“Promise?” I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips.
He wags his eyebrows. “You’re stuck with me like herpes, bitch.”
I grimace, and he bursts out laughing.
This time, it’s infectious. The tension in my chest finally cracks, and I laugh along with him, the two of us losing ourselves in it. We sit there for a while afterward, breathing in the quiet, everything feeling lighter than it did when I first walked in.
“Hey,” Bryce says, nudging my thigh with his foot. “You really okay?”
I jerk a nod. “Yeah.” For the first time in a long time, I might actually mean it.
“You ever need anything, I’m here,” he declares. “Even if it’s just somewhere to hide out or someone to talk you down from a panic attack.”
My pulse jumps, warmth blooming in my chest. “Thanks.”
Bryce sits up and grabs the lighter from the nightstand, flicking his thumb against the wheel. The small flame bursts tolife in an orange flash that illuminates his face. “Let’s burn it all down, then.”
The words settle deep in my bones, fierce and bright.
I close my eyes for a moment and picture it– a world where I’m not owned by anyone, where I don’t have to sell pieces of myself just to survive, where the Kings are nothing more than a bad memory. I hold onto that vision, breathe it in.
And when I open my eyes again, I say, “Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER 13
FORD
I’m sunkdeep into the living room recliner, legs sprawled wide with my laptop balanced across my thighs, attempting to orchestrate a little cyber chaos against the Dollhouse.
Technically, I should be working on the term paper due next week. But why bore myself to tears when I could give myself an actual challenge?
The account that made payment to Gideon was supposed to be untraceable. To the average person, anyway. But I’m a goddamn genius, so I found a way to crack the encryption. Now I’m chasing the rabbit down the hole, following the trail back to the originating bank. Once I find it, the rest is just a matter of gaining access and deciding how to inflict the maximum amount of damage.
The apartment door swings open, and Ava stumbles in, her backpack thumping against the floor as it slides off her shoulder. She’s grinning to herself, cheeks flushed pink, the ends of her chestnut hair a little wild.
The second she spots me in the recliner, the smile disappears, her expression flattening into practiced boredom.
“Where’s Wes?” I ask as she kicks the door shut behind her.
“Dunno,” she breathes, toeing off her shoes. “Probably flexing his biceps at the gym or something.
I narrow my eyes, suspicion prickling. “And where the hell have you been?”
“With Bryce.” She slides her backpack toward the wall with her foot, then heads for the kitchen.
I snap my laptop closed. “Thought we told you not to hang out with that loser anymore?”
“And I thought I told you to go to hell,” she fires back, her tone lacking the edge it had earlier.
There’s something different about her– she’s moving slower than usual, shoulders relaxed, eyes gone a little glassy around the edges. At first, I can’t quite place it.
Then it clicks.
“Are you high right now?” I ask, amused.
She grabs a La Croix from the fridge and leans against the counter, popping the can open with her thumb. “A little,” she replies with a shrug.
There’s a soft lilt in her voice– something easy and sultry that goes straight to my dick.
