You’re not pretty, you’re just big.
I blink fast, clenching my jaw.
No. No, I’m not doing that. Not anymore.
I’m not that scared girl who used to cry into her pillow, wondering why her stepfather hated her body so much he had to destroy it.
I’m a woman now.
And I’ve been kissed like I mattered.
Held like I was worth something.
Made love to like I was fucking everything.
He takes a drag and blows smoke in my direction.
“I don’t know what kind of delusions you’ve been living in, Ava, but I’m the only one who ever gave a damn about you. Your real daddy left. Your mom died. You think any of those people in your pretty little mountain town actually care?”
I clench my fists. My arms burn from how tightly I’m bound.
“You think that biker of yours is coming?” he scoffs, stepping closer. “No man wants a girl like you. Round and sloppy. Loud-mouthed. Weak. Just like your mother.”
“She was better than you’ll ever be,” I hiss.
That earns me a slap. Fast and hard, cracking my head to the side. I taste blood immediately.
“Watch your mouth.”
I spit onto the floor, red mixing with dust. He doesn’t like that. I can see it in the twist of his face. He reaches forward and grabs my chin, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise.
“You always had a smart mouth,” he says, lowering his voice. “Always needed discipline.”
He flicks ash near my face, then stands upright again.
“You know what I’m going to do?” he says. “I’m going to start where I left off. Right here.”
He lifts the cigarette and points it toward my arm. My stomach lurches.
He wants to burn me like he’s done it before.
My arms are filled with scars.
His work.
He steps forward, heat nearing my skin. I brace.
“You don’t want to do that,” I whisper, voice shaking but firm.
He laughs. “Why’s that?”
“Because I belong to a biker now,” I say, voice hardening. “He’s part of a club. Damned Saints MC. They’ll tear you apart. You think you’re scary? You’re nothing compared to them.”
His hand wavers.
He doesn’t press the cigarette to my skin. He hesitates.
Good.
