Chapter 34
AVA
The first thing I notice when I come too is how bright everything is. White overhead lights blind me the moment I blink my eyes open, the tang of disinfectant stinging my nose. My head pounds, my arms burn, and it takes me a few seconds to realize my wrists are still bound.
Slowly, I come into myself, realizing I’m slumped in the corner of an elevator. Two men are standing above me, clad in black suits and wearing bored expressions. One of them fiddles with his phone. The other watches the digital floor numbers tick up, his face completely blank.
I lower my gaze, finding my mother slumped against the opposite wall. Her head droops to the side, hair spilling over her shoulder, mouth open and drooling. She suddenly jerks upright, blinks a few times, and looks straight at me.
“Ava?” she whispers, her voice splintered and dry.
“Yeah,” I croak.
Her blue eyes are wide and red-rimmed. “Are you hurt?” she asks, but she can barely even get the words out without her lips trembling.
I start to say something snarky– I’m fine, Mom, they just wanted to throw a little party in a trunk– but all that comes out is a cough, so I just nod.
She sags a little with relief.
The suits don’t even look at us.
The elevator slows, and doors glide open with a hydraulic sigh, a hallway stretching out in front of us.
It’s too clean, the floor reflecting the overhead lights in harsh, unbroken lines.
The suits suddenly stoop to grab us by the arms, yanking us to our feet.
My legs are still asleep, but the guy holding me is strong, his grip like a vise.
My mom wobbles on her feet as they march us out of the elevator and into the hallway.
There’s a big set of double doors ahead, matte glass. My mouth is dry and my heart is threatening to burst out of my chest. The guard holding me extends a fist to knock once, waits, then pushes it open.
Floor-to-ceiling glass overlooks nothing but darkness as they lead us into the obscenely lavish office, but the city must be out there somewhere, twinkling.
The shelves behind the desk are lined with books, and the desk itself is a giant block of black marble, shimmering gold veins threading through the stone.
A man stands behind the desk, his hands clasped at the small of his back as he faces the window. He slowly turns, and there’s a measured, deliberate grace in how he moves, like a predator waiting to pounce.
He’s middle-aged, handsome, in that wolf-of wall-street way. His hair is silver– not the wiry old-man kind, but a sleek, metallic shine, cropped close at the sides and swept back on top. He’s wearing a suit that probably costs more than my mother’s car and fits his broad frame like a glove.
“Ava,” he says, deep voice echoing through the cavernous space of his office. “So nice to finally meet you in person.”
I’ve never seen him before, but deep down, I know exactly who he is. He looks exactly as advertised, every bit the supervillain I expected.
Damien Voss, the owner of the Dollhouse.
I open my mouth to say something, but he doesn’t give me the chance. He shifts his gaze to my mom, something flickering behind his eyes.
“Daphne.” His lips curl at the corners. “What a treat to see you again.”
My mom goes rigid. “For you, maybe,” she scoffs, averting her eyes.
He laughs, the sound of it hollow. “Come, now. No need for old grudges. Let’s have a seat, shall we?”
He gestures to two low upholstered chairs in front of his desk, and before we can even think about moving, the guards push us forward and force us into the seats.
They cut our wrists free, but it’s hardly a favor.
The light catches the metal of their side pieces as they stalk towards the doors, a lock clicking into place after they exit through them.
We’re trapped in here.
Voss rounds his desk and leans back against it, folding his arms and looking my mom up and down like a disappointed parent.
“You’ve been a tough little bird to pin down, Daphne,” he says, a hint of admiration in his tone.
“I’ll give Gideon one thing, he did a remarkable job of hiding you.
Made you disappear from all the records.
Even when I took over the Dollhouse, I could never get a whiff of where you wound up.
” He grins wider, all teeth. “But then you pop up on my radar again, married to Gideon Romero, and you even bring your darling daughter to join the festivities. He never should’ve let them print that picture in the paper, but Gideon’s ego has always been his weakness. ”
He shifts his attention to me, eyes hungry. “And you, Ava. You look so much like your mother, don’t you?” He leans forward, bringing his face close enough that I can smell the faint trace of expensive cologne. “Practically a carbon copy, just a younger, less used-up model.”
My heart does a sick lurch in my chest.
“Just let us go,” my mom spits, voice trembling. “I know you don’t want Gideon coming after you.”
He barks a laugh, whirling on her. “Gideon’s leash only goes so far, Daphne.” He turns back to me, eyes gleaming. “I’m going to enjoy this, Ava. You… not so much.”
He lunges so fast I don’t have time to flinch, grabbing me by the hair and hauling me up out of the chair. He twists my arm behind my back until I cry out, and my mom explodes out of her seat, slapping and clawing at him. His grip only tightens, wrenching my arm higher.
“You want to know what happened to your mother here?” he hisses.
I try to twist away and kick him, but he only laughs.
“I made her a legend, Ava,” he snarls, throwing me over the desk, my teeth clacking together as my cheek smacks the cold stone. “I can make you one, too.”
His hand tears at the back of my leggings, and I scream, kicking and writhing to try to break free.
Mom goes wild, slamming her fists into his side, trying to pull him off me. “No, you can’t!” she sobs, voice ragged.
He just slaps her across the face and shoves her away, pinning me harder against the desk. “And why not?” he sneers.
My mom staggers back, eyes blazing with hate and terror. “Because she’s your daughter, you sick bastard!”
Everything stops.
The pressure on my head slackens.
For a second, the world stops spinning.
Voss lets go, and I slump onto the desk, gasping for breath. Then I push up with shaky arms, staring at my mother, then at him.
He just stands there, motionless, his face unreadable for the first time since we walked in. The air feels electrified, the hum of the lights gone impossibly loud.
Voss takes a step back, and I look toward my sobbing mother.
Tears stream down her face as she holds my gaze. “It’s true, Ava,” she whispers. “He’s your father.”
Everything in me goes cold. I want to scream, but there’s no sound left in my throat.
Voss turns away, dragging a hand through his hair as he moves behind the desk, gripping the edge so hard his knuckles go white. He laughs once– a bitter, cruel sound.
“That,” he says, “is the best joke anyone has ever played on me.”
And then, almost in slow motion, he looks up, and I see it. My eyes, staring back at me from his face. The one part of me my mom always said I inherited from my father– brown, with a copper sunburst around the pupil.
This is it.
This is the moment my life turns inside out, the moment every story I’ve ever been told about who I am and why I matter goes up in flames.
There’s nowhere left to run. There’s nothing left to lose.
I’m the daughter of the Devil.
And he’s standing ten feet away, waiting for me to make the next move.
TO BE CONTINUED
in book three:
Queen of the Ashes