Wes is right at my heels, moving fast. He grabs my arm as I reach the mouth of the path back to the dorms, spinning me around to face him.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he coos, voice strangely gentle. “It’s over. He can’t hurt you now.”
I shake my head, trying to wrench out of his grip, but he holds me tight.
“We had to do it,” he murmurs, expression hardening. “You know that, right?”
I blink up at him, horrified by what I see in his eyes. That he truly believes it.
“No you didn’t,” I reply shakily. “Youchoseto.”
His grip loosens, but only marginally. He looks over his shoulder toward the boathouse, then back at me. “It’s done now,” he says flatly. “Just let it be over.”
I don’t respond. Ican’t.
He pulls me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me, his heartbeat thundering against my cheek. For a second, I actually let him hold me. For a second, I pretend it’s safe.
But I know better.
Raf’s voice cuts through the wind, sharp as broken glass. “Take her home,” he calls, wiping his bloody knuckles off on the leg of his jeans.
Wes nods like he’s taking orders from a general, then starts leading me down the path into the woods. I keep looking over my shoulder, half-expecting to see Ford trailing us with the bloody hammer, but he doesn’t follow.
My legs are rubber. My whole body trembles, every nerve ending in revolt.
The walk back to Sutton Hall is a blur. Wes doesn’t let go of my arm the whole way, and I don’t have the energy to pull away. We don’t speak, but the silence says enough. My mind loops over and over on the image of Travis Stoker, beaten beyond recognition, mouth full of blood and apology.
Helpless, just like I felt when he pinned me to the wall.
The air is colder now, the sun long gone. I pull my coat tighter to my body, grasping for warmth I can’t find. When we reach the entrance to the building, Wes stops and looks down at me.
“You okay?” he asks, voice so soft I barely hear it.
I want to tell him the truth. I want to scream that I’ll never be okay, that I’m trapped in a nightmare where the only thing worse than the monsters is the part of me that still wants them to want me.
But I just nod, walk through the door, and ascend the stairs. Once we make it to the apartment, I go straight to my bedroom and shut myself inside.
I’m not sure who I’m hiding from anymore.
The Kings… or the part of me that felt a tiny sliver of satisfaction at seeing Travis in pain, knowing I’m becoming a monster, too.
CHAPTER 25
FORD
“Ta-da!”I announce when Ava’s bedroom door swings open, throwing my arms wide.
She freezes in the doorway, clutching a hand to her chest like I just leapt out from under her bed wearing a clown mask. “What are you doing in here?” she demands, lips turning down in a frown.
“Is that any way to greet a man bearing gifts?” I cluck my tongue, folding my arms and leaning back against her dresser. “Come on, Ava baby. Where’s the gratitude?”
She doesn’t move, just scans the room like she’s checking for hidden cameras or tripwires. “The last time you had a ‘gift’ for me, it was an invitation to watch a guy get his face caved in with a hammer,” she points out, deadpan.
I lift both hands in an exaggerated shrug. “Yeah, but this is afungift.” I wag my brows, angling my chin toward the bed.
Her gaze follows, eyes widening when she sees the whole buffet I’ve laid out for her: two different vibrators, a rose-shaped clit stimulator, a bubblegum-pink butt plug with a jewel at the end, and, for my grand finale, an eighteen inch, double-ended dildo.
Ava’s face does this incredibly sexy thing where it manages to look disgusted, mortified, and aroused all at the same time. Her mouth drops open, then snaps shut, then hinges open again in stunned disbelief. “What the fuck,” she finally mutters, shaking her head. “Is that… did you really just put those on my sheets? Are thoseused?”
