Her skinny arms are wrapped tight around her ribs, dark hair falling loose around her shoulders. Her posture’s so rigid she might snap in half if someone so much as exhales in her direction. She looks even smaller than usual standing there alone, more delicate and breakable than ever before. Her lips are pressed flat, eyes fixed on the ground, but the look she flicks up at us every few seconds is pure ice.
Good.
Defiance is a hell of a lot easier to deal with than tears.
I cross my arms tighter across my chest and stay perfectly still– because if I move, the last of my patience may evaporate and lead me to do something I regret.
Or maybe something I won’t regret at all.
Ford’s the one who finally breaks the silence. He saunters forward with his signature lazy swagger, a shit-eating grin already spreading across his face.
“Come on, Ava baby,” he calls, jerking his chin toward the Escalade. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
She doesn’t move. Not a damn muscle. She just stares past us, hands bunching tighter around her ribs like she’s physically trying to hold herself together.
Wes shifts on his feet beside me, then rolls his shoulders and steps forward cautiously. “Come on, Ava,” he coaxes. “Let’s not do this here.”
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes at how fucking pathetic he’s being.
Wes has always had a soft spot where she’s concerned. His tone alone is enough to tell her she’s got leverage, and sure enough…
Her gaze snaps straight to him, plush lips pursing.
“No,” she says, loud enough to echo across the empty lot. “I’m not getting in the car with you.”
Wes sighs and drags a hand through his hair, glancing over at me like maybe I have some kind of solution.
I don’t.
I’d rather rip out my own tongue than stand here negotiating with her.
Ford snorts under his breath and starts strolling closer, clearly enjoying himself. “Our Doll’s got a weird way of saying thank you for being rescued,” he remarks, a smirk lifting the corner of his mouth.
Ford’s idea of subtlety has always been nonexistent. He treats every conversation like a bar fight waiting to happen, welcoming chaos with open arms.
“By your brother,” Ava replies dryly, lifting her chin. “Not you.”
Ford’s grin vanishes. His eyes darken, jaw locking tight.
She has no idea what kind of animal she’s poking with that comment.
“You sayin’ you wanna go back?” Ford scoffs, gesturing vaguely toward the road. “Then by all means, return the merchandise, babe. Save us all a fuckin’ headache.”
Her expression cracks for half a second– so quick that most people wouldn’t catch it, but I do. The wounded flash in her eyes disappears almost instantly, replaced by cold fury.
“At least they were up front about who they were and what they wanted,” she grits out.
Something twists in my chest. Not sympathy– I don’t do that emotion. More like a slow, venomous recognition that she’s right.
And I hate it.
I’ve also reached the limit of my tolerance for this back-and-forth.
“Get in the fuckin’ car, Ava,” I bite out, sharp enough to cut glass.
I don’t wait for a reply. I already know how this ends. Turning on my heel, I start walking back toward the Escalade, gravel crunching under my boots with every step.
She’s got two choices: follow, or stay here in the middle of fucking nowhere. And if she chooses wrong, that’s on her.
