“Sure it does,” Ford pushes, pausing to dip the needle into fresh ink. “Once we take down your old man, the sky’s the limit, bro.”
I shoot Ford a warning look over my shoulder that says to keep his mouth shut, but he just waves me off.
“What, it’s not like she’s gonna tell him,” he laughs. “The guy fuckingsoldher.” He turns to Ava, flicking the gun off again. “We’ve been trying to take that bastard down for a while,” he provides, filling her in like she has any right to know.
Her mouth tightens. “Good,” she replies, jerking a nod. “I hope you do.”
I snort. “It’s not that simple.”
She shrugs. “Nothing ever is.”
My phone rings, the shrill sound of it slicing through the apartment. Not a normal ring, but the custom sound that tells me exactly who’s calling.
The Invictus.
Ford and I both snap to attention, him setting down the tattoo gun, me reaching for my phone on the table.
Ava’s eyes flick between us, wondering what the hell’s going on, but Ford just brings a finger to his lips, warning her to be quiet as my thumb hovers over the answer button on my screen.
For a second, I consider letting it go to voicemail. Then I remember what happened the last time I ignored a call.
I answer, putting it on speaker. “Romero.”
The voice on the other end is modulated, robotic and disguised as always. “The Doll’s initiation has been set. Next Thursday. You’ll deliver her to the crypt at midnight for her presentation.”
My hand tightens around the phone. “We’ll be there,” I reply, my voice flat. “Anything else?”
There’s a pause, then the call cuts off.
Ava lets out the breath she’s been holding, eyes rounding in fear. “What does that mean?” she asks.
Ford grins. “Means it’s time to make this official, Ava baby.”
Her eyes dart between us, searching for a lifeline that isn’t there. I stand up, the chair scraping against the hardwood, and turn to face her fully.
“Congrats,” I say hollowly. “Next week, you get to find out what the inside of the crypt looks like. Hope you’re ready.”
Ava doesn’t flinch. Not visibly, anyway. But there’s something in her eyes, a glint of steel that wasn’t there before.
She’s learning. Getting stronger.
Good. She’ll need it.
“Bring it,” she says, lifting her chin in challenge.
And fuck if that doesn’t make me want her even more.
CHAPTER 23
AVA
I wakeup on the cusp of an orgasm, which is… maybe the only way I ever want to wake up from now on.
It’s not a gentle, floaty orgasm that’s building, either. It’s the kind that folds you in half and strangles all the air out of your lungs until the world whites out behind your eyes. I have zero memory of falling asleep last night, but I know exactly where I am the second I blink myself awake– in Wes’s room, his navy bedsheets soft against my back, his head jammed firmly between my thighs. One of my legs is slung over his shoulder while my other foot quivers against the bed, toes curling so hard they hurt.
I squirm, hips jolting, and his hands pin my thighs wide with a pressure that’s all muscle and intent. My whole body tenses like I’m about to launch off the mattress, but Wes just holds me there, mouth locked over my clit, tongue relentless. It almost feels like torture, so fucking good I can’t think. I clutch at the sheets, then at his hair, pulling so tight my nails scrape his scalp.
He doesn’t even seem to notice. Just looks up at me from between my legs, eyes half-lidded and wicked, lips slick and shining. Then he hums against me.
