38. Ford
CHAPTER 38
FORD
Whenever Raf rages out and goes AWOL, odds are he’s at the gym. One look at his massive build tells you just how often he needs to burn off his anger. When he’s close to the edge, barely holding it together, this is where he comes to sweat it out, trying to exorcise the darkness clawing at his insides.
I slap a palm against the glass door and push into the weight room, the muted thud of my footsteps swallowed by the thick rubber flooring. Except for Raf, the place is empty– the Kings have exclusive access at this hour. Even if that wasn’t the case, though, I’m betting anyone who entered would take one look at him and run the hell away. Bad energy rolls off Raf in waves as he powers through reps on the bench press, skin slick with sweat.
He spots me from the corner of his eye and slams the bar back onto the rack with a metallic crash, abs tightening as he curls up to sit.
“For the record, I didn’t tell her to write that,” I say as I approach.
He swivels in my direction, resting his arms on his knees and hanging his head. “I know,” he grits out, still sounding pissed.
“You gonna let her get away with it?” I ask, just to poke the bear.
“Fuck off, Ford.”
His retort lacks its usual bite, which only confirms my suspicions. Ava’s worked herself all the way under his skin, fucking with his head in ways he hasn’t even fully grasped yet.
Raf shoves up to his feet with a heavy sigh, rolling his neck on shoulders to alleviate the tension in his muscles as he starts for the rack of free weights along the wall.
“So what’re you gonna do?” I ask as I move to follow him, genuinely curious. “How are you gonna punish her for writing that shit?”
He shoots me a dark look that promises retribution. “Don’t ask me right now.”
“Fine.” I step over to lean against the wall, watching as he paces back and forth along the weight rack like a caged animal. “How ‘bout I get you a fight to burn off some of that aggression, then,” I offer.
He grunts in affirmation, bailing on the free weights and pacing back over to the weight bench. Settling in underneath the bar again, he grips on and starts another furious set of reps.
I admire his dedication, but he’s gonna kill himself if he keeps pushing this hard in an effort to contain his anger. There’s something dangerous about the way he’s currently struggling to keep it together– it reminds me of how he was after his first kill order, always on the edge of losing his shit completely. Back then, he was smaller, weaker. Now he looks like a fucking monster, and I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to keep him in check if he gets it in his head to take everything he wants by force.
I’m also not sure I’ll be able to stop myself from grabbing the popcorn and watching when that finally happens.
Raf’s chest heaves with exertion as he pumps the weight bar over and over, glaring up at the ceiling like the tiles wronged him somehow. I can practically see the wheels in his head turning as he stews over an appropriate punishment for Ava. Our delicate little Doll is in for it– I’ve never seen him so out of control, not even when his mother was dying and he hulk-smashed the hospital waiting room when his dad said he wasn’t coming to witness her final breaths.
Propping myself up against the wall with a shoulder, I shove a hand into my pocket and pull out my cigarette pack, lighting one up in defiance of the ‘No Smoking’ signs the janitorial staff keep hanging in here.
Dare them to say something about it to my face.
“Want me to see if I can get you a match next week?” I ask absently, digging a hand into my pocket to pull out my phone.
The door to the weight room bursts open and Wes storms through to join us, looking way too irritated for someone who just blew his load while licking our girl to orgasm.
Given Raf’s current spiral, we should probably keep that between us for now.
“The fuck’s wrong with you?” I ask Wes, arching a curious brow.
He scowls back at me, stabbing his fingers through his hair. “Getting real sick of fielding texts from the plebs about the setup for the Halloween party.”
“Halloween party?” I echo, taking a long drag from my cigarette and exhaling the smoke in his direction.
Wes’ lip curls in disgust– probably more at my lack of priorities than the plume of smoke. “Yeah, Ford. Halloween. It’s this weekend, in case you’ve forgotten.”
I shrug. “So? That shit’s been planned for months. Aren’t we just doing the same thing as last year?”
Wes rolls his eyes. “Yes, but they need direction. We don’t want a repeat of the fucking glitter incident.”
I snort a laugh, recalling how many showers it took for him to get that shit out of his hair. Glancing over at Raf, I expect him to at least crack a smile, but he just keeps right on lifting.
“You should make someone else take point on it,” I murmur absently, puffing on my cigarette while watching the weight bar rise and fall in a steady rhythm. “Not that it matters. All you need for a good Halloween party is a shitload of booze and girls in slutty costumes who are down to fuck.”
“Pretty much,” Wes snickers, giving Raf a sidelong glance. “You gonna chime in here, bro?”
The Halloween party is typically Raf’s favorite of the year– let’s be real, a haunted house is just an excuse to scare the shit out of people for sport– but right now, he couldn’t seem less interested.
I roll my eyes as I stub out my cigarette on the wall, turning my phone over in my hand. “I’ve gotta get him a fight ASAP,” I mutter, opening up my text thread with Benny. “Once he–”
My words abruptly trail off as my phone rings with a distinctive tone, the caller identified by a single crow emoji.
Wes looks at me, and I can see the same tension reflected in his eyes that’s tightening my chest. Raf returns the bar to the rack and sits up on the bench, looking over at me with a brow cocked, probably wondering why I haven’t answered the call yet.
You don’t keep the Invictus waiting.
I blink down at the screen, mashing the button to pick up and put it on speaker.
“The Invictus understands that you’ve chosen a Doll,” a robotic voice on the other end states, disguised by a voice modulator.
“News travels fast,” I muse, eyes pinging up to meet Wes’. His own are wide, the color draining from his face.
“She hasn’t been properly vetted or initiated,” the mechanical voice continues. “The high council is displeased.”
“And here I thought they’d just be glad we finally chose,” I scoff. My grip tightens around my phone, pulse kicking up a notch.
I usually love creepy shit, but that voice haunts my fucking nightmares.
“Prepare her to be initiated,” they reply, this time with a hint of menace. “We’ll let you know when to bring her to the crypt.”
I open my mouth to respond, but the call disconnects, a heavy silence descending.
Wes is the first to break it with an exasperated, “Told you they’d find out.” He paces a few steps away, scrubbing a hand over his face in frustration. “So they’re making us go through with it?”
“They can’t make us do anything,” Raf mutters.
I dart a glance his way, furrowing my brow. I knew the guy was out of his mind, but I wasn’t aware he’d crossed into straight up delusion.
“Wanna bet?” I snort. “They practically ordered us to hand her over.”
Raf eases to his feet, casually stretching his arms over his head as if we didn’t just get a bomb dropped on us. “The pact says we control everything on this campus,” he states. “They can’t set foot here without our say-so.”
“And?” Wes challenges, jaw set like stone.
I have no idea why he’s so bent outta shape about this– he’s obsessed with Ava, he should be throwing a fucking parade right now at the news we might get to keep her.
“ And , all we’ve gotta do is hold them off for another week or so,” Raf murmurs. “Gideon said he’s coming for her, so if they call before then, we’ll come up with some bullshit excuse to push her initiation.”
Shit, I forgot Gideon said he’d take Ava off our hands.
Wes and I exchange a look, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am.
We’re not ready to let her go.
“Maybe we should let it happen,” I suggest, keeping my tone casual. “Initiate her, I mean. If we get rid of Ava baby, they’ll just make us choose another Doll, and the next one might not be so compliant.”
“No,” Raf barks, eyes darkening. “That’s not happening.”
I watch him carefully, waiting for a crack to appear in his hard veneer. When it doesn’t, I turn away and pretend I don’t give a shit, but it only takes a second before I can’t resist the urge to bite back.
“You really think you can get outta this?” I ask, tossing the question over my shoulder like a careless barb.
“This isn’t just about you, Raf,” Wes growls. “We’re a fucking triad. We need to do what’s best for all of us, and if Ava’s ours…”
“She’s mine ,” Raf snaps, eyes blazing with fury as he stomps in our direction, the vein in his neck bulging. “ Mine to punish. Mine to break. And mine to decide when she goes and where.”
“She’s ours ,” I correct, taking a step forward and leveling him with a glare to rival his own. “Like Wes said, we’re a fucking triad, asshole. Blood in, blood out. Or are you forgetting what all this is even for?”
Raf’s hands ball into fists at his sides, clenching tighter until his knuckles turn white. “Fuck you, Ford,” he spits, a bead of sweat streaking down the side of his face. “Go tell your little pet to write a fucking paper about you, next time.”
I roll my eyes, raising a fist and flipping him the bird.
He can blame me all he wants, but I’m not the one he’s really mad at.
Spoiler alert– neither is Ava.
“C’mon, let’s get outta here,” I grumble to Wes, decidedly over Raf’s tantrum. “Let this dickhead keep lifting without a spotter and break his goddamn neck.”
I slam my shoulder into Raf’s as I shove past him, boots pounding the floor like a warning as I stomp out of the weight room.