Page 25 of Broken

All I can see is the look of pain in Ava’s eyes when she looks around and realises what happened. There are perverts all around the room stroking their dicks, some even outside their trousers, not bothering to hide their actions. As she looks around, she sees them all, she hears the words they call her, and her face contorts into pain. It looks like she is going to burst into tears right there on the seat, but then her face changes. She becomes blank and distant, almost as though she is wearing a mask to hide her real feelings, but it’s the look in her eyes that bothers me the most. They are vacant and don’t hold even a flicker of fire that I am used to seeing in her beautiful brown eyes. It worries me that a part of Ava will never be the same again after this and I'm not sure I can blame her.

“Well now, gentlemen, that was quite a show, wasn’t it? Now that my beautiful bride-to-be has learnt some respect, I feel confident that this marriage will be very useful. But, I want you all to heed this warning. I brought you here because you are my closest allies, you are the men who have shown me the most loyalty and respect over the years and for that, I thank you. Tonight, you helped me discipline Ava. But from the moment you walk out of this door, tonight will not have happened. As far as everyone else in the world is concerned, Ava has always been the beautiful, obedient woman that I feel sure she will be from now on. She is not a slut or a whore, she will be my wife. You will not degrade or humiliate her in any way, doing so would be a direct insult to me. Tonight, I allowed you to see Ava’s beauty and what I have to look forward to, but she is all mine. From the moment she begged me to make her cum, she agreed to be mine. You will all do well to remember that. Is that understood?” Shouts of agreement fill the room and suddenly there are no cocks swinging around or men leering at Ava. They are all sitting upright as though someone shoved a rod up their arse, while they look anywhere but at the beautiful, broken girl in the middle of the room.

“Ava, baby, please confirm to my men you have learnt your lesson so we can go on with the evening. There is a party going on, after all.” Grant’s request is like the final nail in Ava’s coffin and I can see her cheeks fill with shame. She bows her head into her knees and speaks out with the tiniest voice.

“I’m sorry I disrespected you. I’ve learnt my lesson. I am your… yours.” Although Ava’s voice is tiny, it is also monotone. She sounds like a robot, just relaying the information that she has been told to. Well, right up until the end that is. When she gets to the part where she has to confirm to Grant that she belongs to him, she stutters over the words. She looks up at me and with her vacant eyes boring into mine, it’s clear what she means. She is talking to me and not him.

It doesn’t mean much to anyone else in the room, and I don’t even think it registered to Grant what she did, but I heard it. It was her way of saying she will be his wife, but she will never be his. She wants to be mine. A spark of hope ignites in my chest and I think that the feisty Ava I love so much is still in there. Her flame may be dimmed right now, but it is not out completely. I just wish she wasn’t looking at me like I am just another one of the perverts here in the room. Because that is exactly what is happening. When she walked in, she looked at me with lust and seduction as she remembered the night she bared herself to me, exposing her beautiful tattoo. She looked at me like she wanted to climb me in front of everyone. Now that spark has gone. Instead, she looks at me with a mostly vacant expression due to the mask she is wearing, but when the mask slips, I get to see her real feelings. The pain, the shame, the disgust, the anger that are all bubbling under the surface. Then when she looks at me with disappointment and regret, I can feel tears start to fill my eyes. She may want to be mine, but that causes her pain because I let her down. I stood here and let it happen. She has every right to feel those things, but fuck, are they like a knife to the chest.

Grant seems satisfied by Ava’s response as he calls for everyone in the room to go back down to the party. As the sick freaks go to leave the room, they are back to wearing the gentleman facades they had when this night started. Before they behaved like a hyped up mob and degraded a beautiful girl into nothing more than a slut. I feel the urge to punch each and every one of them grow as they walk up to Ava to say goodbye. They have the nerve to pretend like this was a social gathering. They say how lovely she is, how much of a pleasure it was to meet her, and how happy they are for the couple. When they tell her how much of a beautiful bride she will be, I see her shoulders sag. She does her best to nod at them from her scrunched up position on the chair. The first one offered her his hand and she ignored it, so the others learnt from that and didn’t offer. But the whole time they are interacting with her, despite her nods, she never makes eye contact. Her gaze remains fixed on her knees and it’s like she is a vacant shell of herself.

The room clears except for Grant, Ava, myself, and Vic. Since we are his security team, it only makes sense that we would remain with him, but I have another idea. Before Grant has a chance to give any orders, I decide to step in. I have become an expert at making him think they are his ideas and I hope it will work now.

“So, Grant, I take it you are planning to go back to the party?” I ask and as he confirms, I swiftly continue to avoid him interrupting. “I think Vic should go with you to the party, he knows all the security plans. Ava, here, is in no fit state to meet the rest of your guests like this. Maybe it would be better for them to meet her another time, when she is at her best? I could take her upstairs and guard her up there. I will make sure she has all the necessary first aid things she needs and secure her in her room. How does that sound?” When I speak, I try to make it sound like he is the one in charge and that I am desperately trying to please him. Grant responds best when he thinks that people are obeying him. He has a craving for power and control, most likely because he has never had that around his father.

Grant smiles and walks towards me. At first I’m a little hesitant, he has been harder to read lately and his unpredictability is a whole other factor to consider when I am looking for danger. But I know that no matter how he comes at me, I could take him easily, so I wait it out to see what he is planning. When he is in front of me, he reaches up and pats me on the arm in what I am assuming is a friendly gesture. Fuck, that is freaking me out.

“Ryder, I’m so glad I have you. Always one step ahead, thinking about what I need to do. You are right, of course. I can’t show my bride off in this current state. Take her upstairs and guard her. My men saw more tonight than I intended and I don’t want anyone getting any grand ideas thinking that they can touch what is mine. You, I trust completely, to guard her as though she were me.” I gulp as he speaks, wondering if he knows, but there is no way he does. We were far too careful. I school my features so he doesn’t know what I am thinking, I also have to hide the insurmountable anger I feel at him referring to Ava as his.

“Of course, I will,” I reply. With that, he flashes his freaky grin at me to let me know he is pleased with my response. Then without any further fuss or even looking in Ava’s direction, he leaves the room and Vic follows like the good little lap dog he is trained to be. I realise then, it is just me and Ava in the room now and she still looks just as vacant and terrified as she did when it was full of people. She doesn’t see me as any better than them any more and I feel my heart crack. I kneel down in front of her, making sure I am at her level, but I’m far enough away to give her space. I have dealt with victims before, and if you rush in, you lose them. I need to build the trust back up with her and I'm not even sure it’s possible.

“Ava, I’m going to take you upstairs away from everyone. You will be safe in your room, I promise. Do you feel able to walk?” I speak in the gentlest tone I can so as not to scare her. She looks like a frightened little mouse right now, and at any moment, she can bolt. She looks up at me with her vacant eyes, but doesn’t say a word. Her silence speaks volumes because she knows I’m lying. I can’t promise her safety and I have no right to act like her rescuer because I am a little late to that party. Fuck, I can’t deny the burning need I have sizzling over my skin, screaming at me that I need to take care of her. He wasn’t gentle with his beatings and I need to make sure she is not hurt physically. With her silence, I’m at a loss for what to do. I know what I want to do, but I better ask first, so she doesn’t hit me.

“Ava, please will you let me carry you upstairs, away from this room?” I ask gently and I see her glance her eyes around the room. She is obviously remembering it full of men because her eyes start to fill with tears again, but she refuses to let them fall. When she gives a small but definite nod, I feel like my chest is going to explode and I spring into action.

Scooping up this tiny girl should be easy. Hell, I did it the other night when I threw her onto my bed, but this time is different. I need to be tender and aware of the mottled skin that adorns most of her thighs, arse, and back. Before I reach to pick her up, I take off the shirt I am wearing. At first, her gaze flashes with undeniable heat at seeing my bare chest and fuck, does that not make me feel like a lucky son of a bitch. Then it all comes crashing down when just as quickly fear reaches her eyes. Her brain obviously overthinking has brought the whole situation into focus. She was just assaulted in front of a room full of men and now she sees me removing my clothes. She starts to panic and scrambles in on herself. Fuck, doesn’t she know that I would never hurt her?

“No… no, Ava, please. You don’t have to be afraid, I would never hurt you. I just wanted to give you my shirt to cover you up.” Ava looks down, almost like she had forgotten she was almost naked. She holds her hand out for me to give her the shirt, which I do straight away. She shuffles about as she pulls the shirt on around her back, placing her arms inside. As she moves, I see that she winces and tries her best to make no sound, it's obvious she is in pain and that sinking feeling I’ve had all night in my gut returns. Why didn’t I stop him?

My mind is stuck in a self deprecating loop as I berate myself for allowing this gorgeous girl to be hurt in such a way. No matter how rational my brain is, I cannot deny my heart wanted to do the right thing and the fact I didn't, kills me. I make sure I look down at the ground to give her some privacy as she buttons up the shirt, she has been exposed enough for one day and I don’t want to make it worse. But when I look up, I see her hands are no longer tucked around her knees, they are holding onto both sides of the collar. Her knees are relaxed a little more now that she knows her body is covered. Then I see her take a deep breath and I realise she is inhaling my scent from the shirt collar. The way her body responds as her shoulders sag and her muscles relax, the barest hint of a smile on one corner of her lips, they all give me hope. Hope that my Ava, my feisty vixen, is still in there and I haven’t lost her yet. I try to pretend the thought of my smell giving her reassurance and safety doesn’t give me the biggest head alive and a smile adorns my lips for the first time on this shit hole of a night.

Once Ava is covered fully with my shirt, I move towards her slowly, my eyes seeking the consent my lips are too scared to voice. Her nod is so small, if my vision had not been tuned into every single flex her body makes, I might have missed it, but I didn’t. It was there, clear as day and as though she weighs nothing, which, of course, to me, she doesn’t, I scoop her up into my arms. My brain flashes to an image of what this could have been like if we had met under different circumstances. Maybe if we had met without all of this bullshit, then one day I would be carrying her over the threshold as my wife, not his. But I put that out of my mind and try to take what little pleasure I can from the here and now.

It doesn’t take long for my fantasy to blow up into a puff of smoke. Even just the slightest touch of my skin against hers has Ava hissing and jumping from the pain. It’s a stark reminder of the damage that has been inflicted on her poor petite body. But when she willingly wraps her arms around my neck, it feels right again. Except it’s clear she isn’t holding on for comfort, instead it feels as though she is digging her fingers and hands into my skin, desperate for me to never let her go. To show her she is safe, I pull her in tighter, almost squeezing her to let her feel the warmth of my whole body. I hate the initial wince in pain when I pull her tight, but then, when she nestles her face into the crook of my neck and closes her eyes, I know she feels safe.

I practically run upstairs to the floor we share, not wanting anyone from that hideous party downstairs to see us. Once we reach her room, I all but kick the door down to get her inside before closing it again with my foot once we are on the other side. I walk straight over to the bed and lay her down on it. Her breathing has slowed down, but I can tell she isn’t asleep. She is merely vacant and statuelike, as she has been since her ordeal ended.

She obviously feels the moment her back connects with the softness of the bed because instead of relaxing into it as you would expect, she freezes and grips tighter onto me. Her eyes fly open and are as wide as saucers as she surveys the room. When she realises she is in her own room and she is safe, she slowly lets go. It’s almost like there’s a war going on behind those pretty brown eyes. She isn’t sure if she wants to let go of me, but then she remembers what happened and she drops me like I’m on fire. She rolls over into a ball and just lays there. I know this is my cue to leave, but obviously I’m either a dumb motherfucker or a glutton for punishment because I don’t leave. I know she is trying to hide it, but I can hear the tears falling from her eyes. She is quiet and they are probably a lot fewer than she has every right to shed, but just seeing one of them fall is my undoing.

I reach over and touch Ava’s forehead, I begin stroking her face and wrapping her sweat matted hair behind her ears. Even when she looks like this, she is beautiful. The sweet gesture seems to be too much for Ava because it causes her to cry further. This was not my intention and it’s like a fucking knife to the heart. I didn’t want to cause her more pain, I would never want that.

“Ssh, little vixen, you don’t need to cry. I’ve got you. You’re back in your room and you are safe with me. I’ve got you.” As I softly mutter the words into her ear, the second lot of repetition is more for myself than her. It's my way of telling myself this cannot happen again. I need to figure out a plan. But it would seem Ava doesn’t take my kind words the way she should, instead they light a fire in her eyes. She swats my hand out of the way before firmly pushing against my chest. Her tiny strength isn’t enough to actually do anything to me, but I'm not that much of an idiot that I don’t know when I’m not wanted. So I allow her to push me off the bed. What surprises me is that she then follows, but gone is the vacant shell of a girl I carried up here. This girl is different. She may have the fire of my old Ava, but she has the hurt and the pain of the Ava from tonight. It’s a painful combination to witness, but fuck, if just seeing her filled with fire in her eyes again doesn’t cause my cock to twitch. I’m so busy thinking about my bloody dick that when she pushes me with both hands against my chest, she actually manages to catch me off guard and I stumble backwards.

“Did you really just say that you’ve got me? What a sack of shit. The time for you to have my back passed hours ago and instead you stood there with the rest of the pathetic excuse for the male species and you did nothing. Tell me, Ryder, were you one of the one’s calling me a slut? Did you encourage that piece of shit to hit me harder? Or maybe you were there stroking your dick and getting off on my pain? So which was it?” The venom in her voice as she speaks are like spikes being stuck into my body. Every accusation that she throws at me wounds me a little bit more. Does she really think that just because I didn’t stop it, that must be because I was enjoying it?

“Ava, you know I would never do that. I wish to God I could have stepped in to stop it, but I couldn’t. There’s more at stake here than you know about and doing so could have put us both at risk.” I try to explain as much as I can, but I know she will never get it. All she sees is a guy who let her down.

“I don’t give a shit about your excuses, get the fuck out. NOW!” Her voice cracks as she shouts out the command. I move towards the door, trying to show her with my expressions how sorry I am. I know that hearing the words right now is not what she wants to hear, but I will say it anyway. As I open the door and step outside into the hall, I turn back to Ava. She is wiping away silent tears that are falling as though she doesn’t want me to know they are there.

“I’m sorry,” I say the words I need her to hear even if she doesn’t want to. I speak quietly but try to push as much emotion into those two little words as I’m capable of getting.

“So am I,” she whispers back before slamming the door in my face. I’m too stunned to move and that's when I hear it. My beautiful, strong Ava begins to sob. It is an ugly, hysterical cry that she has clearly been holding inside from the minute this whole thing ended. Of course, she would be the type of person that wouldn’t want them to see her real pain. Then I hear what sounds like her slumping against the other side of the supposedly soundproof door before scraping down to the floor and I just know that she is sitting on the other side of this door, on the floor, alone and in pain. I cannot hold it back, and for the first time in a very long time, I feel tears coming to the surface. I’ve always been raised by my dad to believe that real men don’t cry or show any real type of emotion. We get the job done, no matter what. But in this moment, the pain I feel at the part I played in Ava’s ordeal is too much. She is the only girl I have ever really had feelings for, and no matter how hard I try to pretend they don’t exist, they do. I know that some of the tears she is currently shedding are because of me and that rips my soul into pieces. I sit on the opposite side of the door, hoping that my presence can act as some kind of support. Who am I kidding? It’s me who needs to be close to her. I need to hear her pain, no matter how much it kills me. I have to remember this moment, the pain it caused me when I made the wrong choice. Hopefully, this moment is all I will need to remind myself this is what will happen, or worse, if I choose this job over Ava again. Fuck, I still don’t know if I could make a different decision.

The next morning, after a night of tossing and turning, I head downstairs. My body is coiled up with anxiety. A night of dreaming about Ava’s haunted eyes, her hateful words and hearing her desolate sobs will do that to a guy. Knowing exactly where I need to go, I make my way through the enormous house towards the little room Grant uses for his breakfast. It’s less ornate than the grand dining room, but just as pompous. It's still covered in flashy expensive artwork and big handcrafted wooden furniture. Before I go bursting in there, I stop myself and take a deep breath. I have to remember where I am and who I’m dealing with. I can’t forget every piece of information I have aquired about Grant over the last two years just because I am raging over a girl. Taking a few deep breaths and controlling my features to present the serious yet fun Ryder that he has grown close to, I knock on the door.

“Enter,” he bellows like he is a fucking king. God, he really is a cuntwaffle. I walk through the door and smile, waiting for him to speak first. He likes to think this is his show and right now, I need him to believe it is.

“Ryder, hello, please sit down. Would you like some coffee or breakfast?” Before he has even had a chance to finish the sentence, another house girl enters the room. They are nothing but well trained here. Initially, I wonder where Trixie is, but it's not unusual for there to be new staff wandering around. Grant isn’t the easiest to work for, but he is careful. They never see or hear anything they shouldn’t do. Anyone who even comes into contact with him, his business associates, or his father are subject to a rigid selection process including a less than legal deep dive background check. One of the things I pride myself on is the fact my team is good. Nobody gets within a mile of this house or Grant without my team knowing everything about them. He also has a very expensive lawyer, who, along with Vic’s threats, gets them to agree to the strictest non-disclosure agreement I have ever seen. There's a reason that the Blakeman family has ruled London for four generations, five if Grant takes power. They have this town and everyone they need firmly in their pocket. But I’m not like everyone else because I’m not afraid of him, which is how I’m able to join him for breakfast and not get shot for disturbing him. He thinks I’m his friend and I intend to use that to my advantage.

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