I drop Ava’s phone onto the table, something ugly building in my chest. “Yeah, it’s too fucking far” I say flatly, staring him down. “Even for you.”
He rolls his eyes, sauntering toward the kitchen to grab another beer from the fridge. “Jesus, you sound like my father,” he scoffs as he passes me, shoulder brushing mine on purpose. “Didn’t know she’d turned you into such a pussy, Wes.”
That’s it.
I move before I think, my hand hitting his chest hard, shoving him back into the counter as he reaches for the fridge.
“Don’t be a prick,” I snarl.
He shoves me right back, just as hard.
I go at him again– harder this time, the edge of real violence cutting in– and suddenly Raf’s there, stepping between us.
“Hey,” he barks, planting a hand on each of our chests to keep us apart. “We don’t fight over bitches that don’t matter.”
The words hit wrong, and I feel the shift immediately.
“Did you sign off on this bullshit?” I snap, jerking my chin toward Ava’s phone on the table.
“Doesn’t matter,” he grumbles, too fucking calm. “We operate as a unit.”
“Do we?” I shoot back, a sharp laugh breaking out. “Because it sure as hell feels like I’m getting cut out of a lot of shit lately.”
Ford barks a laugh behind him. “Has someone fucking body snatched you? The old Wes would’ve found this hilarious.”
I lunge again, but Raf anticipates it and shifts with me, effortlessly blocking my attempt at another shove. My hands curl into fists, the urge to swing– to hit something, anything– pulsing hot under my skin.
But I stop.
Barely.
Dragging in a sharp breath, I force myself back a step, then another, jaw clenched so tight it aches.
“Fuck this,” I mutter, turning on my heel and stalking off down the hall.
Ava’s door is shut, and I slow as I reach it, the last threads of adrenaline still buzzing under my skin. I hover there for a second, listening to the silence on the other side before raising a fist to knock.
“Go away,” Ava calls, her voice muffled through the door.
My hand drops to the knob anyway, just to check if she locked it. She didn’t. It turns, and the door creaks open.
I peek my head in.
She’s on her bed, knees hugged to her chest, eyes rimmed red. She looks so small, so delicate. Too damn fragile for this place.
My throat tightens as I step inside, hands raised in mock surrender like that’ll soften the intrusion. “Ford shouldn’t have done that,” I murmur.
She snorts. “Ya think?”
I sigh, easing the door shut behind me, arms folding across my chest as I lean back against it. “For what it’s worth, he’s right about the flyer,” I say, knowing the words are useless but pushing forward anyway. “It’ll make a splash. The Dollhouse will get the message loud and clear, and–”
“And what?” She lifts her head just enough to meet my eyes, and the look in hers fucking guts me. “I get to have my first time as a party trick?”
The bitterness in her voice is so thick it tightens my own chest.
I exhale slowly, my head tipping back against the door with a dull thud.
I don’t know what to say.
