49. Ava
CHAPTER 49
AVA
I thought I could face him, but I was wrong. When I walk into Anatomy class and see Ford smirking from the back row, I just turn around and walk right back out, his voice calling after me like a hook through my spine. I don’t look back, and he doesn’t chase after me. He never does.
The sting from seeing that text conversation still hasn’t faded, nor has the harsh slap of reality he delivered when I confronted him about it. It all keeps playing through my mind on an endless loop– the echo of his words, the coldness of his laugh. The way he looked at me like I was nothing.
I dash to the end of the hall and duck into the stairwell, the door groaning shut behind me. For a moment, it’s quiet. Just the sound of my own breathing. The faint hum of the building. My shoes on concrete. My thoughts chewing holes in my brain.
Fuck him. Fuck all of them.
The Kings just take and take and take, and I have nothing left to give anymore.
I’m done playing their games. Done deluding myself into thinking they care or that I can actually change them. They’ll never change. Nothing I’ve done has ever mattered, and the worst part is that it’s nobody’s fault but my own. They showed me who they were from the start. I was the one who tried to see something else; tried to grasp for something that wasn’t ever there. I foolishly thought we were building something from all this carnage, but the castle’s come crumbling down around me like a house of cards.
I push through the emergency exit and flee the building, my backpack bouncing on my shoulders as I cut across the grass to Stoker Hall. Pulling open the side door of the building, I duck inside, desperate to take refuge somewhere– anywhere – they Kings are not.
I enter the first-floor corridor of the aged building, the air cooler here, thicker. Like a tomb. Fitting, since I feel like I’m dead inside.
Drawing a deep breath, I start down the hallway, having no destination in mind but needing to keep moving. If I stand still, it feels like everything is crashing down over me. If I just move, I can almost pretend I’m outrunning it all.
“I’m just saying, all of this should’ve been over after Halloween.”
The words drift out of an open classroom up ahead and I pause, heart thudding. I know that voice– loud, sharp, always performing for an audience. Chelsea.
Morbid curiosity has me inching closer, keeping my footsteps light as I creep toward the open doorway.
“You can’t really want Raf back after the way he’s treated you,” another girl scoffs.
I peer around the corner into the room, finding Chelsea sitting on a table with one long leg crossed over the other, flanked by her two best friends on either side. Stella’s relaxed back on her palms, picking at a loose thread on the hem of her brightly-colored Lilly Pulitzer dress, while Blair’s leaning toward Chelsea with keen interest, looking like she’s two seconds from biting down on whatever secret’s about to drop.
“Maybe if you put your foot down, you could get him to see reason,” Stella suggests absently.
Chelsea chuckles, low and wicked. “More like I put my knees down and got him to bend me over the library stacks this morning.”
Blair gasps, perfectly manicured hands flying to her mouth. “Shut up! You didn’t!”
I duck away from the doorway before they can see me, pressing my back tight against the wall and a hand over my racing heart. Their laughter spills out of the classroom, and I feel it like a slap. My stomach twists, every breath shaky and shallow. I feel sick.
Pushing off from the wall, I dart away down the corridor, heart pounding, eyes trained on the ground. I don’t make it far before I collide with something hard, stumbling back in a daze as a strong hand grabs my elbow to steady me.
“Whoa, you okay, Ava?” a smooth voice asks.
Déjà vu hits me like a freight train, the day I met Wes at the Registrar’s office flashing through my mind.
But this isn’t Wes. I know his voice; know the touch of his hands. Instead, it’s Travis’ face smiling down at me as I find my balance, embarrassment coating my cheeks.
I cringe as another bout of laughter floats from the classroom. He glances past me, then back, lips pulling into a smirk like he’s connecting the dots.
“Eavesdropping?” he teases, voice low. “Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.”
He winks, and I’m so mortified that the only thing I can think of to do is duck past him and scurry away down the hall, as if I can outrun the humiliation.
“Aw, c’mon,” Travis chuckles, catching up to me in a few long strides. “You don’t want to get away from me that badly, do you?”
Actually, that’s exactly what I want right now– but if I tell him that, tell him why I’m wandering around this building when I should be in class at the next one over, then I’m afraid everything will just spill out. My morning confessional with Bryce was one thing, but nobody else needs to know how the full extent of how bleak my life has become.
Not to mention the fact that I’m nowhere near emotionally equipped to have that conversation again.
“Seriously, though,” Travis urges, nudging me with an elbow as he falls into step beside me. “How have you been?”
Since it doesn’t seem like he’s giving up, I grind to a halt and pivot to face him. “Good,” I breathe, not surprised how easily the lie rolls off my tongue. I’ve gotten way too good at lying lately.
“Good,” he repeats, nodding as his gaze rakes over my form, slow and deliberate, before finally meeting mine again. “And have the Kings been taking care of your needs?” he murmurs, arching a brow.
“What?” I choke, flinching back.
I may be furious with the Kings at the moment, but the necklace I’m wearing still means something. Travis shouldn’t even be talking to me right now, let alone asking about my ‘needs’.
I shake my head before he can answer, pivoting to start down the hall again. Conversation over.
His hand clamps down on my waist like a manacle, the edge of it riding just a little too low on my hips. “Where are you running off to?” Travis laughs, tugging me back in playfully.
I’m not playing, though. I’m done with games.
He leans in, pulling me tighter against him and giving me a long, hard look that’s more curious than threatening. He must think he’s flirting, but it’s just coming off as creepy.
“Let me go, Travis,” I grit out, swatting at his hands as I try to wriggle away.
In the face of my refusal, the curious look on his face twists into something colder, his grip on my body suddenly edged with demand. One hand digs into my ribs, another snaking its way to my collar, pulling at the front of my shirt. I try to jerk away, but the more I struggle, the more his weight presses down on me like a metal trap. I open my mouth to scream, but his hand clamps down over it, muffling the sound.
“Let’s see how the Kings like their Doll after I’m done with her,” he snickers, shoving me toward the wall.
My pulse takes off at a gallop, blood thumping in my ears as terror takes hold. The seams of my sweater strain as he claws at the fabric, trapping me between the wall and his much larger body. He’s so much stronger than me, and all I can do is squirm and bite at his fingers like a trapped animal. Panic spreads through me like ink in water, growing darker and harder to breathe through, until an achingly familiar voice cuts against the static in my brain.
“Get the fuck off her.”
It’s low and menacing, not a request but a command. It’s Wes, appearing from out of nowhere like an evening angel, fisting the fabric of Travis’ shirt and ripping his body away from mine. He slams him up against the wall next to me, fist swinging out and cracking against Travis’ jaw. Blood sprays, splashing my neck and shoulders as his head whips to the side.
“I already told you what would happen if you came near Kings’ property again,” Wes snarls, raining punches down on Travis as he frantically tries to cover his face, bobbing and weaving to dodge the furious blows. “You’re a fucking dead man!”
Suddenly terrified that I’m about to witness an actual murder, I grab at Wes’ shirt, feebly yanking and screaming for him to stop. By some miracle, he actually listens– with a final parting punch in the face, he backs off Travis just enough for him to slip free and stumble away, coughing and spitting a glob of blood onto the floor.
“This isn’t over, asshole!” Wes calls as he watches my attacker scramble to retreat, limping down the hallway and turning the corner.
The moment he’s out of sight, Wes turns his furious gaze on me, the angry lines in his face melting away into something softer when our eyes meet.
“You okay?” he asks, brows drawing in.
The terror still hasn’t faded, but there’s something sharper bubbling beneath it now, and I can’t tell if it’s betrayal or relief. He rescued me, but not because he was actually concerned for my safety. It was a matter of pride; of protecting the Kings’ property .
“I’m fine,” I grit out, shaky hands reaching up to smooth my rumpled sweater.
“You sure?’ Wes presses, reaching for me with something that looks a whole lot like genuine concern.
I know better, though. In rapid succession, all three Kings have shown what they truly think of me, and I can’t hide behind my own delusion anymore and deny it. They see me as a possession, not a person. I’m nothing to them but a body to use and discard.
“I said I’m fine!” I snap, knocking my shoulder into his as I push past him to flee.
He doesn’t even let me make it a single step before his arm bands around my waist, reeling me back in.
“The fuck, Ava?” he growls, manhandling me until my back’s against the wall again, his body caging me in. “I’m trying to help, would it kill you to show a little gratitude?”
I press my palms to his hard chest, shoving hard. “What do you want me to do, get on my knees and suck your dick for saving me?” I scoff bitterly.
He snorts a laugh of amusement, my push not moving him an inch. “I mean, it’s not the worst idea.”
I scowl up at him, bile rising in my throat. “You’re just like him,” I huff.
Something in Wes’ demeanor abruptly shifts, his jaw tensing, eyes suddenly sharper. “Who?” he asks, a low hint of warning in this tone.
I lift my chin, glaring back at him defiantly. “Travis. The only difference is that you can actually force me to cooperate.”
Anger burns bright behind his gray eyes, settling in the deep set of his jaw.
“But you know what neither of you can make me do?” I bite out, wanting to hurt him, make him feel something other than the obnoxious sense of entitlement he always carries around. “You can’t make me actually want it.”
I hit my mark. I see it in the twitch of his jaw, the way his eyes harden. Feel it in the promise of destruction burning between us. It should probably frighten me more than it does, but I just… I don’t care anymore.
Wes just stares back at me for a long moment, the silence hanging between us deafening. Then he chuckles low in his throat, the ragged, dangerous sound of it grating on my nerves like sandpaper.
“You’re right, Ava,” he murmurs, hands dropping to his belt. “Get on your knees.”
My fingernails bite into my palms, a scream working its way up my throat. “I’ll hate you for this,” I rasp.
Wes tilts his head, assessing me coldly. “Then hate me with my cock in your mouth.”
His words are lethal, cutting, but I refuse to flinch, even as his fingers move to pop the button of his jeans and work the zipper down.
My knees hit the floor and all I can do is blink in stunned silence, barely even breathing as he reaches into his boxers to free his huge cock from the confines of his jeans. It’s only semi-hard, but takes it in hand and strokes it to life as he moves in closer, rubbing the tip against my lips before shoving it past them.
The whole world collapses to the harsh feel of him thickening against my tongue, the coldness of the marble floor against my bare knees, the sour tangle of anger and tears in my throat. It’s a replay of the first time he did this, and I’m choking on hatred. Choking on him. His fingers lace through my hair, holding me in place as he thrusts his hips and starts fucking my mouth. It’s control and cruelty wrapped in soft moans that almost sound like affection.
“ Fuck , Ava.”
My name, a curse and a prayer, guttural and raw.
“That feels so fucking good .”
Tears leak from the corners of my eyes as I choke and gag around his shaft, the smooth head of his cock punching the back of my throat with every forward thrust.
I hate him.
Hate the Kings.
Hate myself.
I feel that familiar heat curl low in my belly as I grow slick with desire, repulsed by the way even my own body is betraying me in this moment. Maybe they’re right– maybe this is all I am. A whore , just like my mom.
Wes shudders and spills down my throat, and it’s a thousand kinds of defeat mixed with one sick note of triumph. The salty taste of him slides over my tongue as he releases my hair, pulling out and taking a jerky step backwards, panting and stunned.
The air’s too thick, like everything’s compressed to the edges of this hallway, my heart pounding against my ribs like a death march. I’ve got no energy left to fight. Nothing left to give. Silence creeps in and finds me on my knees, cold and deliberate, an accusation or a promise. Wes tucks his dick away, echoes and shame closing in. My expression hardens, fixing into place as he stands over me, the storm passing with all its wreckage. I’m numb and aching. I’m everything and nothing.
I rise to meet the next wave, wondering if there will be anything left of me once it breaks.