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“If you were Ivy,” Callen says, trying to coax me out of my slump, “where would you go?”
Then it hits me.
There’s only one place she’d go. Only one last person on her list. Her purpose and ultimate mission.
“Bexley,” I say, standing. “That’s where she’ll be.”
Callen’s eyes light up greedily. “I’ve always wanted to teach that rich cunt a lesson.”
Ivy won’t be pleased to see us, but I have to make things right whether she wants me to or not…
CHAPTER 4
IVY
We edge cautiously around the side of the Bexley mansion, our backs pressed against the red brick. The traditional building is beautiful, yet I only see a prison when I look at it. The walls are steeped in the bitter memories of my and Spencer’s shared history. A history I want to erase.
Returning takes me back to another time. When we first started dating, Spencer pulled out all of the stops to impress me. Back then, I enjoyed the attention being with him brought and felt special to be on the receiving end of jealous glares from other women, knowing he’d picked me over them. In those early euphoric days, I was blind to his true nature. Spencer never showed a hint of the cruel man lurking underneath the surface. He was charming, funny, attentive, and surprisingly down to earth. But my judgment was wrong. He was a predator grooming his prey.
For our third date, instead of going to another five-star Michelin restaurant, Spencer insisted I visit his home. From our conversations and my internet searches, I knew he was wealthy. Even without online sleuthing, it was clear he was an important man from how others treated him like a celebrity.
On my first visit to the mansion, I recall thinking that he lived in the most exclusive area of London. His house was worth tens of millions, not including the opulent decor and historical artefacts filling its corridors. When I arrived for the evening, Spencer took my coat and led me to the grand dining room. The impeccably laid table boasted flickering candles and fresh flower arrangements. He’d hired the most prestigious private chef in Europe to cook for us, and I felt like the luckiest girl in the entire world. His charm swept me away, and I didn’t hesitate to move in shortly afterwards, believing I’d met my very own Prince Charming. How wrong I was.
Bram squeezes my hand and brings me back to the present. The clouds have turned a murky grey overhead, casting us in shadow. The road is quiet, with no pedestrians wandering around. We hug the path as I take Bram to the staff entrance. I let my instincts guide me. I’ve lived this moment out in my fantasies for five years. Spencer hunted me once, and now it was my turn to return the favour.
“Copy that,” a stranger’s voice says in a hushed tone. A man, presumably a security guard, stands a few feet from us around the next corner. “Almost time for shift change.”
Spencer’s guards watch over every entrance. We saw two men at the front door upon our approach. Both appeared to be too preoccupied with their conversation to pay us attention as we passed. Spencer should have hired better security, not that he’d need them for much longer.
We pause and wait, listening to see whether the man speaks again. Nothing. He must be alone. Taking one out is easy enough.
My eyes find Bram’s. His green-eyed gaze shines with determination, and he drops his chin in agreement. It’s go-time. He goes first. For a man built like a fortress, he moves with the gracefulness of a ballerina. His opponent has no chance. He doesn’t see him coming or have time to respond before Bram’s muscular arm wraps around his neck like a Boa. Bram tugs in a swift, clean motion and the man’s eyes roll back into his head, then his limbs go limp.
I breathe a low whistle. “Not bad.”
Although he’s been out of the saddle for a while, he’s impressive. I’d questioned whether Bram would come through for me, but there’s no doubt now. By bringing me here, he’s proved I can trust him. While he didn’t agree with my reasoning, he hadn’t tried to stop me and stood fighting at my side. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say the same for the other Dukes. I push thoughts of Freddie’s betrayal from my mind. I’d waited years for my retribution, and one traitorous arsehole—no matter how handsome—wasn’t going to ruin it for me. I had to savour every second.
I survey the scene, noting a camera mounted on the wall to monitor the area. However, the red light that should have blinked has failed. Bram’s tech skills and disablement have come in handy. Next to the door, there is a keypad with a retina scanner, which looks to be in working order.
“The scanner must run separately from the rest of the system,” I comment.
Bram drags the guard across to the scanner, and I force his eyes open long enough to let the red light run over them.
I grin as it beeps in agreement. “Bingo.”
Bram hauls the man effortlessly to the side, dumping his body behind a hedge. To my surprise, I see his chest is still moving. Well, damn. That’s pretty impressive to have enough self-control not to break his neck when using excessive force.
I raise an eyebrow. “He’s still alive?”
Bram shrugs bashfully, making me roll my eyes. Maybe he’s not such a tough guy after all. I’d rather turn the mansion into a bloodbath, but there’s no time to chastise Bram for showing mercy when we have real work ahead.
Over the years, Spencer has had work done on the building. His kitchen has been extended to include a giant window and oak cabinets have been replaced with sleek, black cupboards with no handles. The awful chandelier that dwarves the room is still present, though.
There’s no one around as we push the door open. Bram takes the first step inside, then bows his head for me to pass like a true gentleman.
The distant sound of the television comes from another room. Hopefully, this means Spencer is home. If he isn’t, we’ll have to find a comfortable hiding spot until he returns.
Ghastly paintings still cover the walls. The unmoving eyes of generations of Bexley’s watch from their frames as we creep past. Thankfully, I pocketed an emergency sedative injection from Torean’s bag earlier as a backup measure in case Trout regained consciousness.
