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Ivy FUCK
FUCK
FUCK
I don’t know what’s happening
Fucking JEFF
I don’t understand this message but he said you will
[Forwarded]
Tell Ivy I’m in the forest with the guardian. If she doesn’t get here by 2pm, the forest will burn to the ground, with the guardian in it. If she tells anyone, or brings anyone, the match will be struck early. She mustn’t try to be clever. I’ll know.
I shudder. My stomach spasms so hard I think I’m going to be sick. The forwarded message is unmistakably from Jeff. Calling me clever was one of his favorite insults.
Poison Ivy. You think you’re so damn clever.
But that’s not what chills me to the bone. It’s his threat. He’ll burn down the forest. He is with my brother.
WTF Ivy, what must I do??
Police??
Freaking out here.
With shaking hands, I type out a reply.
Don’t do anything. I’ll take care of it.
You fucking won’t!
I’m coming to you. Where?? Where’s the fucking forest?
Will you tell Alistair??
If you call the cops or tell Alistair, Jeff will know. My brother will die. DO NOT DO ANYTHING.
Alistair looks over at me, concerned, wondering why I’m ashen and who I’m texting. I force a smile and pocket my phone.
“You okay?” he asks.
I don’t trust my voice, so I keep the fake smile and nod. I swallow the bile in my throat.
A charming-looking bistro comes up on our left.
“Fancy a coffee?” I say, forcing the words out as brightly as I can.
He glances at me, puzzled. He knows something is up, but gives me space. “Excellent idea,” he replies, and opens the door for me. He orders coffees for the entourage while I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.
I take a paper napkin on my way and grab a waiter balancing a tray of milkshakes, asking for his pen. I scrawl “I’M SORRY” on it, and hand it to him along with a £100 tip. I tell him to give the napkin to Alistair only when they start looking for me, not a moment sooner.
He nods, pockets the money, then points at the swinging doors behind him. “There’s an exit through the kitchen.”
I sprint through the kitchen, trying to avoid collisions with waiters, knives, and steaming pots. The back door is easy to spot, and I get through it and down the block before anyone notices I’m gone. I knock on the window of a taxi, startling the driver, who leans on the button to open it.
“It’s an emergency!” I shout.
