34. Ava
CHAPTER 34
AVA
The Kings’ world bleeds into me in ways I don't expect. Just shy of a week into becoming their Doll, and I’ve already grown accustomed to having three permanent bodyguards constantly in my space, ordering me around like their goddamn servant. In turn, the other students on campus are suddenly eager to serve me , rushing to hold open doors and sending me to the front of the line at the coffee cart. They’re all so friendly now, so annoyingly enthusiastic to get to know me.
They’re all fake. Their sudden interest is in the necklace I’m wearing, not in me as a person. I’m under no illusion that the Kings are decent men, but they’re the only ones here who aren’t pretending. They may be monsters, but at least they own that shit, for better or for worse.
I hate how comfortable I’ve become with my trio of tormentors. Yesterday morning, I found myself looking forward to stepping out of Sutton Hall and finding Ford puffing on a cigarette, hitting me with a sly, ‘Hey, Ava baby’. Later in the afternoon, I almost enjoyed the little spat Wes and I had on our way to class. Even walking silently beside Raf is starting to feel like something I might actually want , and the fact that I’m growing complacent in this role is a huge red flag that I can’t ignore.
It’s not supposed to be this way. I should hate them; hate all of this. I should be finding ways to bring the Kings down, not trotting up to Raf like an excited puppy as he demands that we leave for class. I’m firmly caught in a web of their making, and the only person I truly hate right now is myself for the way I’ve given in.
The four of us coordinate leaving Sutton Hall together like we have every morning since I became their Doll. Ford’s waiting outside when Raf and I exit the building, leaning back against the brick with a cigarette hanging from his lips. He tosses it away and pushes off from the wall as we step out, grinning when we lock eyes.
“Good morning, Ava baby,” he predictably croons, tossing me a wink.
I try to cut him my best glare, but at this point, it’s more for show than anything else. He knows it, too, grinning back at me like the smug bastard he is.
Wes joins us next, striding toward the dorms from the direction of the quad with a coffee cup in each hand. I roll my eyes as he hands one over, but I can’t deny the flicker of thrill that runs through me when our fingers brush.
Everything’s so different now that I’m their Doll, and I’m still not sure whether that’s a good or a bad thing.
Wes passes the other coffee off to Raf, the Kings flanking me as we start walking. They’re parading me through campus like a trophy once again, but the strangest thing about it is how little I mind. All eyes follow us, our fellow students eating up the spectacle as if we’re celebrities. They keep their distance, parting like water as we move through, and I see it in their eyes– the awe, the fear, the respect that was never there before. It’s dizzying, this shift in how they look at me. Like I’m something more than I am.
Special. Powerful.
It’s a dangerous, intoxicating feeling.
We pass a group of girls huddling close, whispering and casting wary glances in our direction. I realize why when I spot Chelsea on the periphery, and for a second, I almost feel bad at how pitiful she looks, stuck on the outside looking in. I hold her gaze longer than I should, but she breaks first, turning away and scuttling down the nearest path. Seeing her retreat like that feels way better than it should, and I can’t help but wonder if the Kings’ cruelty is starting to rub off on me, too.
When we reach the center of the quad, Wes heads off to grab another coffee for himself, stepping right to the front of the line to place his order. Ford snags another cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket and lights it, blowing a thin stream of smoke my way when he catches me watching, winking again. I act like I hate it, as well as the stupid smirk that slips across his handsome face after, but now I’m the one lying.
“See you later, Ava baby,” he drawls, veering off down an intersecting path to head to class. The other students scramble to get out of his way, terrified of the dark shadow sweeping toward them.
“Lunch,” Wes reminds me when he returns from the coffee cart, a promise and command wrapped in one word. I should be more offended than I am, but I nod in assent, blushing when he smiles at me before heading off to class.
Then it’s just me and Raf. He silently starts forward, expecting me to follow, and it feels like second nature when I do. We walk the path to our Spanish class without exchanging a word. It’s his thing, I’m learning– this silence that somehow manages to say more than the noise everyone else makes. I fidget with the tuck of my shirt in the waistband of my skirt, keeping my hands busy while my mind spins out of control. He keeps a step ahead the whole way, only pausing to hold the door for me to catch up when we enter the building, then the lecture hall.
We part ways as soon as we step inside, Raf heading to the back left corner of the room while I head for the back right. I initially feared that the seating arrangement in our shared classes might change after I became their Doll, but Raf seems content to keep his distance.
It shouldn’t bother me.
I’m not sure why Raf even wanted me to fill the position, considering he seems to loathe my existence even more than I despise him. Despite our recent cohabitation, my stepbrother remains shrouded in mystery.
As I stride down the row to my seat, I’m relieved to see the only person here who’s never judged me. Bryce looks up as I approach him, that laid-back smile spreading across his face as he tips his chair back on two legs.
“Well, well. You’re alive,” he teases.
“Surprised?” I laugh, dropping into the seat beside him.
“Was starting to think maybe you’d been abducted by aliens,” he snickers, gripping onto the table for leverage as he rocks his chair back and forth gently. “Stopped by your dorm the other day, Richelle said you moved out.”
I flinch at Richelle’s name, instantly trying to cover it with a shrug. “Apparently I have new digs.”
“You can say that again, Doll,” he drawls, eyes dropping to the crown charm glinting at the base of my throat. “Didn’t think you were their type.”
“What, brunette?” I ask, twirling a strand of hair around my finger and trying my best not to take offense to his comment.
“Possessing more than one brain cell,” he deadpans.
I snort a laugh, shaking my head as I reach down into my backpack to pull out my textbook. When I straighten and set it on the table in front of me, I find Bryce staring me down, eyes rounded in concern.
“Seriously, though, they treating you okay?” he asks quietly, furrowing his brow as he leans in.
“I’m fine,” I sigh, waving him off with the flick of a wrist. “For now. But the revolution is still a go.”
His lips curve into a devious grin. “Fuck yeah, babe. Just say when, and I’m by your side.”
I smile back at him, warmth blooming in my chest. From the look in his eyes, he knows damn well that I’m downplaying this, but he’s content to wait for me to tell him the truth on my own. Because Bryce is the freaking best , and I don’t deserve a friend like him.
Later in the afternoon, the campus is buzzing with the end-of-day shuffle as I walk toward Professor Turner’s office, clutching a stack of books to my chest. Students swarm around me, granting me a wide berth since I’m officially untouchable. I say a little prayer that Turner hasn’t already left for the day as I slip into the administrative building that houses the professors’ offices, stopping in my tracks when I spot Ford leaving the same one I’m headed toward, buckling his belt on the way out the door.
The sight of it hits me like a punch to the gut. Suddenly I’m just standing there frozen, trying to make sense of what I’m seeing. It feels like I should turn away, go anywhere but here, but my feet are suddenly rooted to the spot I’m standing in. Ford starts my way, and when our eyes meet, a sharp twisting sensation erupts in my chest.
"Whatcha doin’ here, Ava baby?"
Ford’s voice cuts through my haze, so relaxed that I almost don’t recognize it. He crosses the hall, moving toward me with an arrogant swagger, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
I’m staring at his hands as they finish with his belt, too stunned to answer. I only lift my gaze when he stops right in front of me, jerking my chin up to glare into those hazel eyes.
"Ford," I finally manage, but it’s barely a whisper.
"Miss me already?" He cocks his head playfully, a smug grin stretching his lips.
I don’t know what to say, how to react. Every shred of rational thought evaporates and all that’s left is a suffocating cloud of emotions I can’t even name.
"Does the sight of me really leave you speechless?" he asks with a lazy chuckle.
I open my mouth only to close it again, sucking in a deep breath through my nose. "I just thought…” I trail off, shaking my head. “I don’t even know what I thought."
Ford gives me a slow, knowing grin. "Didn’t realize you cared."
His words slice through the fog in my brain, leaving me exposed and raw. Maybe I do care, and that single realization is worst of all.
If I’m theirs , then aren’t they also mine ?
Ford answers the question without me asking it, seemingly reading my damn mind.
“You belong to us, Ava baby,” he says, licking his upper teeth. “Not the other way around."
The swagger in his step as he turns and leaves twists the knife even deeper. I’m left standing in the hallway, trying to piece together what the hell just happened and why I reacted the way I did. I glare after him, feeling stupid and small and so unbelievably na?ve.
By the time I gather myself enough to proceed to Professor Turner’s office and knock on the door, I’m seriously considering just bolting. If all the students on campus know what this necklace means, then surely she does, too. How stupid am I gonna look, waltzing into her office being owned by the Kings when it’s so painfully obvious that she just hooked up with one of them?
Or maybe she’s another victim. It occurs to me that Ford could’ve coerced her into performing sexual favors, just like he’s done to me. We could be kindred spirits, both unwittingly fallen prey to the Kings.
Turner’s voice calls for me to come in, and my fingers twitch around the textbooks I’m gripping, aching to nervously smooth my skirt or tuck my hair. I push the door open and step into an obscenely cluttered office, my young, beautiful professor sitting behind a desk in the middle of the mayhem.
“Can I help you?” she asks, far too chipper for an unwilling victim.
So, it was mutual, then. Her and Ford. The two of them…
I shake my head to dispel the torrent of destructive thoughts, quickly schooling my expression. “I… I’m Ava Morrow,” I manage, my voice coming out more wobbly than I’d like. “I’m in your English Lit class.” I fumble through the stack of books in my hands for the assignment tucked in the front of one of them– the one that seemed so important a few minutes ago, but is now the furthest thing from my mind.
“Of course, Ava!” Turner smiles, gesturing to the chair on the opposite side of her desk. “Please, take a seat. What can I do for you?”
I move to sit, my books slipping from my grip and hitting the floor. Words tangle in my throat, as I stoop to pick them up, my thoughts spinning too fast to catch hold of. I don’t even know why I’m here anymore. I don’t know why I care.
Turner patiently waits for me to collect my belongings, watching me with an expectant smile as my posture stiffens in the chair across from her. Her office feels too warm, too cluttered, too much. I force myself to speak, but everything sounds hollow and far away, like someone else is talking. My head’s still reeling, but she’s nodding along like this is just another meeting, like I’m just another student.
The assignment that seemed so urgent now feels trivial, but I stumble through my questions nonetheless, hoping I make enough sense that she doesn’t catch on to how shattered I am inside.
She scribbles a few book titles on a piece of paper, handing it to me with an encouraging nod. I take it, not sure what to even do with it, not sure what any of this means anymore.
“Just let me know if you need anything else,” Turner chirps as I get up to leave, her voice bright and unbothered.
I leave the office in a daze, Ford’s words echoing louder than anything my professor said in that meeting.
You belong to us, not the other way around.
My feet carry me back outside, the chill in the air nipping at my exposed knees beneath my skirt. The crowd on campus has thinned out, but I barely notice as I numbly start in what I hope is the direction of the dorms.
But I’m more lost than ever, and I don’t even know how to find myself again.