𝗢𝗨𝗥 𝗣𝗔𝗦𝗧

12 | 𝖳 𝖠 𝖫 𝖪

I slowly walked over to where Ivy sat under a tree, the rain infiltrating her skin as she sat uncomfortably. She looked up at me temporarily before looking back at her hands, I positioned myself beside her, "Grey I'm so conflicted." she says quietly.

"I understand, we are all in tough places. In reality, no one is coming out unscathed from this." I say as Ivy looks over at me, pain unmistakably showing through her eyes. "I know, I just can't continue on like this." she cries lowering her head to her knees as she begins to choke on sobs.

"Ivy you're stronger than you think you are, you're the same person who saved me not long ago. You never showed an ounce of fear that night, you told me the night we met that you were willing to get your hands dirty in this industry." I reason in hopes of making her feel better.

"That morning I almost passed out because of a needle, I was and am only getting my hands dirty to survive, and the "Ghost" is strong not me." she starts running her fingers through her hair. "Amore mio, just because your scared of something doesn't mean it defines you, and you are the "Ghost".

"A highly prestigious assassin prided on effective kills and signature white roses."

"I'm so sick of killing people to stay alive, I want to be able and live an average life, with an average job, get married, and have a few kids, but I can't. I can't in this lifetime thanks to my fifteen-year-old self."

Unsure of what to say next I just pull her close to me where she's crying into my shoulder, "One day, after all of this is over maybe you can get married and have kids, as for the average life. Not a single one of us will be average no matter how hard we try."

Ivy pulls away from me wiping away her tears and slowly getting up from the wet earth, "Thank you, Grey." she whispers. "Wait, I know something that would cheer you up." I call as she turns around sniffling. "What?"

"I know a place that you can't be upset at." I smirk.

"I'm running out of options so let's go." she says as I rise to my feet, "Good."

We walked over to the car and piled in, "Where did Mason go?" I ask watching the raindrops race to the bottom of the window. "He said he'd had enough of an eventful day and he wanted some sleep." Marco shrugs, "Can't blame the man that would be scary for any normal person."

Normalcy, that's ironic.

We drove not far from the coffee shop to a little shop decorated in hues of purple, above the sign read Lucilles Sweet Treats. "You're taking me to an ice cream shop?" she asks bewildered, "This isn't an ice cream shop, it's gelato." I explain. "For the record, I'm heading to the lounge, I have some morals and don't plan to third wheel tonight," Marco says hurriedly walking away.

We stood there still rain-soaked as I rummaged through my car in hopes of a change of clothes. Finally coming up with a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket, "Which one would you prefer?" I ask as she raises her eyebrow.