Chapter 31
AVA
“I think they’re onto me,” I mumble.
Bryce freezes with his lighter halfway to his mouth, the tip of the joint just catching a whiff of lighter fluid before he lets the zippo snap shut. His eyes widen, the joint falling from his lips as they part. “Say what now?”
I curl in tighter on the spare bed in his dorm room, my knees tucked up under my chin, fingers clenched tight over my sweatshirt sleeves. “Last night,” I start, then frown because it’s not even technically last night, more like this morning. “After the fight, Ford said something.”
Bryce leans in, brows lifting in interest. “And?”
I avert my eyes, staring out the window at the glare of the sun off the snow. “He said if I’m playing a game, I better make sure it’s one I can win.”
“Holy shit,” he breathes. “He knows.”
A spike of panic stabs through my chest, sharp enough that I actually gasp. “But… do you think he knows knows? Or is he just guessing?”
Bryce shrugs, slumping back in his desk chair with a creak. “Ford’s a freak, but he’s not psychic. I wouldn’t sweat it unless he gets weird. Or weirder, I guess.” He chews his lower lip, a motion so identical to my own nervous habit that for a moment I wonder if it’s contagious.
I groan, burying my face in my knees. “Maybe I should just cut my losses. Get out while I’m still…” Alive, I almost say, but that feels too dramatic, so I pivot. “Ahead.”
“Are you shitting me?” Bryce’s tone is half-amused, half-furious in a way only he can pull off. “You’re like… three moves from checkmate! If you bail now, what was the point of all the suffering? Of letting Ford tattoo a literal brand on your ass?”
I lift my head just enough to shoot him a glare. “That was not a consensual tattoo.”
Bryce waves it off. “You still rock it, though. And all your moves so far have been on point. You’ve got them eating out of your palm.” He eyes the joint in his lap wistfully, then picks it up and stuffs it in his hoodie with a sigh. “Seriously, you’re the most dangerous woman on campus right now.”
He says it like it’s a pep talk, but my chest just tightens more. “It’s not like I wanted to turn into a monster,” I mutter.
Bryce’s expression softens. He stands, crossing the room to me, then sits down on the bed, close but not crowding.
“Listen to me, Aves. You’re not a monster.
You’re playing the game because it’s the only way to survive it.
” He pokes my arm with a finger. “And if you don’t stick the landing, they’ll chew you up and spit out your bones. You have to see it through.”
I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Bryce’s logic is always so black and white. Life or death, winner or loser. In that way, he’s more like the Kings than he’d ever admit.
He seems to sense my downward spiral and abruptly stands up.
“You know what we need?” He rifles through a pile of clean, expensive streetwear on his desk chair, then produces a comically oversized parka.
“Vitamin D. And also caffeine. I swiped a bunch of cans of cold brew from the Bistro. Let’s walk. ”
My first instinct is to refuse, because leaving the building means a potential collision with the enemy, but then I remember I haven’t eaten since last night and my head is starting to throb. “Fine,” I grumble.
I force myself to climb off the bed, shrugging on the ridiculous parka and following Bryce out of Sutton Hall.
Campus in November is ugly. The trees are all bare, the grass is half-mud, half-ice, and the piles of snow at the edges of the sidewalk are more gray than white. There’s a strange comfort to it though, like nobody’s trying to pretend it’s prettier than it is.
Bryce and I walk with our hands jammed into our pockets, heads down against the wind. He hands me a can of cold brew with a grin. “Cheers to surviving another week,” he says, bumping the rim of his can against mine before we both drink.
We walk in silence for a while, past the math building, the registrar’s office, and the path to the boathouse. Bryce does his best to steer us away from the main quad, and I know it’s because he’s trying to avoid the Kings’ usual haunts.
After a while, he says, “So. You ever thought about what happens when you win?”
I shake my head, unable to picture it. “I guess I always thought I’d be dead by then.”
He huffs a laugh. “That’s my morbid girl.”
I smile, but it doesn’t quite meet my eyes. “You think I could just be… normal, after? Just go to class and have lunch with you and never think about who’s watching?”
Bryce stops, then sits down on the closest bench, patting the spot next to him. “I think you’d get bored,” he says. “But yeah. You’d be the only person here who could say she survived all of this and came out the other side. You could do anything you want, be the motherfuckin’ Queen.”
I sit next to him, letting the cold seep through my jeans, and hug the can of coffee to my chest. “I don’t even know what I want,” I admit.
He bumps my shoulder with his. “Lie. I think you want to be left alone for five minutes. Or, you know, become the boss bitch of some major corporation. It’s a toss-up.”
I roll my eyes, but I’m grateful for his voice, for the way he makes me feel like I still have an identity outside of the Kings’ chessboard.
He changes the subject, and we talk about finals.
He’s worried he’ll bomb his Russian lit class, and I confess that I’m not actually failing statistics but I like pretending I am to keep Wes from asking me dumb questions.
The conversation is so light and stupid that for a second I forget what it felt like to have Ford’s breath on my neck, or Raf’s hand around my throat, or the way Wes looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention.
Bryce checks his phone, then stands up and stretches. “Bistro?” he suggests. “They just put out a new batch of pastries and I want to test my willpower.”
I agree, and we head off across campus. The student union is the only building besides the dorms that’s active on a Sunday, so of course, that’s where I spot them.
Right as we’re approaching, the Kings push through the doors with their gym bags slung over their shoulders, talking amongst themselves and chuckling about something.
Bryce sees them at the same time I do, immediately slowing his pace. “You wanna bail?” he asks under his breath.
I stutter a step. My instinct is to run, but it’s too late. We’re already too close.
The second Ford sees me, his mouth twists– half smirk, half snarl. “Well, well,” he calls out, voice echoing across the quad. “If it isn’t our pretty little Doll.”
Raf is silent, as always, but his gaze zeroes in on me instantly. Wes’s eyes flick up and down my body, like he’s assessing for some invisible damage.
Ford’s attention flicks to Bryce. “Sup, loser?” he quips, but it’s almost friendly.
Bryce doesn’t miss a beat. “Sup, psycho?”
I tense, waiting for Ford to explode, but he just grins, like he actually respects the comeback.
Then Ford looks at me, his mouth quirking at the corners. “Whatcha doin’, Ava baby? Playing house with your other boyfriend?”
I force a laugh, shaking my head. “Just going for a walk.”
“Then walk with us,” he replies, throwing an arm around my shoulders and guiding me away from Bryce.
I hesitate, glancing over my shoulder toward Bryce, but he just nods and gives me a look that says I’ve got this. I toss him an apologetic wave, then turn away, letting Ford pull me along.
“You guys seem like you’re in a better place this morning,” I comment, trying to keep my tone light.
“Just needed a good workout to burn off some aggression,” Wes replies.
“Team bonding,” Ford chimes in, grinning. “We were just about to come find you, I had an idea for another bonding exercise.” He wags his brows, the implication clear.
A blush rises to my cheeks instantly and I look away, though I can’t deny the gentle pulse of anticipation that ignites between my thighs.
How can I hate them, yet want them so much?
It’s seriously fucked up.
We walk as a unit toward Sutton Hall, Ford at my side, Raf and Wes flanking us like bodyguards. Nobody says much, but there’s a current in the silence, like a live wire humming just beneath the surface.
The trepidation I woke up with dissipates with every step, replaced by something else. Relief, maybe. Excitement, definitely. And the smug satisfaction that I actually got away with something.
Except they bounced back a lot quicker than I expected. I’ll need to double down on my next efforts.
I’ll need to make it really hurt.