw flexed, but his voice stayed low. “Someone has to.”
“No,” I said firmly. “You just think it has to be you.”
He tilted his head slightly, watching me in that unnerving, wolfish way. “If I didn’t, who would?”
Well he got me there.
“Damian…” I started, but the words tangled in my throat.
He reached up, brushing a damp strand of hair from my face. The touch was so light, so careful, that for a moment I forgot to breathe.
“You don’t have to like me for this,” he said quietly. “You just have to stay alive long enough to hate me for it later.”
I stared up at him, heart thundering. “You’re impossible.”
He smiled faintly. “So I’ve been told.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest ache. I hated that I understood him more than I wanted to. The exhaustion in his eyes, the restraint in his voice.
And for who? Me?
“Are you going to keep watching me until I sleep, too?” I asked, trying to break the moment.
“If that’s what it takes,” he said simply.
“Creepy.”
“Effective.”
I rolled my eyes and walked to the couch, flopping down with exaggerated frustration. “You realize normal people don’t deal with things this way, right? They talk, or get therapy, or, I don’t know, write sad poetry about control issues.”
He chuckled under his breath. “I’m not normal, Ivy.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “You don’t say.”
He turned toward the kitchen, his movements quieter now. “There’s coffee,” he said. “Or tea, if you still drink that peppermint stuff.”
I froze. “How do you even know that?”
He shrugged without turning. “I pay attention.”
“You mean you snoop.”
“That too.”
Despite myself, a small smile tugged at my lips. He caught it when he looked back, and something in his expression softened.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moved.
Then he said, almost gently, “You should try to rest, I'll stay just until you fall asleep.”
“You don’t have to babysit me.”
He leaned against the counter, folding his arms. “It’s not about have to.”
I swallowed. “Then what is it about?”
His gaze found mine, slow and unguarded. “Peace of mind.”
My throat tightened. “Yours, you mean.”
“Yes.”
There was no shame in the word, just real honesty.
I turned away first, unable to handle the weight of it. My chest felt too small for my heart, like everything inside me was pressing against a truth I wasn’t ready to face.
“Fine,” I said finally, getting up. “Stay. But only until I fall asleep.”
He nodded once. “Deal.”