She’s the match I keep striking.
CHAPTER 48
AVA
My heart poundsin time with the rap of my knuckles against Bryce’s door, the hollow sound echoing down the hallway. One second passes. Then another. I knock again, harder, desperation mounting like the pressure of a grenade seconds before detonation. Just when I feel like I’m about to crack open, the door swings wide.
Bryce stands there in a hoodie and sweats, blinking against the harsh overhead lights of the hallway, platinum hair sticking out in all directions like he just rolled out of bed. An easy smirk slides across his face when he finds me on the other side of his door, leaning a shoulder against the frame.
“Well well, look who’s come down from her tower to mingle with the commoners,” he jokes, arms folding.
I try to smile, to match his energy, but I can’t even keep it together for a damn second. My lower lip trembles, the tears I’ve been holding back springing to my eyes.
His playful smirk disappears instantly. “Hey,” he breathes, brows pinching together in concern. “Ava, what happened?”
I shake my head, try to speak, but all that comes out is a choked sob– quiet and raw, the kind that catches in your chest and refuses to let go. Bryce is the last person I shouldbe dragging into this mess, but he’s also the only person here I trust. He’s the only one I can turn to for comfort.
He doesn’t hesitate to give me what I’m seeking. Bryce immediately reaches out and pulls me into him, arms wrapping tight around my shaking shoulders as he gently urges me into the room. The door clicks shut behind us, muffling the noise of the world outside. It feels like stepping into a vacuum, quiet and still and safe.
I sag against him, body half-collapsing under the weight of everything I’ve been carrying. He doesn’t ask questions or make me feel foolish. He just holds me like it’s the most normal thing for me to fall apart in his arms.
“Thanks,” I manage to whisper, voice hoarse and thin.
I threw on a hoodie and leggings to come down here, but I can still smell Ford on my skin. He’s on my mind, on my body. Woven into my damn soul.
“Come sit,” Bryce coaxes, carefully guiding me over to the bed like I’m made of glass. The mattress dips beneath my weight as he urges me to sit down, familiar and solid.
He crouches in front of me, eyes searching mine like he’s trying to decode whatever storm I walked in with. Then he exhales slowly and stands again, disappearing for a second before returning with a joint and lighter.
He props the window open with one hand and lights up with the other, letting the smoke drift out into the chilly morning air. The familiar scent curls in the air between us, grounding and warm. He takes a drag, then offers it to me.
I hesitate, but only for a second.
Taking the joint from his fingers, I bring it to my lips while Bryce watches me closely. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask. He just sits beside me on the edge of the bed, the silence stretching soft and wide between us like he knows I’ll fill it when I’m ready.
The hit burns on the inhale, but I let it settle into my lungs like something close to peace. Then I exhale with a shuddering cough and for the first time in hours, days,weeks, I start to breathe again.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” Bryce asks softly, like he’s afraid even talking at a normal volume might shatter me. “You look like you’re about to self-destruct.”
I take another hit from the joint, hands trembling despite the warmth curling through my chest. “I think I screwed everything up,” I admit, the words ragged and raw. My throat tightens again, and I blink against the fresh wave of tears.
Bryce leans back, resting on his elbows and watching me closely. “Start from the beginning,” he says, calm and patient, like he’s got all the time in the world. Like I haven’t already dragged him into something radioactive.
I stare at the floor for a second, chewing the inside of my cheek, then exhale hard through my nose. “They came after me the second I got here. The Kings.” My voice cracks, but I push forward, needing to get the words out that I’ve held back for so long. “They didn’t give me a choice. They took a video of me, threatened to send it to everyone if I didn’t do whatever they said. I didn’t ask for any of this. I never wanted to be their Doll. I just… couldn’t say no.”
The truth lands like a lead weight on my chest. Saying it out loud makes it real in a way it hasn’t been before. My voice trembles, and I feel the tears finally spill over. Bryce doesn’t flinch. He just shifts closer, sliding an arm around my shoulders like a protective shield.
“And then,” I continue, sniffling, “I think some part of me started to like it. The attention. The danger. I got caught up in it, to the point where I don’t even know who I am anymore.”
Bryce doesn’t say anything at first. He just nods slowly, like he already knew and was just waiting for me to come out and admit it.
“And now?” he asks after a beat of silence.
“Now I don’t know what to do,” I whisper, the words breaking apart between shallow breaths. I slump into him, my face buried in his shoulder. “I thought maybe things were changing. That they cared. That Ford…” I trail off, unable to even get the words out. His betrayal still tastes bitter in my mouth.
Ford was the King I felt closest to, but what he said this morning was proof that he’s never cared at all. Not about me as a person. To him, I’m just a nameless, faceless doll to be used and discarded.
Bryce’s hand finds the back of my head, fingers threading gently through my hair and massaging my scalp soothingly. With his other hand, he plucks the joint from between my fingers before it singes me, taking a drag and blowing the smoke out the cracked window.
