25. Ford
CHAPTER 25
FORD
“Do you think Raf went too far last weekend?” Wes grumbles, mashing the buttons on the gaming controller in his hands as he fights the enemy soldiers on screen.
Even if I wasn’t a goddamn genius, which I am , I’d immediately understand what he’s referencing. Or rather, who , because he can’t seem to stop bringing it up.
Ava has been sullen and withdrawn all week, barely speaking to either of us. She never tries to talk to Raf, so nothing’s changed there, but she was at least somewhat conversational with me and Wes before Raf made her give me head in front of half the student body.
Now, it’s crickets.
As if she didn’t enjoy it.
Which is insane, because women love my cock. Beg for it, even. And I let her have it for free.
You’d think she’d be thanking me.
“You’re not getting soft on us, are you?” I murmur, eyes focused on the TV screen as I maneuver my player over to cover Wes’. The idiot is always leaving himself open for an attack.
“No, I’m just trying to play the long game here,” he replies, hissing in a breath through his teeth as he narrowly evades a spray of enemy gunfire. “What fun is it if we break her too soon?”
It may just be his fragile conscience speaking, but he’s got a point. We’re only just getting started with Ava, and I’m not ready for our game to end, either. Jerking off to that video daily doesn’t quite scratch the itch that’s been festering beneath my skin since that first night we played with her.
There’s something different about this one, and it’s affecting all of us.
“Guess that’s for Raf to decide,” I reply blandly, giving up on covering Wes to focus on getting more kills under my belt instead. Saving his ass does nothing for my own game. “He might be letting us share in the fun, but this is still his revenge to dole out,” I remind him.
“Damn right it is,” Raf chimes in as he sweeps into the room like a phantom. He glances over at the TV, giving himself a front row seat to the impressive killing spree I’m currently on.
Murder’s more fun with an audience.
“I’ve got next,” he mumbles as he watches the massacre on screen.
Wes lets out an irritated grunt when his player takes a fatal hit, tossing the controller down on the couch between us as ‘game over’ flashes across his half of the screen. “All yours,” he mutters to Raf, pushing up from his seat and sliding his phone out of his pocket as he heads for the kitchen.
Raf immediately claims Wes’ spot, settling in on the couch, picking up the controller, and respawning his player. He then wastes no time in charging right into battle, joining me on my rampage.
“Uh, guys?” Wes calls out from the other room.
Neither of us respond, both completely absorbed in the game we’re playing. These graphics are tits; the blood spray looks deliciously real.
Kinda wish it was– it’s been too long since I’ve had blood on my hands.
Wes stomps back over from the kitchen with a huff, tossing his phone down on the coffee table in front of us. It lands with a thud and my eyes flicker down to it for a fraction of a second, then bounce back up to the TV screen.
“What’s that?” I ask boredly.
“Got it from one of the minions,” he replies, an edge of tension in his tone as he gestures to the phone. “See for yourself.”
I heave a sigh of annoyance as I toss my controller aside. He’d better not be wasting my time with this shit.
Leaning forward, I swipe his phone up, furrowing my brow in confusion as my eyes focus on the photo displayed on the screen. It takes my brain a second to even comprehend what I’m seeing.
When it does, though, an irrational rush of rage sweeps through me, my grip tightening around the phone and my jaw clenching. It’s a picture of a couple, their arms wound tightly around one another in an embrace. And though you can only see the back of the girl’s head, the little plaid skirt she’s wearing is a dead giveaway as to her identity.
“Who the fuck is that ?” I growl, squinting my eyes to try to make out the guy’s facial features in the grainy, long-distance shot.
Raf tosses his own controller aside and snatches Wes’ phone from me, peering down at the screen. The muscle in his jaw feathers, his nostrils flaring.
“Either of you recognize him?” Wes asks, his gaze bouncing between the two of us.
“No, but he’s a fucking dead man,” I mutter.
Raf draws in a deep breath through his nose, exhaling slowly as he leans forward to hand Wes his phone back. “Clearly the lesson we taught her on Friday night didn’t stick,” he says, his voice eerily calm. The way he can compartmentalize his emotions is truly a thing of beauty.
I, however, don’t have the same level of control.
Not even close .
“Who the fuck’s the guy, though?” I snarl, shooting to my feet and snatching Wes’ phone from him. “Everyone knows she’s Kings property.” I glare down at the picture, mashing a finger against the screen, right over his stupid face. “This motherfucker…”
“Doesn’t matter,” Raf snaps, cutting me off. He swipes the phone out of my hand and passes it back to Wes.
I turn my glare on him, mouth falling open. “Like hell it doesn’t!”
“Raf’s right, this is on her ,” Wes murmurs, sweeping his hand over his chin in quiet contemplation as he examines the photo on his phone screen again. “She knew the rules, just like she knew what could happen if she broke them.”
“Exactly,” Raf agrees. He pushes up from the couch, and though he’s acting completely calm and composed right now, his shoulders are bunched, his posture tense.
“So how are we handling this, then?” I ask as my head swivels to look between them, fury still simmering beneath my skin like a living, breathing thing.
I suddenly want to break something.
Maybe some one .
Starting with the douchebag in that photo, preferably.
“Looks like we’ll have to remind her who she belongs to,” Raf replies ominously. “Something more… permanent .”
I snap my head in his direction, my upper lip curling back from my teeth in a maniacal grin as the meaning of his statement registers. “Are you saying…?”
His eyes lock with mine and he gives me a single nod. “Get your gun.”