39. Ava
CHAPTER 39
AVA
I wake up from a pleasant dream in a bed that’s too big, in a room that’s too cold and unfamiliar. It takes me a second to get my bearings, and when I do, I wish I could just close my eyes and go back to dreaming.
It’s not that the apartment itself is bad. I thought the dorms were lush, but the penthouse of Sutton Hall is ten times as decadent. My bedroom here is twice the size of the one I shared with Richelle downstairs, and don’t even get me started on the en-suite bathroom. I’m living in the lap of luxury, and under different circumstances, I’d be happy as a clam.
The circumstances are the problem, though. I signed my life over to the Kings when I moved in, and every day I wake up here is just another that I’m still their prisoner.
I drag myself out of bed and toss on a sweatshirt, the smell of coffee pulling me toward the kitchen. The closer I get, the louder the dull hum of voices becomes, until I round the corner to find all three of my roommates seated at the table. They’re hunched over like a pack of jackals with a fresh kill, murmuring a quiet conversation that I’m definitely not supposed to hear.
It’d be a perfect time to eavesdrop, but then a floorboard creaks beneath my weight and I’m caught before I even get the chance. Their heads snap in my direction simultaneously, whispered words dying on their lips.
Wes smiles.
Ford smirks.
Raf just pushes up from his seat and stalks past me, his cold shoulder treatment giving me frostbite.
I shift my weight uncomfortably as his footsteps retreat down the hall behind me toward his bedroom, heart pounding and mouth running dry. I try to play it cool, forcing a weak smile as I continue into the kitchen, but I hate how Raf just bails every time I walk into a room now.
Like an idiot, I actually thought he might apologize after storming into my bedroom and almost taking my head off. That he’d take some time to cool down, and then we could have a rational, adult conversation. I had my own apology all planned out, rehearsed it over and over in my head while I waited for him to acknowledge the rift between us. Instead, he’s just continued to freeze me out.
It hurts more than I care to admit.
“Well, good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Ford drawls, the velvety tone of his voice easing some of my tension as he breaks the awkward silence.
“You’re up early,” Wes remarks with a roguish grin.
“I smelled coffee,” I mumble, eyes darting between the mugs on the table, then to the machine on the counter.
“Help yourself,” Wes remarks, lifting his own cup and taking a sip.
I breeze past them to head for it, propelled by the promise of caffeine.
“It’s your lucky day,” Ford tells me as I pull open a cabinet and reach in for a mug. “We’ve got some things to take care of off campus, so you’ll have a new escort to class today.”
The coffee mug nearly slips from my hands as I whip around to gape at Ford.
“You know, for your protection,” he adds, winking. “Gotta hold up our end of the bargain, Doll.”
“Right,” I breathe, forcing a nod– though inside, I’m panicking.
As much as I loathe the Kings’ company, it’s familiar now. I know their patterns.
Better the devils I know than one I don’t.
Ford’s tattoos dance across his throat as he tips his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “Don’t worry, Ava baby,” he croons. “He wants our bid to initiate, so he’ll be on his best behavior.”
I pivot back around to fill my mug, pulse suddenly racing with trepidation. The dark liquid splashes against the pristine white ceramic, whorls of steam curling from the rim.
“And what about me?” I ask, trying my best to come off as casual. “When will I learn more about the initiation?”
I turn just in time to see Ford’s eyes flicker to Wes, something silently passing between them.
“Soon,” Wes sighs, easing to his feet. “Your escort will be here at eight, so you should probably get ready.”
I glance at the clock on the microwave, mentally calculating how much time I’ll need to put myself together before then. “Do I get to ask why you’re leaving campus?” I mumble.
“You can ask, but I think you already know it’s strictly Kings’ business, not for your ears,” Ford replies, hazel eyes glinting with amusement. “Why else would you have been trying to tiptoe down the hall and listen in?”
The heat rising to my cheeks gives me away before I can even try denying it. I turn away to hide my blush, making a beeline for the fridge.
“You’re right, I should probably go get ready,” I mutter, pulling open the door and reaching inside for the coffee creamer. They said they didn’t have any the first morning I was here, but a bottle of vanilla creamer appeared the next day, and it’s remained stocked since.
Definitely Wes’ doing, since he knows how I take my coffee.
I pour a healthy amount into my cup, retreating to my bedroom to drink it in peace– or what relative peace I can find, while stewing in my own anxiety. I’m dressed and ready by eight, and right on cue, a knock at the door echoes through the apartment.
My legs are unsteady as I move down the hall toward it, a feeling of dread sinking in my chest. Wes answers the door before I can reach it, and I’m not sure who I was expecting, but one look at the baby-faced guy on the other side has me breathing a sigh of relief.
“Ava, this is Paul,” Wes calls, glancing back at me over his shoulder. Though his bulky frame mostly blocks my view of my new escort, I know I’ve seen this guy before. I’m pretty sure he’s in our Stats class, and he’s decidedly non-threatening.
“Uh, hi, Ava,” Paul greets as I come up behind Wes, running a nervous hand through his auburn hair before extending it toward me. “Paul Wilkins.”
I go to move past Wes to shake his hand, but the blonde Adonis is quick to sling an arm over my shoulders, pulling me back.
“You remember what we talked about, Paul?” Wes asks, his tone perfectly friendly, yet somehow also menacing.
“Don’t look, don’t touch, don’t fuck this up,” Paul replies perfunctorily, echoing the threat he's clearly been given.
“That’s right,” Wes winks, turning his attention back to me. “Let us know if he gives you any trouble, babe.”
“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” I breathe, ducking out from under his arm and slipping out the door.
“See you at the party tonight,” Wes calls, flashing me another one of those trademark grins as he lingers in the doorway, watching me leave.
I almost forgot it’s Halloween. The date snuck up fast– not that I was paying much attention. I’m too wrapped up in my own drama lately to even remember what day it is half the time, let alone keep track of holidays that I’ve never celebrated. Mom always said Halloween was just an excuse for people to hide their bad behavior behind masks, but I’ve recently discovered that the worst of them are the ones who show you exactly who they are– the ones with the kind of smiles that draw you back in willingly for another dose of pain.
The cold morning air hits like a slap when Paul and I exit Sutton Hall, but I’m grateful for the jolt. It sharpens me, makes me feel more alive after the hollowness of my morning. It’s strange to walk through campus without my men, and even stranger to think of them as belonging to me in some capacity. They’ve made it abundantly clear that this isn’t a two-way street. Like Ford said, I belong to them, not the other way around.
The whispers start almost immediately as Paul escorts me through campus, and though I’m used to the attention, my new bodyguard isn’t. He glances over at me with wide eyes, bristling under the scrutiny of our peers.
“So, Paul,” I say, trying to break the tension. “Where are you from?”
He startles like he wasn’t expecting me to speak to him, mumbling something about a small town.
“What’s your major?” I press, hoping some friendly small talk will distract me from the growing knot in my stomach.
“Engineering,” he replies, hesitating before asking, “What about you?”
“I… honestly don’t even know,” I admit, barking a hollow laugh. “I was majoring in business before I came here, but the guys switched my classes around, so now I’m not sure if I’m even working toward a particular major at all.”
Paul’s brows draw in, eyes narrowing on me. “Why would they do that?”
“Seriously?” I snort. “You know the Kings do whatever they want. I mean, they’re making you skip your classes today to sit through mine.”
“Yeah,” he huffs, hands tightening around his backpack straps as he glares down at the pavement. “Sorry, this whole thing just really sucks.”
“Babysitting duty?” I try to joke, though my voice comes out strained.
Paul looks up at me again, a blush rising to his cheeks. “No, that they aren’t treating you right. If you were mine, I definitely would.”
“Oh,” I breathe, caught off guard by the random and wildly inappropriate confession. I don’t even know this guy– but then again, the fact that he’s already picked up on how poorly I’ve been treated by the Kings speaks volumes. “Well, thanks, Paul.”
“Please don't tell them I said that,” he quickly tacks on, blanching.
I force a brittle smile. “Your secret's safe with me,” I promise.
He relaxes, if only a little. “Thanks. You’re, uh, a lot nicer than they say.”
“Yeah, well, stick around,” I mutter wryly. “You might change your mind.”
He looks like he’s ready to prove me wrong, but we’ve arrived at the building for my first class, and I hurry inside to escape the chilly morning and awkward conversation. Paul trails behind like a shadow as I enter the lecture hall for my Spanish class, the room already filling up with students. I look for Bryce, spotting him in his usual seat and heading straight for him.
“Hey,” I greet brightly, dropping into the chair beside him.
Bryce cocks a brow at the sight of Paul hovering behind me. “New pet?”
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “They’re gone for the day, so he’s my new bodyguard. Cute, right?”
Bryce smirks, eyes raking up and down Paul’s body to give him a once-over. “Scram, Wilkins. I can take it from here.”
Paul hesitates, clearly torn between Bryce’s demand and the Kings’ orders.
I glance back at him over my shoulder, taking advantage of his recently confessed crush by flirting a little. “It’s fine, really,” I reassure, batting my lashes. “They’re good with me hanging with Bryce.”
He hesitates a beat longer before jerking a nod, reluctantly moving to the opposite end of the row to keep an eye on me from afar.
“Can’t even sit through class without a bodyguard,” I grumble, rolling my eyes.
Bryce nudges me with an elbow. “Hey, some girls would kill for that kind of attention.”
“Some girls are stupid.”
He laughs; an easy, friendly sound that lifts my spirits more than I care to admit. Our Spanish professor clears his throat to begin his lecture, and I swing my gaze to the front of the room and settle in my chair, eager for an hour’s reprieve from the barrage of questions pounding my brain this morning.
Paul is waiting for me outside the doors of the lecture hall after the class is dismissed, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like he has to pee. Bryce links his arm through mine, steering me toward the big double-doors to exit the building, and I feel a little bad when I hear my escort scramble to catch up. Then again, it’s not my fault he’s been assigned to my protection detail. Apparently this is the price of his admission to the cult of the Kings.
We push through the heavy doors and into the bright autumn morning, and I squint against the sudden change in light, the cool air refreshing against my skin. Then an ice storm rolls in from out of nowhere when I see Richelle on the path walking toward me, the two of us set on a path to collide.
“Richelle,” I blurt, stopping short in surprise. “How have you been?”
She quickly averts her eyes, ducking out of the way to dodge me and scuttling away.
Ouch .
She might’ve been the world’s worst roommate, but the absolute least she could’ve done was say hi back.
Bryce scowls at her, shaking his head as he turns to me. “She’s just jealous,” he grumbles, knocking his shoulder into mine. “A social climber like her would’ve killed to be the Kings’ Doll.”
I roll my eyes, because while I appreciate that he’s trying to stick up for me, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
“She’s fucking the dean, you know,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.
“What?” I choke, slamming to a stop.
Bryce shrugs as he swivels to face me, a smirk slipping across his lips. “Yep. She must have a thing for pudgy old married dudes.”
My shock is written all over my face as I try to wrap my mind around this new piece of information. Richelle mentioned an older boyfriend, but I never would’ve guessed it was the dean of students.
The puzzle pieces slowly click together, one by one. That’s what the Kings have over her. That’s why she was so desperate to keep them happy, why she’s avoiding me now that I’m so firmly in their grip. It’s all starting to make sense, and maybe… maybe I misjudged her.
“You don’t need that homewrecker anyways,” Bryce sighs, slinging an arm around my shoulders. “You’ve got me.” He wags his brows and I force a smile, though it doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
Homewrecker.
That’s what my mom was, technically.
But can you really ‘wreck’ a happy home?
“You going to the big Halloween party tonight?” Bryce asks, his voice breaking through the rabbit hole my mind’s descending down.
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I murmur absently. “Kings’ orders.”
“Good, because I will, too. This is the one party of theirs that’s worth going to.” His smile widens, gaze dropping down my body. “What are you dressing up as?"
“I actually don’t even know yet,” I admit, pinning my lower lip between my teeth. “They said they have a costume for me.”
"Of course they do,” he chuckles. "Let me guess, slutty little schoolgirl?"
I snort a laugh. "Probably a sexy corpse."
“If anyone can pull that off, it’s you,” he winks.
I can't help but smile, even if it does feel a little bitter. Bryce has a way of making everything seem lighter, like the weight the Kings’ control isn’t quite so crushing.
“Well, I’d better get to my Accounting class,” Bryce sighs, tucking me into a side hug. “See ya tonight, Aves,” he murmurs, releasing me and blowing a kiss. “Can’t wait to see how your boyfriends dress you up.”