Ivy’s heart raced like a trapped bird, hammering against her ribs. The three men in black masks closed in, their heavy steps crunching on the dark, empty road. Her broken car sat behind her, smoke curling from its open hood, the sharp smell mixing with her fear. her knees burning from earlier cuts, blood trickling down her shins.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Her voice shook, but she forced the words out, gripping her car keys like they could save her.
The tallest man laughed, a mean, rough sound that made her skin crawl. “A pretty girl like you, all alone? We just want some fun.” His voice was muffled by the mask, but the threat was clear. He grabbed her wrist, his fingers tight like a trap.
Ivy screamed and twisted, pulling hard. Her fancy dress, already ripped at the knees, tore more as another man grabbed her shoulder, yanking the fabric. The soft silk split, showing her collarbone and the edge of her bra. She kicked out, her heel hitting the first man’s groin. He groaned and bent over, swearing loudly.
“You little!” the second man growled, grabbing her hair. Ivy bit his arm hard, tasting sweat and dirt through his jacket. He yelled and let go, and she stumbled back. Her phone slipped from her shaky hands, smashing on the ground, the screen breaking into pieces.
She didn’t wait. She ran.
Her lungs hurt as she sprinted down the dark road, the men’s shouts chasing her. Her torn stockings ripped more, her bleeding knees stinging with every step. Their boots pounded behind her, closer, like dogs after a scared rabbit. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, tears blurring her eyes. She was tired, so tired, but she couldn’t stop.
Headlights flashed ahead, bright and sudden. A black SUV screeched to a stop, tires squealing on the pavement. Ivy didn’t think, she ran toward it, her legs wobbling. The driver’s door opened, and a man stepped out, tall and broad, his face half-hidden in the shadows. She tripped, her strength gone, and fell forward. Strong arms caught her just before she hit the ground, holding her up as her vision faded to black.
Zane Carver stared at the woman in his arms, his heart skipping a beat. Ivy Dawson. Her black hair was messy, tangled with dirt. Her dress was torn, one sleeve barely hanging on, her stockings shredded, blood staining her knees. Her face, even dirty and tear-streaked, was the same one he’d never forgotten. His ex-fiancée. The woman who’d crushed him three years ago, saying, “I can’t marry you,” in front of everyone, her voice cold and final. No reason, just those words that still stung.
“Ivy?” he said softly, almost to himself. “What happened to you?”
He held her close, her body light and fragile against his chest. His men jumped out of the SUV, guns ready, looking into the dark. The three masked men froze at the edge of the headlights, then ran off into the shadows.
“Find them,” Zane ordered, his voice hard. “Alive. I want answers.”
“Yes, sir,” Marcus, his security chief, said, already signaling the others to chase them.
Zane carried Ivy to the SUV, his mind spinning. He’d been driving to her family’s mansion to say he was sorry about her parents and not being able to attend their funeral, and maybe to show her he wasn’t the same man she’d rejected. Three years ago, her words had turned him into someone else, a playboy who didn’t care, who let women chase him but never let them in. Ivy had been different. She’d been his. Until she wasn’t.
“Drive to the lakeside house,” he told his driver. “Fast.”
As the SUV sped through the quiet city, Zane called Kent Harper, his best friend and the only doctor he trusted to keep this quiet. A hospital would mean news headlines, and with Ivy involved, it would be a mess.
“Kent, get to my place. It’s urgent.”
“What now, Zane? Break another heart and need me to stitch it up?” Kent’s voice was sharp with his usual sarcasm, but he sounded worried.
“Not me. Just come. Lakeside house. Now.”
Kent paused. “This better not be one of your stunts, man.”
Zane didn’t answer, his eyes on Ivy. Her breathing was soft, her lips slightly open. He brushed a piece of hair from her face, his fingers staying a moment too long. Why did she still make his heart race? She’d hurt him, left him, and yet here he was, holding her like she mattered.
The SUV pulled into his lakeside mansion, all glass and stone, screaming money. Zane carried Ivy inside, her head against his shoulder. He laid her on his bed, the black silk sheets soft under her torn clothes. He stood there, watching her, his chest tight.
“What happened to you, Ivy?” he whispered.
The doorbell rang, and Kent walked in, medical bag in hand. He stopped short, his smirk gone as he saw Ivy. “What the hell, Zane? You said urgent, not… what, a runaway princess?”
“Knock it off,” Zane said, his voice low. “She was running from three guys in masks. Her car’s dead, her clothes are ripped, and she passed out. That’s it.”
Kent knelt by the bed, checking Ivy’s pulse. “She’s okay, just in shock. Cuts on her knees, some bruises. She needs rest and cleaning up.” He looked at Zane, grinning a little. “So, you’re saving Ivy Dawson now? The girl who kicked your ego to the curb? That’s rich.”
Zane’s jaw tightened. “She’s hurt, Kent. Focus.”
Kent laughed, grabbing antiseptic from his bag. “Oh, come on. You’re telling me you’re not dying to know why Little Miss Perfect is running around like she’s in a bad movie? Last I checked, she was the Dawson family’s golden child, not a street rat.”
Zane didn’t answer. He remembered that night three years ago. The fancy restaurant, the ring in his pocket, the crowd watching. He’d loved her, her quiet smarts, her shy smile, the way her eyes sparkled when she was happy. He thought she loved him too. But when he proposed, her face went blank, and she said those words: “I can’t marry you.” The room had laughed, whispered, stared. He’d become the city’s favorite joke. After that, he’d changed, parties, women, no feelings. But Ivy? She’d stayed in his head.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” Kent said, smirking as he cleaned Ivy’s cuts. “The great Zane Carver, brought down by a girl who didn’t even explain herself. Gotta say, I kinda respect her for it. Not many people can make you look like a fool.”
“Shut it,” Zane said, but there was no bite in his voice. He paced, glancing at Ivy. Her dress was torn higher now, showing a bruise on her leg. His fists clenched. Whoever did this would regret it.
Kent chuckled, bandaging her knees. “What’s your plan, hero? Fix her up and win her back? Or just show her how much better you are now? Bigger company, more fame, women lining up. You’re not exactly crying over her anymore.”
Zane stopped, glaring. “You talk too much.”
“Always have,” Kent said, grinning. “But seriously, what’s up? You don’t just pick up your ex off the street for no reason. And your mom still hates her guts, you know that.”
Zane stayed quiet. His mother had called Ivy a disgrace after the rejection, said she’d shamed the family. But Zane knew Ivy wasn’t the spoiled rich girl everyone thought. She was smart, kind, different. Seeing her like this, hurt, alone, made his chest ache in a way he hated.
Kent finished and stood up. “She’ll sleep for a bit. Shock and exhaustion. Keep an eye on her. And maybe don’t stare like she’s your lost puppy. It’s a little sad.”
Zane shot him a look, but before he could say anything, Ivy moved. A soft sound came from her lips, and her eyes opened slightly. They met Zane’s, wide and scared, but recognizing him.
“Zane?” she whispered, her voice breaking.
Her eyes closed again, and she was out, leaving Zane frozen.
