The Shape of Silence

Chapter Thirteen: Ivy

The next day hit Ivy like a freight train. From the moment she clocked in, it felt like everything was stacked against her. Chuck watched her with a permanent scowl, his stubby fingers sweeping her tips off the counter with practiced ease. It was only ten in the morning when the closer called out sick, which meant Ivy was stuck doing a sixteen hour double, dealing with grumbling customers and gross coffee.

The worst moment came mid-afternoon, when a persistent customer decided to make her the target of his unwanted attention. His eyes lingered too long, his voice dipped into a low, oily charm as he volleyed compliments at her, clearly hitting on her in a way that made her skin crawl.

“I have a boyfriend,” Ivy lied smoothly, hoping to end the conversation without raising suspicion. She layered her tone with easy dismissal, the kind she’d mastered over the years, even as her pulse picked up. She wasn’t ready for questions, or worse, unwanted advances.

Her stomach turned cold when his hand brushed the backs of her thighs and butt when he stretched, turning the motion into a shrug.

“I don’t mind.”

No, Arden snarled, her voice cracked sharply inside her mind, like a whip. Fury lashed through their bond like a sudden storm, They’re mates, which is a hell of a lot more serious.

"Smile sweetheart, it’s okay.” His grin was all teeth, predatory and smug, his eyes lingering on her chest.

Ivy’s breath hitched, anger sizzling under her skin. She sidestepped the hand, making a show of leaving to get the drinks.

Arden prowled under her skin, teeth bared, claws scraping at the edges of her composure like she was ready to tear through flesh at the slightest push.

She shoved down the instincts pounding in her veins—the sudden urge to growl, to bare teeth, to make the man back off. She clenched her jaw, biting down the raw power threatening to explode. Her throat burned with the suppressed growl. Her nails dug crescents into her palm. If only he knew what he was dealing with.

I know you’re mad, Ivy tried to reason with Arden, I don’t like it either, but you’re making this harder.

Arden didn’t answer with words—just a guttural snarl, sharp and wild inside Ivy’s chest. In her mind’s eye, Arden’s fur bristled, tail lashing, purple eyes glowing with a fury that threatened to drown them both.

Ivy flinched, nearly allowing the drink machine to over fill the cups as the anger bled through their bond. Her throat was tight, her skin hot, her body vibrating with a pressure she didn’t have the luxury to release. Not here. Not now.

Let me out, I’ll tear them to shreds, Arden snarled, pacing like a storm behind her ribs.

Ivy swore she could feel claws scraping just beneath her skin, aching to tear through. Her vision fuzzed at the edges, white creeping in as her pulse roared.

“Girl!” Chuck’s voice boomed, yanking her back to the clatter of the diner. He waddled over from the counter, already scowling. “You’re supposed to be out on the floor, not hiding in the corner.”

Her hands shook so hard the tray rattled. She clenched her jaw, biting back the rumble rising in her throat. His breath hit her nose—hot, sour, and greasy—and she nearly gagged. He leaned in too close, like he always did.

“I don’t care if you’re uncomfortable with a little flirting,” he said, his tone mocking as he sneered down at her. “Get back out there and smile like you're supposed to.”

Something in her broke. Not loud, not dramatic—just the quiet snap of a cord pulled too tight for too long.

She didn’t speak. Didn’t bother. Just shoved past him, shoulder clipping his with more force than necessary. The tray dug into her fingers as she delivered the drinks, ignoring the man at the table whose hand had already grazed her once.

She didn’t wait to see if he’d try again. She didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to react if he did.

Her wolf snarled in her chest, a low rumble Ivy barely managed to swallow, masking it with a sharp inhale.

Her fingers tightened so hard around the tray that her knuckles ached. She tossed it into an empty space on the counter, spun on her heel, and bolted—not out the door, not into the crowd—but through the back hall and into the only place she could breathe.

The walk-in cooler slammed shut behind her, sealing her in a world of sterile cold and metallic silence. The chill clawed at her sweat-damp skin, bit through the thin fabric of her uniform, but it didn’t matter. She needed it—needed something to anchor her before she drowned in fire and fury.

Her back hit the wall, sliding down until she was a tight curl on the floor, knees pulled to her chest. The metal was icy against her spine, but her skin still burned, like heat was rolling just under the surface, trying to claw its way out.

You should’ve let me tear him apart, Arden seethed, pacing hard in her mind, tail lashing.

I couldn’t, Ivy choked inwardly, shoving her face against her knees. Not here. Not now.

Her hands shook violently. The tray had left faint red marks across her palms. She lifted her head to stare at them, willing them to stop, willing herself to stop. The faint tremor in her arms traveled up into her chest, rattling against her ribs. She couldn’t get enough air; every breath felt like pulling glass into her lungs.

The pressure under her skin grew sharper—bone-deep. Her gums throbbed, her canines threatening to edge longer. Her spine prickled hot, vertebrae aching with the want to shift.

She buried her head in her arms, shaking harder now. Not here. Not here.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket, unlocking the screen. Her text thread with Rowan stared up at her, the call icon hovering by his name.

Soft, simple letters. A link to warmth. A breath of safety.

She swallowed hard, jaw trembling. He would come get her if she asked. She knew he would, but that would mean pulling him away from whatever important thing he was doing today.

Arden growled, low and aching now, too angry to form words through the bond.

Ivy’s thumb hovered over the call button. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling.

Usually, customers didn’t get to her like this. She was used to brushing off unwanted remarks with a shrug or a sarcastic comeback. Sometimes she even played along just enough to squeeze out a few extra tips, especially when Chuck wasn’t skimming from her paycheck. But today, the weight of everything was piling too high, and the cracks in her armor were starting to show.

Her hands trembled uncontrollably.

It wasn’t just the cold anymore—it was everything. The rising pressure under her skin, the tight coil in her gut that wouldn’t loosen, the raw, blistering heat of Arden’s fury pulsing through her veins like wildfire. The fear of losing control—of slipping just once and letting the world see what she really was—curled tight around her throat like a noose.

She couldn’t go back. Not to that place. Not to hospital rooms and white walls and tranquilizers that dulled her mind and silenced. Arden until it felt like dying in slow motion.

But she could feel it slipping. Her grip on everything fraying like old rope under strain.

Arden was still roaring inside her, a savage, bone-deep frustration that had no outlet. We shouldn’t be here, she seethed, voice barely a whisper in Ivy’s head now—low and trembling with the kind of rage that came from being pushed too far. We should’ve snapped his neck for talking to us like that. For letting them paw at us like we’re nothing.

Her wolf’s hackles were up, fur bristling, breath coming in short, vicious bursts. She wanted blood. Wanted to bare teeth and make someone pay.

If one more customer said the coffee was too weak… if one more hand brushed her hip… if Chuck breathed near her again—

Arden would break free.

And Ivy didn’t know if she could stop her.

She curled in tighter, digging her fingers into her own arms like she could hold herself together with sheer force of will. Her phone slipped in her lap, Rowan’s name still glowing on the screen like it was waiting for her to remember she wasn’t alone anymore.

She heard Chuck’s voice echoing faintly in the distance, calling for her, growing louder, more impatient. Panic flickered in Ivy’s chest.

Her body locked up, frozen between instinct and survival. Shallow, rapid breaths ghosted out in front of her in the chilled air, fogging faintly before vanishing—just like her grip on composure. The cold metal wall behind her was the only thing keeping her upright, the only barrier between her and collapse.

Ivy’s vision blurred as tears burned her eyes. She pressed the call button before she could talk herself out of it, clutching the phone like a lifeline.

When the line clicked open, her voice tumbled out raw, cracking before she could catch it.

“Hey, I know you’re probably busy, but I can’t handle much more right now—I feel like I’m about to lose control,” she whispered, breath hitching. Her throat tightened, vision swimming. “I don’t know what to do. I need to get out of here, but I can’t walk home—I don’t trust myself to make it. I’ve never been this close to just—just losing my shit.” Her voice cracked on the last word.

The heat in her bones burned hotter, her chest rising and falling too fast. She could feel Arden’s claws scraping against her insides, desperate to break through. Her own canines pressed sharp against her lip.

“Please,” she gasped, the word breaking. “Please come get me.”

There was a beat of silence.

“I’m on my way,” Callum said.