𝐏𝐨𝐢𝐬𝐨́𝐧 𝐈𝐯𝐲

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓.

"Love you more, and I promise I will," Ivy replied with a wave, eyes lingering on Raegan as she drove off. Fishing her keys from her purse, Ivy made her way to her own car, her gaze sweeping cautiously over the dimly lit parking garage. She swiftly unlocked her door, slipped into the driver's seat, and sped off into the night.

Navigating through the night's embrace, Ivy was guided only by the sporadic glow of street lamps and the occasional gleam of oncoming headlights. The silence inside her car was deafening, the radio untouched, adding to the night's stillness. Since that unsettling night, Ivy had been unsettled, a persistent sense of unseen eyes tracking her every move haunting her.

After receiving that invasive photo of herself dressing, Ivy promptly invested in additional curtains, compensating for the very few she'd had before. With her windows tall and grand, curtains had seemed unnecessary, but now her perspective had shifted entirely, prioritizing privacy above all else.

At last, Ivy arrived at her driveway and swiftly exited her vehicle. She clutched her purse, secured her car, and hastened to her front door. Fumbling with the keys, she unlocked it and rushed inside. The shadowy interior of her house sent a chill coursing through her, prompting her to hastily illuminate the entryway with a flick of the switch.

Ivy wandered through her home, the air was thick with a disturbing tension, a stark contrast to the usual calamity. Abruptly, a barrage of barking erupted from the backyard, piercing the uneasy silence. With a furrowed brow and a sharp gasp, Ivy made her way outside to investigate the commotion, suspecting her dog, Rocky, was the source.

Rocky spotted Ivy right away and zoomed over, darting by the pool on the pavement. He was so pumped, he nearly knocked Ivy over while still yapping away. Ivy knew something was up—Rocky only made a fuss like this when something sketchy was going on. "What's wrong, Rocky?" she asked, half-expecting him to answer. Of course, he just kept barking.

Swiftly, Ivy ushered both herself and Rocky back indoors, securing the door and activating the alarm. A wave of dread washed over her as the familiar tune from the lounge's record player started up once more. Rocky's barks rose to match the volume of the music. Overwhelmed by the eerie situation, Ivy dashed to the kitchen, snatched the landline from the counter, and punched in the numbers for 911.

"Who are you calling?"

Ivy stood stuck in her spot, a chill running down her spine as the unexpected question reached her ears from behind. The phone slipped from her grasp, clattering mockingly on the floor. With her heart pounding and tears gathering like storm clouds in her eyes, she took a deep breath and began to turn, facing the mysterious presence that had invaded her moment of panic.

As Ivy mustered the courage to face the stranger, her eyes locked with the woman's commanding gaze. Towering above her, the woman exuded an air of authority. Her tanned complexion showcased a healing scar that traced a path from her brow, over her eye, and down to her cheek. With dark, tousled hair that fell just past her shoulders, framing her face in a perfectly imperfect way, she had an effortlessly captivating presence.

Ivy's eyes swept over the woman's attire, noting the sharp lines of her tailored black blazer, which hinted subtly at her cleavage beneath, paired impeccably with matching trousers. Undeniably attractive, the woman's beauty was an irrelevant detail amidst the current tension. She seemed like she was dressed for a meeting but had made a pit stop along the way.

Ivy's gaze met the woman's, causing her to slowly step back as the woman closed in with each step. Ivy found herself backed against a counter, trapped and unable to escape. The woman wore a sly smirk and tilted her head, taunting Ivy with a raspy voice, "Come on, don't you want to put up a fight? You're no fun, Ivy," she mocked.

"I don't mind getting a little messy, I'm sure you can fix up my clothes," the woman said, implying that she knew Ivy was a fashion designer. Ivy's eyes widened as she spun around, thinking the knives were behind her. However, when she looked on the other side of the counter, she realized they were actually on the opposite end.

"W-Why are you doing this?" Ivy stammered, her gaze fixed downward, only to feel the woman's grip entwining her hair, fingers pressing into her scalp, forcibly tilting Ivy's head upward.

Before the woman could reply, Rocky's barks erupted anew, drawing her sharp attention. She spun, swiftly drawing her gun from her waistband and leveling it at Rocky. Ivy's eyes shot open in alarm, and she bolted towards the knives arrayed on the counter, yanking one free. "Please, don't shoot him! If you do, I'll... I'll have to hurt you," Ivy declared, her quivering voice betraying the fear that gripped her.

The woman laughed, echoing off the walls as she casually leaned against the counter, regarding Ivy's threat as nothing more than a pitiful joke. Unfazed by the knife Ivy brandished, she smirked. "I had a feeling that you were a knife person, hence why I brung my gun just for you," she taunted, waving her weapon in the air, with a crazed glint flickering in her eyes.

Ivy's response was a silent cascade of tears, but within her, a fierce rage boiled over. With a strained cry, she lunged at the woman, knife aimed with deadly intent. But, the woman's reflex was swifter, seizing Ivy's wrist in a stern-like grip, twisting brutally. The knife clattered to the floor, Ivy's only weapon skittering out of reach as the woman kicked it aside efficiently.

"Nice try"

"Fuck, Let go, Let go!" Ivy cried out, her wrist buckling beneath the woman's stern clasp. She found herself being dragged towards the living room, abruptly shoved to the floor. Her head collided with the nearby lamp stand, sending the lamp toppling and shattering just above her, the impact plunging her into an unconscious state.

Smiley observed as a dark halo of blood expanded around Ivy's head. She approached deliberately, stooped, and pressed her fingertips to the nape of Ivy's neck, seeking the rhythm of life. The pulse throbbed weakly under her touch. With a scoff, she straightened, fingers combing through her hair in irritation, annoyed by the necessity of inflicting harm so soon in their little game.

"Don't sleep too long, we were just getting started"

QOTD: How do you guys feel about this book so far?