30. Ford
CHAPTER 30
FORD
“Alright, what’s so damn important that it couldn’t wait until after class?” Wes grumbles as he throws open the door to our apartment, slinging his backpack to the floor with a thud and stomping inside.
I roll my eyes at his theatrics, leaning back in the overstuffed recliner beside the TV and kicking an ankle up to rest on my knee. “Relax, nerd, you can get notes from someone later,” I drawl, my lips pulling into a lazy grin as I shift my gaze to Raf seated on the couch across the room. “You’re just in time for story hour.”
Wes’ brows draw inward as he strides into the living room to join us, looking to Raf in question as he sinks down on the opposite end of the black leather sofa. “What happened?”
Our broody leader still hasn’t even acknowledged Wes’ arrival. He’s just sitting there glaring at the coffee table with the intensity of a serial killer mid-hunt, thick arms crossed over his chest like he’s restraining himself from snapping a neck or two.
Pity he’s got that rage under control. I wouldn’t mind a little afternoon violence.
“Ava was attacked,” Raf bites out furiously, dangerously close to teetering over the edge. Strange that he’s so worked up since he claims he doesn’t give a shit about his new stepsister.
He’s not fooling anyone with his bullshit. Raf may claim he hates Ava, but he wants her twice as bad. I’ll bet he’s jerked his dick raw to that video I sent him from the loft.
“Attacked by who?” Wes demands, hands curling into fists on his lap.
Raf’s clearly not the only one letting his mask slip. Wes is taking this news a little too hard, the strain in his voice betraying his concern.
These two idiots are already pussy whipped, and they don’t even know it.
“Who do you think?” I scoff, my lip curling in distaste as I recall Raf’s recounting of events. “Chelsea and a couple of her minions cornered Ava in the bathroom, ripped off her clothes, and basically waterboarded her.”
Wes’ features twist with anguish as he runs a hand through his golden hair. I can practically see his wheels turning as he digests the information, brows pinching inward. “Stella–”
“Wasn’t one of them,” I cut in, rolling my eyes. “Your sister’s even softer than you are, she’s not capable of that level of depravity.”
“Fuck you,” Wes grumbles, tossing a throw pillow in my direction and turning his attention on Raf instead. “Where’s Ava now?”
“Downstairs in her room,” Raf mutters.
Wes nods slowly. “And Chelsea?”
“Hasn’t been dealt with yet,” Raf snaps, uncrossing his arms and sitting up like a wolf ready to pounce. “But she will be.”
There’s a dark edge to his voice that makes my blood hum with excitement. Raf’s the kind of guy who’s terrifyingly efficient when it comes to teaching people lessons, and I can’t wait to see what he’s got planned for Chelsea Carson. That spoiled little cunt deserves whatever’s coming to her.
“Shit,” Wes hisses, scrubbing a hand over his face. “If Ava wasn’t thinking about making a run for it before, she sure as shit is now.”
“Ah, but you haven’t heard the best part of the story yet,” I drawl, grinning from ear to ear as I swing my gaze back on Raf. “Should I tell him, or do you wanna do the honors?”
Raf glares back at me, the muscle in his tightly clenched jaw feathering. While Wes took his sweet time getting here from his Economics class across campus, the two of us discussed the best way to approach this, revisiting last night’s argument. Turns out, with the right kind of motivation, the man can see reason after all.
Shit, maybe I should thank Chelsea for being such a wretched bitch.
Wes glances between Raf and me, squinting as he tries to read the situation. “Are you gonna leave me in suspense?”
Raf’s obviously not gonna say it, so I’m all too happy to step in and do the honors.
“Raf changed his mind,” I declare gleefully, lit up like a damn kid on Christmas morning. “He wants to make Ava our Doll.”
Wes flinches back in surprise, whipping his head toward Raf. “But I thought you said…”
“I know what I said, but this has gotten out of control,” Raf growls in a low, menacing tone, as if he’s thinking about how best to kill a man with his bare hands. He leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, stabbing his fingers through his inky black hair. “It’s the only way to keep her in line while also keeping up appearances.”
Wes’ wide-eyed gaze flickers over to me and I smirk back at him smugly, watching his expression shift from skeptical to intrigued as he processes the news.
“Like we discussed last night, it’ll be in name only,” I say, tucking my arms behind my head as I recline back in my chair. “No initiation or involving the Invictus.”
“You don’t think they’ll find out?” Wes scoffs disbelievingly.
I shoot him a pointed look, warning him to shut his trap if he wants this to happen.
“Gideon said he’d come for her soon, so that won’t be a problem,” Raf mutters.
Wes rises from the couch and paces across the room, each stride heavy with thought. “So, when are we breaking the news to her?” he asks, swiping a hand over his chin. “And what if she fights us on it?”
“Kinda hope she does,” I say with a devilish smirk.
Raf grunts his agreement, but there’s a flicker of something uneasy in his expression. He’ll never admit it, but I can tell that finding Ava in the bathroom today rattled him. He’s so out of touch that he doesn’t realize how deeply that girl has burrowed under his skin.
Wes is still pacing, his brow creased in agitation.
“You’re not gonna pussy out, are you?” I ask him.
“No,” Wes replies sharply. “I was just thinking of how to spin it for the path of least resistance.”
“Easy,” I say with full confidence. “It’s either submit to us or keep dodging attacks in the bathroom. I’d take option A if I were her.”
“That’s if she doesn’t run first,” Wes counters.
“Which is why we’re doing this now,” Raf huffs, pushing up from the couch.
“Now?” Wes echoes, eyeing Raf cautiously. It’s no secret how wound up he is.
“What, you wanna get her a welcome basket or something?” I chuckle darkly, rising to my feet and cracking my knuckles.
Wes flips me the bird, but a reluctant grin spreads across his face. He’s fully on board with this, even if he’s still scrambling to play catch-up.
“Is she moving in right away?” he asks eagerly, eyes gleaming with cruel intent at the prospect of having her under his roof and thumb.
“That’s the plan,” I tell him, stepping over to clap a hand down on his shoulder. “Welcome her to the neighborhood and all that.”
“You mean tell her she’s screwed,” he chuckles, finally absorbing the full scope of our scheme.
“That too,” I shrug.
Raf takes the lead, the three of us making our way toward the door.
“Ava Morrow, the new Doll,” Wes muses, another grin breaking through.
“And not a damn thing she can do about it,” I add, already savoring the taste of our inevitable victory.