Mister West by R.J. Lewis (animal farm read .TXT) 📕

spinning. Before I can get back up, I hear the front door slam open. I can’t see the door from the bedroom where I am. I tense, waiting for one of his friends to barge into the room, but Derek looks surprised.

He turns around, and marches to the doorway. His shoulders stiffen. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Ivy?” a voice calls out.

A spark shoots through me. “Aidan…”

This is going to be full-blown pandemonium.

He’s at the door within seconds and this time Derek steps away to face him.

“Is this him?” he demands. “You been fucking my wife?”

“There’s a car waiting out front,” Aidan quickly tells me before focusing on Derek. “Go to it, Ivy.”

Everything happens so fast. Aidan’s pushing him back, telling me to leave, and Derek is going crazy. He tries to come to me, but Aidan is standing in his way, pushing him away from me.

“Fuck off!” Derek shouts at him. “Don’t you fucking touch me!”

“Get out, Ivy,” Aidan tells me sharply.

“You leave, and we are fucking through, Ivy.”

I’m already through, though. It takes a lot to get up. My legs are wobbly, and my heart is in my mouth. Derek’s face falls when he sees me begin to move.

“Don’t leave me, Ivy,” he pleads.

My heart hurts so much. I suck in a breath and turn to look back at him, but I catch Aidan’s face instead. He’s staring at me, his face hard.

“You will leave,” he demands slowly.

He’s right.

He’s right, I repeat to myself.

I need to leave.

In a desperate attempt to get to me, Derek swings his drunken fists at Aidan, but Aidan blocks each one. He doesn’t punch him back. Not even once. He keeps Derek at bay, looking like a giant wall in front of him, as I quickly get up, bag in hand and hurry out of the apartment.

The neighbors are standing in the hallway, hearing the commotion. I don’t even look at them as I take the elevator down to the ground floor. I’m shaking everywhere. It’s all a blur.

Like Aidan said, there’s a black car waiting out front, and his driver is sitting behind the wheel. My legs move, even while my brain isn’t processing. I feel like I’m hovering outside myself.

Without thinking, I slip into the back of the car and shut my eyes.

Aidan

My blood is boiling, and my vision is spotty. I’m going to fucking snap. It doesn’t take a lot for me to get angry. I’m a pissy person. Not the most patient man around, sure, but this…this is a different kind of rage. I feel it on a primal level. I feel like something of mine has been damaged.

Ivy is mine. The thought is a whisper in my mind, but it’s so loud, too. She came into my life, already taken, but I can’t shake the feeling she’s mine. I’m trusting my instincts. I’m trusting what my heart is saying, because for once my heart is saying something.

The second Ivy is out of the room, I redirect my gaze at this dick-bag motherfucker. She’s gone, so I don’t need to be fucking civil.

He’s already trying to get around me. He looks like a junkie that’s racing after his next hit.

This motherfucker.

I quickly push him back hard, slamming him into the door.

“So, you’re the cheating shit,” I growl as he struggles against me. “You’re not going anywhere, motherfucker.”

He seethes, looking back at me. He’s so drunk, his eyes can hardly focus.

“She’ll come back to me,” he says. “She always does.”

“You put on quite a fucking show,” I return. “Begging for her, and she wasn’t having any of it. I doubt you’ll see her again. This trauma bond you’ve put her through ends now.”

Because that’s what it is. It’s trauma bond. Ivy only knows this chaos. It’s altered her brain chemistry. It’s got her tethered to a cunt even when she’s desperate for an escape. She needs this intervention. It’s the only way to sever the connection. I’ve been there. I see it for what it is, and I’m going to make sure it ends now.

There’s panic in his fidgeting now.

“You’re going to use her,” he tells me, seething. “I know your type. You’re not serious about her.”

“I’m very serious about her,” I return swiftly.

“Just let her go. She wants us. You’ve influenced her, I know it. She’s not the same.”

“You mean she isn’t malleable?” I ask, raising my brows. “She doesn’t give in anymore every time you throw these pussy fits? She only ever did it to avoid conflict. Your happiness used to be her high.”

“You don’t know anything about us.”

“I know enough.”

“She’s only running because she blames herself for what happened to Isabella. She’s been pushing me away ever since, and she’ll push you away too.”

I’m not going to pretend to know what he’s talking about. Whatever happened, I don’t want to hear it from him, either. Ivy’s gone out of her way to stay out of my life when it’s everywhere on the internet. I’m not going to meddle, especially if it means having to hear this cunt talk.

I glance around the bedroom now, taking in the chaos. Some of it is girly shit, like her make-up and clothing, but there’s empty bottles of alcohol too. I frown, feeling frustrated with myself for not having intervened sooner.

I could have stopped her from going in the night I dropped her off from the airport and she looked up at the building with fear in her eyes. She’d been ready to leave then, and I just watched her go in. So concerned with myself, with building barriers that made my emotions inaccessible, I ultimately sentenced her to months of the same cyclic abuse.

I redirect my gaze to this asshole. His clothes are baggy, his eyes are sunken in, his face is red and sweaty. He’s got all the signs of alcohol dependency.

“If you genuinely care for Ivy, you’d let her the fuck go.” I don’t say this maliciously. There’s no growl in my tone, no aggression