Chapter 185: The Past is Back

DAVID’S POV

My life has been nothing short of numb since I left everything behind in L.A.

Since I walked out of prison.

Since I vanished without saying a word—to save what little was left of my name. Of my dignity.

When they told me it was Ava who bailed me out, something inside me snapped. Shame twisted like a knife in my gut. Ava—the woman I betrayed—was the one who pulled the strings to get me free.

I wanted to be angry. Furious, even. But all I felt was humiliation.

I couldn’t even look her in the eye and apologize for everything after that.

So I ran.

I changed countries with my family. Dragged my little brother out of the wreckage with me. Set fire to everything I was back there. I thought maybe if I disappeared, the stain of who I’d become would fade too.

It didn’t.

It followed me like a curse.

And the worst part? I'd do it all again—every crime, every lie, every sin—if it meant protecting the people I loved. Our honor. What little legacy we had left.

But forgetting her?

Ava Miller?

That was the part I never managed.

I buried myself in bodies to try. Faceless girls. Hookers. Strangers. Tourists looking for thrill. I lost count of how many. Every day, a new pair of lips. A new warm body to dull the edges. To fuck out the ache.

None of them worked.

They moaned, they begged, they bled—but they are not her.

And now tonight…

It all came crashing back.

Because Ava’s little sister came barging into my goddamn bedroom screaming like a banshee mid-thrust—and suddenly I was Mason Brown again, stupid with obsession and lust and rage and shame all wrapped in one.

“Turn around,” I growled at the girl on my bed.

Her head snapped toward me, messy hair clinging to her sweat-slicked face. I didn’t even know her name. Didn’t care. Picked her up at the club earlier tonight—drunk, desperate, nameless. The way I liked them.

Disposable.

She purred, slow and syrupy. “You wanna go again, zaddy? Can’t get enough of me?”

Her voice made my skin crawl. Maybe it was the way she said it. Maybe it was because she wasn’t her.

Not Ava.

I didn’t respond. Just grabbed her roughly, flipped her over on the bed, and pushed her face down into the pillow. Her ass arched as I spread her thighs open, and drove myself inside with a force.

She let out a high-pitched scream—sharp at first, pain mixing with pleasure. I didn’t care. She started grinding into me fast, whining, her slick folds clenching around me with every thrust.

I didn’t stop. Couldn’t. My mind wasn’t in that room. It was spiraling somewhere else. Somewhere worse.

All I could see was Ava.

All I could hear was her sister’s judgmental voice.

That fucking look of disappointment on her face.

I gritted my teeth and went harder. One hand gripping her hip, the other spreading her ass open wider so I could bury myself deeper.

The wet slaps of our bodies echoed in the room, vulgar and fast and raw. I was so deep I could barely breathe. The plop of her wetness kept me locked in the rhythm as I kept pumping into her.

She started moaning louder now, grinding against me, her walls clenching tight like she wanted to swallow me whole.

But I wasn’t in it.

I was gone.

Back in the past I never escaped. A name I never forgot. A ghost I never laid to rest.

“Ava,” I groaned.

I didn’t even mean to say it.

But it slipped out like a wound splitting open.

She didn’t notice.

She was too far gone, her face mashed into the pillow as she begged for more.

I gave it to her. I gripped her tighter, drove into her like she was just flesh for forgetting. But I didn’t forget.

I will never forget.

I slammed forward with one final thrust and came with a violent shudder, collapsing forward, breath jagged, every nerve screaming. Her back was sticky with it. My cum.

I stayed there a second, chest heaving, arms locked.

And then the shame hit.

Same routine. Every fucking time.

I stood up without looking at her and grabbed the towel by the chair. Threw it at her like she was a problem I was done solving.

She didn’t move.

I didn’t care.

I headed for the bathroom, eyes hollow, skin burning.

What the fuck was Holly doing here?

Had Ava sent her to spy on me? No—she’d never do that. Ava loved her sister more than her own life. She’d never drag her into this. Which means…

Besides, why would Ava even want to spy on me?

It only means that Holly came on her own.

To find me.

But why?

I turned on the shower, gripping the tile with both hands, water pounding down on my shoulders like punishment. I was spiraling.

Was she here for revenge? Closure?

To see the broken man her sister once pitied?

Or was it worse?

Was she fucking my brother?

Justin.

My jaw clenched so tight it cracked. I wouldn’t put it past them. Wouldn’t be surprised if this was some twisted full-circle payback. But I wouldn’t allow it.

I won't let that brat crawl into my past and rip it open again. And I damn sure won’t let her drag my brother into it.

She needed to go.

Now.

When I stepped out of the bathroom, water still dripping down my chest, towel around my waist, the girl was still there.

Still naked.

Still lying in my bed like she belonged there.

Like she thought she mattered.

“What the fuck are you still doing there?” I muttered, grabbing her clothes from the floor.

She blinked at me lazily, pouting. “Baby, it’s late. Just come back to bed. I’ll go in the morning after I fix you a little breakfast in—”

“No.” I cut her off, cold and sharp. I yanked the sheet off her and threw her dress at her chest. “Get dressed. I’m dropping you off.”

She scowled. “You’re seriously kicking me out now? After all that?”

“It’s either you dress and I drop you off, or I throw you out naked. Your choice.”

Her jaw dropped. “You’re a fucking psycho.”

“And you’re in my house,” I snarled, dragging her upright by the arm.

She yanked her wrist out of my grip. “Fine,” she hissed, grabbing her clothes. “I’m going to wash your fucking cum off my body first.”

I didn’t answer.

I didn’t have to. I just wanted her gone.

She slammed the bathroom door behind her hard enough to shake the walls.

Ten unbearable minutes later, she came out fully dressed, heels in hand, makeup smudged, glaring at me like I’d stolen her damn soul.

I didn’t care.

I led her to my Jeep in silence, ignoring the venom in her stare.

Dropped her off at the address she spat at me and drove off before she even closed the door properly.

She screamed after the car, flipping me off as I peeled away.

I didn’t look back.

They always cursed me. Always blamed me after I fucked the truth into them.

They came for pleasure.

They left with pieces missing.

I thought about heading back to the club. Maybe pick up someone else. Maybe bury myself in another body to shut it all up again.

But the damage had already been done.

Ava’s sister is here. In Chile.

And whatever she came for—closure, revenge, maybe just to watch me rot—she was playing a dangerous game.

So I turned around and headed back to my place with one name on my mind.

Holly.

Because she came back into my life with fire in her eyes, ink on her ass, and my goddamn name on her lips.

And I had no idea what she wanted.

But if she was looking for the devil?

She fucking found him.