Ava sinks back into the rear seat, quiet now, and I keep my eyes fixed on the road ahead.
The sooner we get back to campus, the sooner everything can go back to the way it was.
And the sooner I can forget this slip-up ever happened.
CHAPTER 9
AVA
We ascendthe stairs of Sutton Hall in silence, Wes in the lead, Ford right on my ass, and Raf trailing half a flight behind. Even though these boys orchestrated my rescue, I still can’t shake the sense that I’ve just traded one brand of captivity for another. Or the cruel irony of how after everything I’ve been through, I’ve only wound up right back where I started.
Wes unlocks the apartment door at the top of the stairs and steps aside, gesturing for me to enter first like he’s some kind of gentleman. The moment I cross the threshold, I stop. Because though it feels like a lifetime since I left this place, inside, nothing’s changed.
Beer bottles sit abandoned on end tables. Half-empty cereal bowls crowd the sink. A crumpled black hoodie hangs over the back of the couch, and gaming controllers litter the coffee table as if tossed there in frustration after losing a match. The whole place looks exactly the way I left it, so familiar that it makes my chest ache.
Just last week, I was desperate to escape this apartment. Now, standing here again, it feels disturbingly close to coming home.
But I’m not the same girl I was when I left. For better or worse, the Dollhouse changed me, stripped away the last of my soft illusions about the world. It burned the hope out of me and replaced it with something colder and harder.
Over the past week, I’ve learned how cruel the world can really be, and that the only real choice you get in life is whether you’ll let yourself get crushed by the system or whether you’ll fight back against it.
I promised myself that if I ever got out of there, I’d fight.
So I’m not here to merely survive the Kings’ games. This time, I’m here to win them.
I move further into the apartment, drifting toward the center of the living room while the Kings filter in behind me. They fan out as they enter, each one unconsciously claiming his territory.
Wes goes straight to the kitchen, filling a glass from the tap and leaning against the counter, eyeing me over the rim as he drinks. Ford drops onto the arm of the couch, one leg slung out while his fingers flip his butterfly knife open and closed with absentminded menace. Raf lingers by the door, arms crossed, body blocking the exit as if to drive home the point.
I take a deep breath and turn to face them.
If I’m going to do this, it has to be now– before everything slides back into the same patterns we had before.
“I want to renegotiate the terms of our agreement,” I say, my voice coming out steady and confident.
Wes raises his brows, intrigued. Ford barks a sharp, surprised laugh. Raf just glares.
When none of them actually speak, nerves start fluttering in my stomach. I clasp my hands together in front of me, shifting my weight from foot to foot as I consider how to approach this. I need to hold my ground, find the backbone I swore I’d have if I escaped the Dollhouse.
No more lying down and letting them run the game.
I straighten my posture, lifting my chin and planting my hands on my hips. “If I’m going to stay here,” I say, “then you need to tell me everything. About the Dollhouse, about the Invictus, about your role here as Kings. All of it.” My gaze sweeps across the three of them. “No more secrets.”
Ford leans forward slowly, the butterfly knife still twirling between his fingers. He stops the motion with a flick of his wrist and points the tip toward me, fixing me with a look that’s all hunger and no mercy. “And why would we do that?” he asks, cocking a brow.
I force myself to hold his gaze. “Because that’s my condition for staying,” I reply evenly. “I’m not playing your game anymore if I don’t know the rules.”
For a moment, the room goes quiet.
Then Ford lets out a low whistle, dragging a hand over the stubble on his jaw as he studies me. “Big talk from the little Doll,” he muses. “You do realize you’ve got zero leverage here, right?” He gestures lazily around the apartment. “The only reason you got out of that place is becausewemade it happen. And now, we’re the only thing keeping you from being hauled back there to be sold off as a trophy wife for some limp-dick trust fund creep.” His smile sharpens. “Youneedus, Ava baby. Not the other way around.”
The words land like a slap, but I refuse to flinch. Not in front of them. Not anymore.
I square my shoulders, keeping my voice steady. “Then why bother bringing me back here at all?” I ask. “You could’ve made some other girl your Doll and left me there to rot.”
Ford’s grin fades to something colder. “Because you’re ours,” he answers simply. “It’s a matter of principle. Nobody fucks with what belongs to the Kings unless we say so.”
“What do you want, Ava?” Wes cuts in.
