The Breaking Point
952 Words
The house is too quiet.
I know better than to find comfort in that. Quiet in this place is never safety—it’s the stillness before a storm. The kind that rips your world apart without warning.
I lock the door behind me anyway, out of habit more than hope. Not that a cheap deadbolt would ever stop him.
The moment I take a step into the kitchen, I freeze.
His truck is already in the driveway.
I didn’t hear it pull in.
My pulse quickens. My wolf shifts beneath my skin, unsettled. She’s awake now. She’s been stirring more each day, and I don’t know whether that comforts me—or scares me more.
A familiar voice cuts through the hallway.
“Ivy!”
One word. Sharp. Loud. Laced with venom. That tone has been terrifying me since I was six.
I clench my fists and walk toward the sound, already rehearsing my blank expression. Already preparing for the worst.
Nathan Monroe stands in the living room, a half-empty bottle of whiskey swinging from his hand, his posture too relaxed to be harmless. His eyes rake over me, not like a father should, but like something uglier.
“You didn’t answer my call.”
I force my voice to stay steady. “I didn’t hear it.”
He takes a slow sip, like he’s giving me time to realize just how bad that answer is.
“You didn’t hear it?” he echoes, stepping closer. “So now you’re deaf and disobedient?”
I keep my eyes down. That’s Rule One. Don’t challenge. Don’t resist. Don’t show fear.
But I still flinch when he grabs my arm.
“I saw you,” he growls. “Walking around town like you don’t have a damn thing to be ashamed of. You think anyone’s gonna want a broken little freak like you?”
He shoves me backward, and I hit the wall with a thud that knocks the breath from my lungs.
My cheek is still sore from last time. He never lets it heal. Not completely.
“You should be grateful,” he spits. “No one else is ever going to take care of you like I do. No one else would even want you.”
His breath reeks of whiskey and smoke. I want to scream. But I’ve learned that silence is safer.
“Say something,” he snaps, grabbing my chin so hard I feel the bruise forming already. “Go ahead. Talk back. I dare you.”
My wolf growls. Quietly. A warning. She’s not hiding anymore.
And he feels it.
His face twists into rage. “You think that damn thing inside you makes you strong? You’re nothing but a filthy mutt!”
Before I knew it his hand is at my throat.
Tight.
I claw at his wrist, panic surging.
“You think I won’t break you?” he hisses. “You think that mutt’s gonna save you? She didn’t last time. And she won’t now.”
He slams me onto the floor, my shoulder screaming in pain as I hit the tile. I try to roll away, but he grabs my ankle and drags me back like I’m trash.
I scream.
Not loud. Just a strangled, broken sound. But it’s enough.
“Enough.”
The front door bursts open with a sound like thunder. Wind howls in behind it, and the scent of the forest floods the house—earth, frost, danger.
And power.
Nathan looks up, startled. Furious. “Who the—”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish.
Kael moves like a predator unleashed.
In one fluid motion, he crosses the room, grabs Nathan by the collar, and slams him into the wall so hard the drywall cracks.
“Get your hands off her,” Kael snarls. His voice is low. Deadly. Cold.
Nathan chokes. “You can’t just barge in here—I’m her father—”
Kael’s eyes burn silver. “That’s not what you act like.”
He slams Nathan again. Harder.
I curl against the wall, gasping for air, my throat raw, vision swimming. My wolf is howling inside me now—not in fear, but in recognition. He’s here. The one from the dreams. The one who burns.
“You ever touch her again,” Kael says, pressing his forearm into Nathan’s throat, “and I’ll make sure no one ever finds what’s left of you.”
Nathan snarls. “She’s mine.”
Kael’s voice drops to something inhuman. “No. She was never yours. And now… she’s mine to protect.”
He lets go, and Nathan crumples to the floor, coughing and swearing.
Kael turns to me.
His expression shifts in an instant—from rage to something softer. Something that feels like it could break me if I look too long.
I try to stand. My legs buckle.
He’s there before I hit the ground.
His arms are around me—strong, careful, steady. I don’t want to trust him. I don’t want to need anyone.
But by the gods, I’m tired.
And for the first time in years… I feel like someone is really holding me up.
Nathan groans from the floor. “You think you can just take her? She’s nothing. She’s damaged. She ain’t even—”
Kael turns. One glare. One flash of silver eyes.
Nathan shuts up.
I cling to Kael’s shirt, my fingers digging into the fabric.
“Ivy,” he murmurs, voice low against my temple. “You’re safe now.”
I want to believe him.
I need to believe him.
But I’ve never known safety.
Still… in his arms, I think maybe I could.
Maybe I will.
- Writer
