Chapter 33
AVA
The walls of my room are closing in on me, but at least there’s the faint comfort of knowing the guys aren’t on the other side. They haven’t returned since earlier. Maybe they’re just biding their time, waiting to see if I’ll finally crack and do something reckless, like try to run.
Right now, my self-destructive tendencies are mostly limited to a marathon session of cramming for finals.
As if school even matters anymore. It seemed like the only way to get out of my own head, though, so here I am.
Sprawled on my stomach, laptop open, highlighter stains all over my hands.
The window is cracked open, letting in a cold draft that smells like mud and cigarette smoke.
Every so often, I wonder if it’s Ford smoking below, or if it’s just the ghosts of all my failures.
I should be reading about the history of economic theory.
Instead, my mind is reeling over Raf’s words.
How I’m just like my mom– or maybe I’m worse because I think I can still win.
I keep thinking about the way Wes looked at me before he left, like he didn’t know who I was, and how Ford looked like he wanted to snap my neck so he wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.
I tell myself I’m over it. That I’m past the point of hoping for anything good to happen to me ever again. That all I have left is making sure I drag them through the flames as the fire consumes us all.
That’s when my phone vibrates.
At first, I don’t even check it, because what’s the fucking point? But then it buzzes again, and when I finally look, my heart does this weird stutter-step, like it’s trying to decide if it wants to explode or freeze.
The messages are from my mother.
Ava, call me as soon as you see this.
Please.
It’s so out of left field that my hands actually start to shake.
I haven’t heard from her in months– she hasn’t answered a single call since I left for Corvus, and I stopped trying to contact her after I found out she agreed to sell me to the Dollhouse.
I stare at the text, then roll over and put a pillow over my face, screaming into it until my lungs burn.
When I surface, I type a message back.
Busy. Finals.
Her response comes instantly.
I’m in town, just outside campus. I need to see you. Please. I’ll explain everything.
My fingers hesitate over the screen, then I find myself typing back.
Why now?
This time, she calls.
For a second, I debate letting it go to voicemail. But then all the old muscle memory of hating her and needing her kicks in at once, and I swipe to answer, holding the phone to my ear.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, voice flat.
“Ava,” she breathes, her voice cracking on the first syllable. She’s breathless, like she’s running from something. “I’m… I need to talk to you. Face to face. It’s important.”
“About how much you miss me, or about how you let your husband sell me off to the Dollhouse?” I reply bitterly.
There’s a pause on the other end of the line, followed by a little whimper. “I didn’t know, baby. I swear. I just found out a few hours ago. If I did… if I had any idea…”
I want to scream at her, but the words get stuck somewhere behind my teeth. “You’re lying,” I grit out.
“Ava, please. Just meet me. I’m at the back gate of the college. Let’s talk about this, face to face.”
“I don’t even know where the back gate is,” I snap.
“I’ll drop a pin,” she rushes out. “Just give me five minutes, and after, if you want me to leave, I will. Just…” she trails off, her voice breaking again, and I hang up before she can start crying in earnest, emotion choking my own throat.
A second later, my phone dings with her location. She’s less than half a mile away.
I stare at the pin, then at my reflection in the dark window glass.
I look like someone who’s just crawled out of a shallow grave– sweatpants, hair in a bun, eyes red from exhaustion.
My first thought is that I should text one of the guys, tell them where I’m going…
but then I remember why they’re not here.
If I tell them I’m going to see my mother, they’ll probably just decide it’s the perfect opportunity to kill us both and bury the bodies.
I shut the laptop, throw on my jacket, and pad through the empty apartment.
I don’t run into anyone in the stairwell, and when I push open the back door of Sutton Hall, it’s just as void of people.
Though I still feel the searing heat of watchful eyes on me as I trudge across campus, hands tucked deep in my pockets and my head down against the wind.
The walk is long and cold. My nervous system is so fried, every lamppost I pass has me bracing for impact, but nobody attacks.
The campus is quiet, almost peaceful, which only makes me more paranoid.
When I reach the gate, I a black Mercedes idling at the curb beside the empty guard shack. I’d recognize it anywhere.
I stand just inside the fence, arms crossed over my chest, steeling myself for whatever the hell is about to happen. Then the car window glides down, my mother leaning across the passenger seat, face half in shadow.
She looks like shit. Instead of her perfectly coiffed hair and painted face, her hair’s pulled tightly back, oversized sunglasses perched on her slender nose, even though the sky’s dark. She stares at me like she doesn’t know whether to smile or throw up.
Slipping between the wrought iron pickets, I heave a sigh as I walk over, opening the passenger door and sliding in without a word.
The inside of the car smells like her, the flowery scent of her expensive shampoo hitting me right in the chest. She turns to look at me, blue eyes going glassy behind the sunglasses.
“Hi, baby,” she coos.
“Don’t,” I snap, but I’m already tearing up, and it’s humiliating.
She reaches for me across the console, and I let her hug me.
Her arms are thinner than I remember, bony and desperate, like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she doesn’t hold on tight enough.
I try to resist, but as soon as her cheek touches my hair, I’m sobbing for real, shoulders shaking in her embrace.
She holds me until I’m all out of tears, then finally lets go, smoothing my hair back from my forehead.
“I’m sorry Ava,” she whispers. “I’m so, so sorry.”
I wipe my nose on my sleeve, glaring at her. “For which part?”
She winces, then shakes her head. “There’s a diner in Norfolk. Let’s get some coffee and we’ll talk.”
I nod weakly, and she puts the car in drive, pulling away from the curb.
The ride is short and tense, the hum of the heater and the click of her perfectly manicured fingernails on the steering wheel filling the silence.
I half-expect the Kings’ black SUV to come screaming up beside us at any moment, but we make it to the diner without incident.
The inside is sparse, just a college kid with a laptop and a guy in camo gear eating donuts at the bar. Mom leads us to a sticky booth in the back, and I collapse into the vinyl seat, my body feeling sore and hollow.
She orders two coffees– black for her, cream and sugar for me, like she actually remembers how I take it. For a long time, she doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me, like she’s memorizing my face for the last time.
I can’t take the silence any longer. “So what’s the story, Mom?” I ask, trying and failing to keep the edge of bitterness out of my tone. “You really didn’t know about the Dollhouse?”
She exhales, pressing her hands together like she’s praying. “No. Gideon told me you’d be safe at Corvus. He said he wanted to protect you from his enemies. That’s all he ever told me.”
“And you just believed him?” My voice is sharp, but I can’t help it. “Why didn’t you ever answer my calls? You abandoned me.”
She flinches. “I know how it sounds. But I swear to you, Ava, I thought I was keeping you safe. I never would have agreed to any of this if I thought you’d be…” she trails off, choking on a sob.
I want to call her a liar again. I want to scream at her for being so stupid, so desperate, so weak. But the pain in her eyes is real. She’s falling apart in front of me, and I don’t have the energy to be angry anymore.
“I didn’t want this life for you,” she sniffles, dabbing at her eyes with a paper napkin. “But now that you’re in it, you deserve to know the truth. About everything.”
“I’m listening,” I murmur, hands tightening around my coffee mug.
My mom draws another deep breath, as if steeling herself for what’s to come.
She straightens her shoulders, dabbing at her eyes once more before they lock with mine.
“When I was around your age, I ran into some trouble,” she begins, voice low.
“I racked up some debts, and dug myself into a hole I didn’t know how to get out of.
Then a friend told me about the Dollhouse. ”
She exhales slowly, voice calmer now. “I signed a contract. Three years of service, and my debts would be paid. I’d walk out of there at the end of it free and clear, and with a little extra to start over.”
“A contract for what?” I ask, even though deep down, I already know the answer.
“The Dollhouse has different… tiers of assets. I was a Raven.”
I stiffen, that word jogging my memory. Bailey mentioned it.
“Raven?” I repeat, arching a brow.
She nods. “Ravens are dual-purpose. Escorts that deal in espionage, taking specific client assignments to gather information and report back. I didn’t particularly like that part of it, but I was desperate.”
Mom sighs, wiping at the corner of her eye again.
“Anyways. I was two months from the expiration of my contract when I got pregnant. It shouldn’t have happened, I was on birth control, but when they say it’s only ninety-nine percent effective, it’s true.
The Dollhouse wanted to end the pregnancy, but I wanted it.
Wanted you, Ava. I wanted you so badly.” She chokes on a sob, pausing to get it under control. “My handler offered to help.”
“Caleb,” I whisper.
She startles, eyes widening. “You know him?”
I jerk a nod. “He was my handler, too.”
Her expression shutters, face screwing up in anguish.
“He’s a good man. He helped me strike a deal with the Invictus.
They pulled me out of the Dollhouse, sent me to Chicago under the guise of your grandmother being sick so I could carry you to term.
But after I had you, I was sent back. Leaving you behind was the hardest thing I ever had to do, but I had to keep you safe.
You stayed with your grandma, hidden away, and I came back to visit whenever I could. ”
“I remember,” I murmur.
“Then I met Gideon, and we fell in love.” Her lips curve in the ghost of a smile, almost wistful. “He offered me a way out, and I took it. Got you back, kept you hidden so nobody would know you existed.”
I nod slowly, my mind struggling to wrap itself around the information. “So is that why he sold me to the Dollhouse?” I ask quietly. “To pay off some old debt for getting you out?”
“No,” she gasps, shaking her head adamantly.
“I was free and clear. He ran into some other trouble, and I guess… he must’ve…
” she shakes her head again. “He never told me what he did, Ava. I never would’ve let him send you to that place.
I thought you were safe, tucked away at college, living your life. ”
“Then why didn’t you call?” I grit out, the pieces still not quite adding up.
“At first, I couldn’t,” she says. “We were in hiding while Gideon figured out his business situation, and we couldn’t make any contact that might give up our location, or yours for that matter.
And after we got back… Gideon told me he talked to Raf, that you were doing well at college, that you were happy. I didn’t want to ruin it.”
I grind my molars, wanting so badly to believe her.
“So what now?” I ask, voice barely a whisper.
She reaches across the table, grabbing my hands in hers. “I came to get you out,” she says, fierce and shaky at the same time. “We can leave right now. I have money, enough to start over somewhere. We can disappear.”
It’s everything I ever wanted to hear and way too damn tempting.
I look down at our hands, then back at her. “What about Gideon?”
She shakes her head, lips pressed thin. “I don’t want anything to do with him, not anymore. Not after what he did to you.”
I want to believe her so badly it hurts.
We finish our coffee in silence, both of us lost in our own heads. When we stand to leave, she pulls me into another hug, holding me so tight I think I might actually crack in two.
By the time we walk out the door, I’ve made my mind up. That despite everything, I want to leave with her. I want to believe everything could finally be okay, and that this nightmare could actually be over.
The cold slaps my cheeks as we cross the parking lot. I circle around to the passenger side of her Mercedes and slide in, feeling lighter than I have in months.
I should have known it was too good to last.
The second the door closes, there’s a shadow in the driver’s side mirror– a tall, broad man in a black suit. Then another one materializes on my side, opening my door and yanking me out by the arm. Before I can scream, something cold and metallic presses to my neck.
Mom shrieks, trying to claw at the man pinning her to the hood of her own car, but he’s too strong. The more she writhes, the harder he smashes her face against the windshield, her sunglasses snapping in half.
I try to kick the guy holding me, but he just laughs, twisting my arm until I see stars.
“Easy, princess,” he snarls. “You don’t want to hurt yourself. Damage the merchandise.”
“Who are you?” I spit, but I already know.
“Dollhouse.”
The word sends a chill up my spine, my body going rigid.
In the moment of paralyzing fear, another man binds my wrists, black zip ties biting into my skin as they drag me to the back of the car. The trunk is already popped, waiting to swallow me up as they grab my ankles, lifting me.
No.
Not again.
I thrash in their grip, but it’s fucking hopeless. They throw me inside, my head smacking against the sharp edge of the trunk before everything goes black.