Catching Pretty (Lovely Broken Doll #2)

6. Ava

AVA

“ T herapy ?” I echoed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

My head spun with the weight of the word, the implications swirling in dark, dizzying circles. Every possible meaning twisted into something vile, something horrifying.

My pulse thundered in my ears, and I could feel the sickening contrast between the gentle way he touched me—his fingers brushing lightly along my skin—and the cold menace in his words.

I loved Scáth— my Scáth—but this man, this version of Ty… he was terrifying, and yet the nearness of him still stirred something in me, made me ache, made me want to give in to him.

I didn’t know how to handle the confusion, the horror of it.

“W-what kind of therapy?” I forced out, my body trembling beneath his proximity .

Ty chuckled softly, but the sound was dark, humorless. “Not the kind that Dr. Vale wasted your time with.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial, the glass catching the dim light of the room as it glinted in his hand.

Terror surged through me, crawling up from the depths of my chest like a dark wave, my body locking up as memories clawed at the edges of my mind—fragments of something I’d buried deep, something too painful to look at.

But I felt it now, felt it stir as if Ty had opened the latch on Pandora’s box.

No. Not that.

Ty popped the cork and waved the vial under my nose.

The scent hit me like a punch to the gut, the air thickening with the unmistakable, sickly-sweet aroma of the liquid that had haunted my nightmares.

The same one his father— the professor —had used on me all those years ago.

My chest tightened painfully, and I couldn’t stop the images that flickered in my mind—those dark, vile memories.

No, please.

“You will take this paralytic,” he whispered, brushing his lips against my temple as if he were offering comfort, not horror, “and you will start to remember.”

“No.”

“But don’t worry, I’ll be there to help you through it. To cleanse you of him, until there is only me . My touch. My love.”

I wanted to scream, to run, but my legs felt like lead, my mind like quicksand, dragging me down into a place where I couldn’t escape.

His fingers, so tender as they traced the line of my jaw, contrasted violently with the nightmare I knew was coming.

I needed to figure out how to bring him back. Scáth. And I needed to do it now.

My mind raced, scrambling through every piece of information I could remember about split personalities, anything I’d read or researched.

I knew triggers could switch them—stress, memories, emotional connections. If I could just find the right words, the right thing to say, maybe I could reach the part of him that was still my Scáth.

He was in there somewhere, buried beneath this cruel version of Ty.

The name. Names had power, didn’t they? I’d read that before.

Scáth wasn’t just his name—it was a symbol of who he was to me. He was my shadow, my protector. If I could remind him of that, pull him back with it, maybe… maybe I could bring him to the surface.

I swallowed hard, feeling the tremor in my voice. “Please… Scáth—”

“ Don’t call me that,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous, like the growl of an animal ready to strike.

I flinched, recoiling from him like he’d actually struck me.

His eyes were dark, furious, a complete stranger’s. There was nothing of the man I loved, the man I knew, in his expression .

Yet he was in there. Somewhere. But did Ty know about him?

“So, you know about Scáth?” I dared to ask. I needed to understand how far this went, how much he knew.

Ty threw his head back and laughed, the sound cold and harsh, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes glittered with something dark and twisted.

“Of course, I know all about your precious Scáth ,” he sneered. “Your Scáth has coddled you, babied you. He’d cover you in bubble wrap if he could, keep you safe in your little cage.”

My stomach turned at the way he said your Scáth , like he was mocking everything I’d thought I knew about the man who had protected me.

“Your Scáth is too much of a coward to do what needs to be done.” His voice dropped lower, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone. “But I am not.”

My breath caught in my throat. What does that mean? What does he plan to do?

“Does Scáth know about you?” I dared to ask, my voice trembling, barely able to get the words out. “Does he know what you’ve got planned?”

Ty’s lips curled into a sinister smile, something cruel flashing in his eyes.

“No,” he said, a quiet chuckle rumbling through him. “He’s clueless. Just how I planned it.”

A cold pit of dread settled in my stomach. Ty was in control, and Scáth had no idea. The man who had protected me, the one who would have never hurt me—he was in the dark. Helpless.

My chest tightened, panic swelling inside me. I had to bring Scáth back—I had to . If I lost him to this darker side of himself, I might never get him back.

But as I stared at him, standing before me like a towering storm, I realized how delicate this was.

One wrong word, one wrong move, and I might push him further into this… monster .

My heart pounded as I clung to the one thing I knew might break through his cold, terrifying exterior—the bond we’d shared.

Scáth’s feelings for me.

His love.

My Scáth, the one who watched over me, who protected me, who would never hurt me. If I could just tap into that, bring him back to the surface, maybe—just maybe—I could get him to remember who he really was.

Then Scáth would let me go.

“I know you care about me,” I said, my voice trembling but firm. I had to believe that the man I loved was still in there, buried under all this darkness.

His eyes flickered, the mask of cold indifference slipping for just a heartbeat before hardening again.

“Of course I care,” he growled, leaning closer until I could feel his breath on my skin, his lips brushing the edge of my jaw, the gentle touch so wrong against the cruel tension in his words. “I love you more, Ava. I always have.”

For a second, the words hung between us, and my heart squeezed painfully in my chest.

He loves me.

“Then if you love me, you wouldn’t hurt me,” I whispered, my voice desperate now, pleading. “The real you wouldn’t do this. I need you to remember that. ”

He paused, and for a moment his eyes softened.

Yes, please, Scáth. Come back to me.

But then his eyes hardened.

“You don’t get it, do you, Ava?” His voice was low, menacing, as though I’d missed some crucial piece of this twisted puzzle.

I swallowed hard, fear tightening around my throat like a noose. “Get what?”

His hand wrapped around my throat to pin my head to the wall, not hard enough to cut off my oxygen. But firm enough to make a point, to infuse his next words with deadly promise.

“I’m doing this because I love you.”

I had one last card to play—one desperate attempt to reach him, to reach Scáth .

Sometimes touch could be grounding, pulling someone back to the surface. Maybe if I could create that physical connection, it would spark something deep inside of him, something that could remind him of who he really was.

My heart pounded in my chest as I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him to me.

To my surprise, he didn’t fight me.

His lips crashed into mine.

God, please let this work.

With his free hand, he grabbed the wrist of the hand I had around his neck and he wrenched it off him, as if he couldn’t stand my touch. He pinned my hand above my head and kept his other hand around my throat, trapping me, as he took control of my mouth, my lips, my tongue.

Owning me.

Possessing me .

Taking my submission.

He didn’t make a sound. No soft groan of pleasure, no sigh against my lips the way Scáth would.

The silence felt suffocating, eerie, like he was holding back more than just his voice. As if even in this moment of supposed intimacy, he needed to maintain control, to remind me that he was in charge.

Yet my body responded instinctively, as though it was the man I loved, every nerve alight with conflicting sensations. Need surged through me, tightening my nipples to painful points, making my pussy ache and stealing groans from my throat.

My heart, however, slammed against my ribs in terror, a visceral reminder that this wasn’t the same man. That his kiss was different from Scáth’s—colder, more controlled, lacking the wildfire that I’d come to know.

God, I missed Scáth. I loved him. Please… come back to me.

I poured every ounce of that love into the kiss, as if somehow, by sheer force of will, I could reach inside him—deep down where Scáth was hiding—and pull him back. To save us both.

Ty tore his lips away from mine, the sudden loss of his touch so sharp it was like a slap.

I fought the urge to whimper, to show any weakness.

His eyes were dark and unreadable, not a single trace of warmth in them.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he said, his voice so casual, so detached, it made my stomach turn.

“No,” I forced out, my voice shaking but defiant. “I won’t do it. ”

I braced myself for his anger, for the explosion of rage that would follow my disobedience.

But instead, he just stared at me, cold and emotionless, like he was studying me, trying to figure out how best to break me.

“Oh, you’ll agree.” His voice was unnervingly calm, almost as though he were stating a fact. A promise.

“Never,” I spat, my chest tightening with each breath, but I refused to show him any fear. He couldn’t win. I wouldn’t let him.

Ty backed up slowly, his gaze never leaving mine. He moved with that predatory grace, all the way to the door, pausing just before he stepped out. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, one that sent a cold shiver down my spine.

“Fight me,” he said softly, almost teasingly. “I like it when you fight.”

And with that, he turned and slammed the door shut, the locks clicking into place with an eerie finality. The sound echoed in the room, but his words lingered even louder in the silence. His terrifying promise ringing in my ears.

“I won’t stop until you bend to my will.”