Chapter 6

Chloe couldn't hold back her sobs.

Her prized golden hair now had an ugly gap, revealing pale white scalp.

But she didn't dare curse anymore.

Ivy's green eyes stared at her coldly, like a wolf cub guarding its food in the wild—small, but ready to tear through a prey's throat at any moment.

Chloe cried until snot bubbles formed, yet didn't dare make another sound.

At that moment, the classroom door opened.

A young woman walked in. Her golden hair was pulled into a neat bun, her features delicate, a pair of gold-rimmed glasses sitting on her nose.

"Hello, children. I'm your new assistant teacher, Ms. Sophia."

Ms. Sophia smiled, her gaze sweeping across the classroom as if she hadn't noticed the fight at all.

"I'll be handing out new craft supplies now. Please go back to your seats and sit nicely."

Ivy let go of Chloe's hair and quietly returned to her seat.

Silas narrowed his amber eyes, studying the blonde woman called Ms. Sophia for a moment.

Crafts class went on.

Silas kept glancing sideways, turning the earlier scene over in his mind.

He pressed a hand to his chest.

Strange. His heart was racing again.

Ivy was focused on her origami, her small fingers a little clumsy. The paper crane she folded came out lopsided, yet had a certain awkward charm to it.

Silas stared at the paper crane for a moment. Without expression, he picked it up from Ivy's desk and slipped it into his pocket.

Ivy looked up. "Brother, why are you taking my paper crane?"

Silas looked back down at his work. "Studying the cross-disciplinary application of origami and aerodynamics."

Ivy blinked, not understanding a word. But that didn't stop her from grinning. "Oh! Then make sure you give it back when you're done, Brother!"

"...Sure."

He wasn't going to give it back.

The dismissal bell rang.

Luxury cars of every kind lined the entrance of Sacred Sprouts. Drivers and nannies hovered around their little charges, ushering them into the vehicles.

Chloe stood at the school gate, jaw tight. She watched Ivy and Silas walk out hand in hand not far away.

Her scalp still throbbed where Ivy had yanked it. The bare patch was barely hidden by a hairpin, but she felt like everyone was laughing at her.

She'd been the Shaw family's little princess her whole life. No one had ever dared touch a single hair on her head.

Ivy—that crazy little nobody—just who did she think she was?

A black Rolls-Royce pulled up in front of Chloe. The driver respectfully opened the door.

Chloe got in, tears spilling again. She grabbed the car phone and dialed.

"Daddy!"

Chloe burst into wails. "Someone bullied me! She hit me! Look at my face, it's all swollen."

The father on the other end went cold.

"Don't cry, sweetheart. Whoever dared bully our precious girl, Daddy will make sure she gets what's coming to her."

Chloe hung up and wiped her tears.

Anyone who dared mess with her would pay for it.

At the preschool entrance.

Children were picked up one by one. The crowd slowly thinned.

Ivy and Silas stood on the steps by the gate, waiting.

"Brother, why haven't Mommy and Daddy come yet?"

Ivy stood on her tiptoes, craning her neck toward the road.

Silas had a pretty good idea why.

Vincent and Vivienne's line of work was unusual. Last-minute jobs came up all the time.

Yesterday Mommy had mentioned she'd taken on a big one—skinning a gang leader alive. She'd probably lost track of time halfway through.

This kind of thing happened constantly. He was used to it.

"Probably in the middle of a job," Silas said.

Ivy nodded like it all made sense. "Oh, so the cow must be really hard to kill."

"Yeah. Especially hard."

She was probably chasing some poor guy all over the city right now.

Ivy nodded and waited a little longer.

Then a black Mercedes-Benz slowly pulled up across the street.

The windows stayed up, but Ivy recognized the car right away.

That was the Shaws' bodyguard car.

Ivy took a quiet breath. Her small fist clenched without her noticing.

Brother was just a bookworm who liked fiddling with machines. He was so thin, and back in class he'd just stood there without fighting back.

If the bodyguards came after them, Brother would definitely get hurt.

Ivy turned to him. "Brother, I think I left my sketchbook in the classroom desk."

Silas glanced at her but didn't move.

"It's the one the teacher said to put stickers on. If I don't hand it in tomorrow, I'll have to stand in the corner as punishment."

Ivy blinked her big eyes at him, looking pitiful. "Brother's the best. Can you go get it for me?"

Silas pressed his lips together, hesitated for a few seconds, then finally turned and headed toward the school building.

Ivy watched his back disappear around the corner. The smile dropped from her face instantly.

She turned to face the black Mercedes-Benz.

The car door opened.

Two tall men in black suits stepped out, their expressions unfriendly.

Ivy looked down, bent over, and picked up a brick from the ground. She tucked it into her wide school uniform sleeve.

The brick was pretty heavy. Once it was in, one sleeve hung noticeably lower than the other, which looked a little ridiculous.

But she didn't care.

The two bodyguards walked over.

"You're the one who bullied Miss Shaw?"

The bald one in front looked down at the small girl, his tone full of contempt.

Ivy said nothing. She just stared at them, eyes cold and still.

The other bodyguard laughed. "Tough little thing, aren't you. Miss Shaw told us to knock out every tooth in your mouth. Let's see if you dare bite anyone after that."

He reached out to grab Ivy's collar.

His hand was an inch away.

The brick hidden in Ivy's sleeve swung out and smashed into his knee.

The sharp crack of bone hadn't even faded before she'd thrown herself at the second bodyguard and sunk her teeth into his calf. The taste of rust flooded her mouth instantly.

"You little animal!"

The bald bodyguard swore in pain. His other foot drove hard into Ivy's stomach.

Ivy grunted. Her small body flew like a snapped kite and slammed back-first into the wall. Something metallic and sweet rose in her throat.

But she didn't let go.

She tore away a chunk of flesh and fabric from the leg. Her mouth was full of blood—impossible to tell whose.

Ivy spat out the cloth scraps, tilted her head, and thought for a moment.

Didn't taste great. Not nearly as good as Mommy's fried eggs.

The bald bodyguard's eyes went mean. He pulled out a collapsible baton.

Ivy wiped the blood from her mouth and pushed herself up against the wall. In the bloody light, her green eyes looked darker than usual.

She didn't move out of the way. She took the hit straight on.

Then she grinned, showing small white teeth stained red.

"Chloe sent two pieces of trash like you?"

The bald bodyguard went still.

This little girl was beaten half to pieces and she was still smiling?

Ivy gritted her teeth and drove her fist into the man's temple.

Then she tilted her head. "When my mommy butchers cows, the cows scream louder than you."

She didn't stop.

She picked the bloodied brick up off the ground and brought it down on the other bodyguard's head.

The man made a dull sound and dropped.

Ivy stood there breathing hard. The brick slipped from her fingers.

Her school uniform was torn in several places, blood smeared around her mouth.

Her vision started to go dark at the edges.

She blinked, trying to hold herself upright, but her knees gave out without warning.

Just before she went down, a thin arm caught her.

Silas stood behind her with his schoolbag still on, a few fresh drops of blood on the white cuffs of his shirt.

He looked at his sister's wounds without a word, his amber eyes gone cold as ice.

He gently propped Ivy against the wall, then crouched down and pulled a folding knife from his pocket.

The blade was thin. He'd sharpened it three times on a whetstone the night before. The edge caught the light, cold and clean—sharp enough to slice through three layers of cowhide without effort.

He walked toward the two unconscious men.

Four cuts, eight points. Every tendon severed, clean and thorough. Even if surgeons reconnected them later, they'd never have full strength again.

Not a drop of blood got on his uniform.

The whole thing took less than five minutes.

When he was done, Silas put the knife away.

They hadn't suffered enough. Sloppy work.

He didn't want these two dying too fast.

Dying would be getting off easy.

He turned and crouched in front of Ivy, guiding her two small hands onto his shoulders.

"Brother..." Ivy murmured, barely conscious, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.

Silas felt warmth and wetness against his skin. His lips pressed into a thin line. He said nothing, only holding his sister more firmly against his back.

Dusk settled in. Street lamps flickered on one by one.

When Silas pushed open the front door with Ivy on his back, Vivienne was sitting on the sofa polishing a boning knife.

One look at her daughter, and the knife flew from her hand. It buried itself in the doorframe with a hum.

"What happened!"

Vivienne crossed the room in two steps and lifted Ivy off Silas's back.

Ivy was barely awake, her small face bruised in shades of purple and green, dried blood caked at the corner of her mouth.

Vincent came up from the basement. He took in the scene without a word, but the air around him shifted instantly, turning sharp and cold.

Vivienne raised her hand and smacked the back of Silas's head.

Hard.

"Are you useless?"

Her eyes were going red. "Your sister ends up like this and where were you?"

Silas's head jerked to the side from the blow. He didn't explain. He didn't move out of the way either.

But Ivy woke up at that moment.

She struggled to lift her head from Vivienne's arms. Seeing Mommy glaring at her brother, she panicked so hard her voice broke: "Mommy, don't hit Brother!"

Her small hand clutched Vivienne's clothes tight.

"I told Brother to go back inside for my sketchbook. He didn't know bad people were coming for me."

Ivy's breathing was unsteady, tears filling her eyes, but she kept going, stubborn and clear.

"Those people were going to beat me no matter what. I didn't want Brother dragged into it... Mommy, please don't blame him..."

The anger in Vivienne's eyes drained away slowly, replaced by something much harder to name.

She looked down at Ivy's dirty little face—bruised, bleeding, still fighting to shield her brother—and felt something in her chest crack open.

The pain in her eyes was almost too much to keep in.