Penelope barely had time to flinch before the door slammed open with a thunderous crack. Ivy stood in the doorway, eyes burning with rage, breath sharp and shallow—like a predator on the hunt.
"I am so done with you!" Ivy hissed.
Penelope froze, her eyes wide, her brows lifting in dread. Oh God, she thought. This is it. Whatever Ivy has planned… it's happening now. Fear still lingered, but she was almost used to it. Maybe she'd already forgotten what pure bliss ever felt like.
She scrambled to the far side of the bed, but Ivy's heavy footsteps closed the distance. With a vicious yank, Ivy dragged her down. Penelope cried out as her body hit the cold, unforgiving floor with a dull thud.
"Let me go!" she screamed, clawing at Ivy's hand but the effort was all futile— the vampire's strength was unyielding.
Ivy smirked. "I'm taking you somewhere you can finally be useful—instead of rotting here like a burden." Her face hovered close to Penelope's. "They'll love you." Her laugh was sharp, cruel, and full of secrets. It's either this or she'll lose the only person who she thinks cares about her.
Penelope turned her face away, trembling. Who could possibly love this maniac vampire witch? Her thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Ryak. How had he ever crossed paths with someone like Ivy? He was dangerous too, a maniac in his own way, yes—but dangerously handsome. The thought slid in between her tears, confusing her even more. What was wrong with her? Why did she feel so light when she thought of him, even after what he had done? Every day she found excuses for him, slipping further into naivety. At least in her thoughts she could escape the torment Ivy brought.
Ivy narrowed her eyes at Penelope's flushed face. "Weirdo," she muttered. "Now she likes me." Rolling her eyes, she tightened her grip and dragged Penelope mercilessly across the wooden floor. Pain jolted Penelope back to reality.
"Stop! Please, stop!" she begged, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see," Ivy spat, her voice low and venomous.
Her cries echoed through the hallway, but Ivy never flinched. She only paused once—to snatch her phone from the counter and dial a number.
"Meet me by the hill, close to the river," she ordered, voice calm and chilling. No name. No explanation. Just a command.
Penelope's mind spun. Was it Ryak? If it was, maybe they're finally letting me go. It was the first time she had seen anywhere other than her room and the library—and obviously her first time seeing a cell phone. She had read about them and had asked her parents to get her one, but they said it was too risky.
Ivy's words shattered Penelope's fragile hope. She turned, her cold gaze locking on Penelope, who was now trembling on her feet.
"They're so excited to meet you," Ivy said with a dark chuckle.
"They?" Penelope thought, her heart racing. She hadn't heard a voice on the other end of the call—just a low hum. Who was waiting for her?
Her breath caught, and she didn't realize she'd been holding it until she gasped for air.
Penelope's world spun as Ivy dragged her out of the house and into the forest.
As they stepped into the forest, the crisp air struck Penelope's skin like a thousand tiny needles. For a fleeting moment, she longed to smile—to laugh beneath the golden sun, stretch out on the grass, and breathe deeply. The air was so pure it almost choked her.
But her reality smothered those dreams. Tears welled instead of laughter.
Ivy shoved her forward, driving her deeper into the trees. Penelope's eyes darted from trunk to trunk, desperate for a landmark—anything she might have glimpsed once from her castle window. Somewhere she could run. But they were too deep now. Even if she found a familiar path, Ivy would catch her, and God knows what she would do to her.
So, she forced herself to stay calm. She would wait. The perfect moment to act would come.
As if plucking the thought straight from her mind, Ivy stepped closer and seized Penelope's wrist. She twisted it sharply, her lips brushing Penelope's ear as she hissed, "Don't even think about it. I. Will. Kill. You." Her voice drips with venom.
Pain shot through Penelope's arm. She winced, swallowed hard, and nodded in panic—afraid that if she didn't, Ivy might snap her wrist entirely.
Finally, Ivy released her grip as they reached a small clearing on the slope of a low hill. From below came the steady rush of water — a river, its voice calm and unhurried, flowing in stark contrast to the storm that had just passed between them.
"Stop!" Ivy yelled.
Penelope flinched, pressing her hands to her face and covering her ears. You didn't have to yell… I'm not deaf, she thought bitterly.
Ivy's eyes swept across the clearing, scanning for the person she was expecting. Penelope, meanwhile, was lost in her own thoughts. She edged closer to the cliff and looked down. The drop churned her stomach. She sighed and muttered under her breath, "That looks painful… but it'll do."
"What did you just say? What will do?" Ivy snapped. She stormed over to Penelope and shoved her onto the damp earth. Penelope gasped for air, her heart pounding with terror, her hair matted with dirt.
Looking up at Ivy looming over her, Penelope stammered, "I—I was just thinking… how p-painful it would b-be to jump off th-the hill…" Her voice trembled as violently as her body.
"That better be the only thing you're thinking," Ivy hissed. "Because running will be the last thing you ever do before I catch you."
She straightened and stepped back. A rustle in the tall bushes broke the silence, followed by the crunch of approaching footsteps. Ivy's lips twisted into a wicked grin. "They're here," she murmured. "Any last goodbyes you'd like to say to me?" She laughed, low and cruel.
Penelope turned toward the sound, her eyes widening with fear as three large men emerged from the dense brush.
One was tall and broad-shouldered, a jagged scar running down his cheek. Another wore a heavy coat despite the heat, his hands buried deep in his pockets. The third had eyes so cold they seemed to pierce straight through her.
"Ivy," the scarred one — clearly the leader — said, his voice low and gravelly. "You called us."
Ivy folded her arms and smirked. "Took you long enough. I was starting to wonder if you'd lost your nerve."
The man in the coat stepped forward. "Is this her?" he asked, nodding toward Penelope, who crouched on the damp earth.
"Yeah. Let's just get this over with," Ivy spat impatiently. "You can have her for free. I just want to be rid of her."
Penelope's breathing quickened, panic etched across her face as she pushed herself unsteadily to her feet. What's going on? Ivy is handing me over? For what? And who are these people? Her eyes darted to the cliff's edge only a few steps away.
The third man sighed and walked toward Penelope; she took a backward step, bringing her closer to the precipice. He stopped and stared at her, measuring. "She's thin and looks weak. How do we know her blood is worth anything if you're giving her away for nothing?"
"Then forget it. I'll get rid of her myself," Ivy scoffed heartlessly.
"Relax — he was just making sure," the scarred man said before Ivy could lunge at the third man and rip his eyes out.
Penelope froze, shaken by what she'd heard.
The man in the coat moved in. Penelope's heart hammered. Her hands trembled as she edged backward, step after step, until the cliff loomed at her feet.
Ivy tapped her shoe against the ground and said with a sneer, "Hurry up, vixen. Let him have you. I don't have all day."
The man reached for her arm — too slow. With a burst of desperate energy, Penelope twisted free. Her foot slipped on the wet moss at the edge. For a breathless instant she clutched at air, then tumbled over the cliff before anyone could grab her.
As the world tilted, flashes of memory burned in her mind: Katherine, Tracy, Julius… her mother and father. Smiling faces she would never see again. Why was I so selfish to leave the castle? she thought bitterly. The world was never what I imagined.
For a stunned moment the three men stared at her like she'd lost her mind. The man in the coat peered over the edge, careful not to get too close and risk slipping. He watched as Penelope rolled down the steep slope, hitting rocks and roots; her body flipped again and again.
Pain exploded in Penelope's skull when she struck a jagged stone.
Then — silence.
A splash echoed from below as her limp body plunged into the rushing river. She bobbed to the surface, surrounded by her own pool of blood.
Ivy stared down at the water, her grin widening. "That was easy," she said.
The third man, eyes glazed with something hungry and wrong, murmured, "That blood smells… good," and licked his lips.
The scarred man shook his head. "Well, I don't think you need our help anymore," he said, gesturing to his companions. "Let's go."
"Of course I don't," Ivy said with a laugh of pure joy. "This is even better — I got to watch her suffer." She turned her back and left as though nothing had happened.
The men melted into the shadows, leaving behind no trace.
On the water's surface, Penelope's body floated in the current, carried along by the cold water to whatever end awaited it.