"This isn't a game." I seize her by the arms and drag her up, pinching her face in my grasp. "You will tell me, or they will kill you. It's that simple, Ivy. Surely, even a fucking Moreno can comprehend that much."

"Don't talk to me like I'm stupid." She presses her palms against my chest, trying to shove me off. "You're the one so blinded by your hatred for my family you can't comprehend the only logical conclusion, which is that I'm telling you the truth."

"The truth?" I echo her words darkly. "What truth should I find in the constant stream of lies you have spewed since you walked into this house?"

"It wasn't me!" she yells, shoving with all her might.

I grab her arms and pin them behind her back, walking her backward until she hits the wall. The breath leaves her lungs in a grunt as we collide, and despite the fury surging through my body, I am so hard for her I just want to fuck the confession out of her.

"Tell me." I wrap my icy fingers around her throat and squeeze. "Who gave you the poison?"

"Nobody," she snaps. "Because it wasn't me!"

"Goddammit." My lips hover over hers, breath fanning against her skin. "They will kill you if we don’t give them a name. What part of that don't you understand? There is no alternative. You give up the traitor to save yourself. That's the only way this will play out."

"I can't." She wheezes, straining against my grasp. "So, torture me all you want, but I can't give you what I don't know."

"Was it Chambers?" I demand.

"Chambers?" she repeats, eyes narrowing. "Do you really think I would be in on something with that sick fuck? You know what he did to me."

"Colette then.”

This she laughs at.

"God, sometimes you really can be incredibly paranoid. Do you even realize that?"

The last accusation leaves my lips on a choked whisper. "Mercedes?"

Her face sombers, and my fingers fall from her throat as she peers up at me with a sadness I don't understand.

"It must be so lonely," she answers softly. "To hold such little faith in the people around you. To see everyone as an enemy. Even your own blood."

"Tell me." My voice fractures as I press against her.

Ivy manages to pull one hand free from behind her. Instead of using it to claw or fight, she reaches up to stroke my face. The scars I have no doubt she can see clearly beneath the ink.

"Don't," I warn her, but I'm not stopping her, even as I say it.

My eyes fall shut, and I let her touch me, telling myself I will end it. One more second, and I will end it. But I don't. She studies me with her fingers, smoothing over the rough, taut skin, tracing the lines of the skull.