Chapter 26
AVA
Tonight came faster than I expected. Maybe because the last week and a half blurred past in a mess of cramming, sleep deprivation, and wall-to-wall orgasms.
Not even an exaggeration.
Now that my cherry’s been popped, the Kings treat sex like some kind of group-bonding exercise, with me as the three-way tug rope. Though I can’t really complain, considering they always make sure I’m left satisfied.
I don’t even pretend to resist anymore. Letting them use my body is the only thing that shuts off my brain.
Between classes, I study. Between studying, I sleep– sometimes alone, sometimes with a body or two beside me.
But the rest of the time? I let them make me forget how bleak my life has become by their hands, the three men who probably wouldn’t blink if I died tomorrow.
I could get philosophical about it, but the truth is, I just get sick of being in my own head and need the escape.
Especially now, with the Dollhouse’s silence looming like a hangman’s shadow over. We sent them the video, sent them the money, but nobody’s heard a peep from Voss. Not a threat, not a call, not even one of those creepy old-school envelopes with cutout letters. Just… nothing.
Which brings me to tonight.
If the Dollhouse is the thing I can’t run from, the Invictus is the thing I can’t escape into.
Because tonight is my official presentation, the first stage of my initiation into the secret society that’s been indirectly running my life since I set foot on this campus.
It’s not the full shebang, just the ceremonial ‘taking of the vows’.
The boys couldn’t– or wouldn’t– tell me much more, other than I have to show up, wear white, and keep my mouth shut. They don’t seem worried. They never do.
I’m not particularly worried, either. I’m in that weird, resigned place where so much has already happened to me, it can’t get much worse.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
Until I come back from dinner with Bryce in the Bistro and find one of Chelsea’s blonde sidekicks lurking in the living room, perched on the arm of the couch with a mug of tea in her hands and an expression so sweet I instantly want to punch her.
Stella Powers is Wes’s twin sister, which I guess explains the perfectly sculpted face and the air of effortless superiority.
We’ve spoken exactly once, in the girls’ bathroom between classes, when she told me that she liked my boots and then warned me that the campus was full of predators.
I thought it was a threat at the time. Now, I realize it was just her way of being nice.
Wes is sitting beside her, legs splayed, while Ford’s sprawled in the armchair across from them, fiddling with his laptop. Raf isn’t in sight, but I hear the rhythmic thump of his drums from down the hall, so at least one of the Kings is burning off nervous energy.
As soon as I step through the door, all conversation halts. Stella sets her mug down on the coffee table and stands, beaming at me. “Ava!” she chirps. “Perfect timing.”
Wes pushes to his feet, running a hand through his hair, eyes flicking between me and his sister like he’s bracing for a chemical explosion.
“Hey,” he says, voice weirdly tight. “I, uh… invited Stella over. Thought you could use some help getting ready for tonight. Like, girl talk or whatever.” He gestures helplessly, then slumps back onto the couch, as if the effort of organizing anything more complicated than a boathouse party physically drains him.
My eyes narrow on Stella. She doesn’t look like someone sent to torture me, but then again, neither did her brother the first time I met him. “Hi,” I greet, voice flat.
She glides over to me with complete confidence, glossy blonde hair shining in the lights. “I hear you’re being presented tonight,” she says conspiratorially. “Which way to your room?” She hooks her arm through mine, steering me toward the hall before I can even protest.
I glance back at Wes, but he just shrugs. Ford doesn’t even look up from his computer, but I see a wicked smile creeping onto his lips, like my discomfort amuses him.
“Uh, down here,” I mutter as I let myself be dragged off, out of the living room and down the hallway. As soon as we’re clear, Stella’s whole demeanor shifts. The smile stays, but now it’s tinted with something sharper, like a warning edge to an otherwise soft weapon.
“You look nervous,” she remarks, sizing me up.
I open my mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. She must notice, because she tightens her grip and steers me into my bedroom like she owns the place.
Once we’re inside, Stella shuts the door, then crosses straight to my bed and sits on the edge, folding her legs under her. “You can relax, you know,” she says, patting the spot next to her. “I promise this is a friendly visit.”
I hover by the door, watching her with deep suspicion. “No offense, but your definition of friendly doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence. You hang out with Chelsea and Blair.”
She sighs, tossing her hair. “I hang out with them the way you hang out with the Kings. Out of necessity, not preference.”
That makes me smile, but only a little. “Touché.”
Stella waits a beat, then leans forward, lowering her voice. “I won’t sugarcoat it. Tonight’s not going to be fun. But it doesn’t have to be a nightmare, either. If you play it right, you can get through with your dignity intact.”
I snort. “I lost that weeks ago.”
She shrugs. “Then you’re ahead of schedule.
” She gives me a once-over, then stands and moves toward my closet, opening it and flicking through the hangers like she’s working retail.
“You have to wear white,” she says. “It’s dumb, considering they’re just going to make you put on a robe, but that’s part of the pageantry. ”
I watch her rifle through my clothes, equal parts offended and impressed. “Is this, like, your hobby? Consulting for cult ceremonies?”
“Only for the select few.” She finds a simple, strappy white silk dress near the back, holds it up, and tilts her head in approval. “This one.”
I take it, surprised. “That’s… not bad, actually.”
“Wear it with the nude slip underneath. It’ll keep it from looking cheap.” She winks. “Anything else is up to you, but I’d go heavy on hair and makeup. The prettier you are, the more they’ll like you.”
“I suck at makeup,” I admit, wincing.
Stella grins. “Good thing you have me, then.” She glides over to my tiny vanity, running her fingers over my sad, mismatched makeup collection. “Sit,” she commands, pointing at the stool.
I obey, because at this point, why not?
She opens the palette, dabs a brush in some powder, and gets to work. For a few minutes, neither of us speak. She’s surprisingly gentle, her touch light as she paints my eyelids and lines my lips. It’s almost soothing, in a strange way. But I know a thing or two about wolves in sheep’s clothing.
After a minute, she breaks the silence. “I know this is weird,” she says softly, “but I actually wanted to meet you properly, get to know you. Without Chels and Blair around.”
I furrow my brow, careful not to disturb her work. “Why?”
She shrugs, curling my lashes. “Because I think you’re interesting. You haven’t tried to suck up to anyone, and you don’t seem terrified by the Kings.” She smirks, like she finds that both dangerous and amusing. “Most girls either want to be them or fuck them. You don’t really want either, do you?”
I shrug. “Honestly, I just want to survive the school year.”
Stella’s gaze meets mine in the mirror. “You will.” She says it like a promise, then softens.
“Look, I know you think I’m just another bitchy rich girl.
But unlike Chelsea, I’m not cruel for the sake of it.
” She hesitates, then sets the makeup brush down.
“I didn’t even go to that stupid Halloween party.
I told Chels it was a bad idea, but she does what she wants, and Blair just follows blindly. ”
I study her, trying to see the cracks in her veneer. “Why do you hang out with them?”
She shrugs, picking up the mascara wand. “We’ve been friends since we were four. At a certain point, it’s just easier to keep the status quo.” She leans in, coating my lashes. “But I don’t like hurting people. If I can do something to help, I do it. Just… quietly.”
She steps back, surveys her work, then nods. “Perfect.” She gestures to the mirror.
I pivot, staring at my reflection. I’m not sure what I was expecting– sabotage, maybe– but Stella’s work is flawless. My eyes look huge, lips full and soft, skin dewy. It’s… kind of a shock, honestly.
“Thank you,” I breathe, blinking at my reflection in disbelief.
Stella smiles at me in the mirror. “You’re welcome.” She gestures toward the bathroom. “Go change. I’ll do your hair when you come back.”
I grab the dress off the bed and a nude slip from the drawer, heading for the bathroom and shutting the door behind me. As I shimmy out of my leggings and t-shirt, I hear Stella’s voice through the door.
“Seriously, though… how are they treating you? The Kings, I mean.”
I pull on the slip, then the dress, smoothing it over my hips. “Depends on the day,” I call back. “Wes is the nicest. Ford is a pervert, but at least he’s honest about it. And Raf is… complicated.”
Stella laughs. “Yeah, that tracks.” She lowers her voice. “If Wes ever gets to be too much, just tell me. I’ll make his life hell.”
I snort. “He’s fine, really. He actually brings me coffee every morning. I think he’s trying to be, like… a good boyfriend, or whatever.”
There’s a pause, then, “He likes you.”
I open the door to find Stella standing right outside it, arms folded, looking at me with something close to affection. “He does,” she says, nodding. “It’s a problem, actually.”
“Why?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
She sighs, then motions for me to sit on the vanity stool again. I do, and she stands behind me, fingers moving deftly through my hair as she starts a French braid. “You know our family history?”
“Just what’s on Wikipedia,” I admit.
She laughs, low and bitter. “Then you know our dad was a finance broker until he lost everything. Total humiliation, public scandal, lawsuits, the works. Our mom left two weeks later, never even looked back.”
I twist, craning my neck to see her. “I… didn’t know all that.”
She shrugs, tying off the braid and tucking a stray strand behind my ear. “Wes took it hard. Never really recovered, honestly.” She gives me a searching look. “So go easy on him, okay? He doesn’t have a lot left to lose.”
The words hit me in a soft spot I didn’t know I still had. “I’ll try,” I whisper, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
Stella steps back, inspecting her work. “You look amazing,” she declares. “Are you ready?”
I stand, smoothing the skirt of the dress, then look at myself one last time in the mirror. It’s not just the makeup and the hair. I look older, sharper. Maybe even a little dangerous. Almost like I actually belong here amongst the children of elite society.
“Yeah,” I say. “I think I am.”
Stella moves up beside me, her reflection just over my shoulder. She gives me a sly smile, then leans in, lowering her voice to a whisper. “Kill it, Ava. You hold all the cards. Remember that.”
For a second, it’s easy to imagine us being friends.
Then she straightens, dusts off her hands, and gestures for the door. “Let’s go show those boys what they’re missing.”
I follow her down the hall, heart thumping, nerves humming under my skin. Maybe tonight won’t be a nightmare after all.
Or maybe it will.
Either way, I’m ready.