At a party with friends, my boyfriend's "best friend," a girl named Tia, slung an arm around my shoulders with a theatrical swagger. "So, Ava," she began, her voice dripping with condescension, "I hear you're mixed-race. What kind of mutt are we talking about here?" The whole room erupted in laughter, praising her for her "humor." She brandished her beer bottle, swaying with mock gravity. "You know, these days, when you mix the breeds, the mutts aren't worth much." My expression didn't flicker. I simply raised my hand and sent it cracking across her face. Then, with a sweet smile, I asked her, "So, you purebred bitch, what's your going rate for a night?" 1 It wasn't until I moved back to the States that I first heard about her—the girl my boyfriend of three years, Andrew, had grown up with. Her name was Tia. Apparently, she was the pampered princess of their tight-knit circle of friends. At first, I didn't think much of it. A group of seven or eight guys growing up with one girl? Of course they'd be a little overprotective. It seemed normal enough. So when I was preparing to move back, I even bought a special gift for Tia. After all, if I was going to marry Andrew, I needed to fit into his world, to get to know his friends. People run in packs, right? Everyone has their crew. But I never could have imagined that the very first night Andrew took me out for drinks with his posse would be the night everything shattered. In my mind, the "best friend" Andrew and his buddies described was probably a bit of a tomboy—casually dressed, energetic, with a kind of handsome, girl-next-door charm. The reality, when I finally met her, was a jarring dissonance that nearly broke my brain. First off, this "best friend" was wearing a white button-down, but the top two buttons were undone, revealing a vast expanse of skin. A tantalizing glimpse of a round, full breast was framed by the delicate, suggestive pattern of black lace. And the skirt she wore—a tiny, skintight piece of fabric that barely covered the essentials—was shockingly short. She moved with a bold, uninhibited carelessness, and with every casual swing of her leg, I caught an almost unobstructed view of what lay beneath. Honestly, most women wearing a skirt that short would have the decency to wear a pair of safety shorts underneath to avoid any embarrassing slips. But not Tia. Not only were there no safety shorts, but all she had on was a sheer, black thong. They started a game of Truth or Dare. I'd never played and didn't know the rules, so I just sat quietly on the side, watching them descend into chaos. Tia lost several rounds in a row and had to take the dare. The penalty was a choice between taking a shot or taking off an item of clothing. Without a moment's hesitation, she chose the latter. The next thing I knew, her white shirt was sailing through the air, landing directly on my boyfriend Andrew's head. And that son of a bitch… he instinctively brought the fabric to his nose and took a deep sniff. Only then, like an obedient puppy, did he neatly fold it and set it aside. Now, Tia was left in nothing but a semi-sheer black lace bra, the dark aureoles of her nipples playing a game of peek-a-boo through the fabric. The sight was enough to make several of the men in the room swallow hard. I stood up, poured myself a soda, and pulled out my phone to text Andrew. “Andrew, I’m getting tired. Can we go soon?” I couldn’t stomach the scene any longer. A part of me was already planning a future conversation, a gentle reminder to Andrew that his childhood friend was a grown woman now. There were lines that shouldn't be crossed, boundaries to respect. After all, Tia would want to get married someday too. I chose to text him instead of making a scene—I always made a point of protecting his image, especially in front of his oldest friends. But what happened next left me frozen, the air sucked from my lungs. 2 The next round, Andrew was the loser. The dare he drew was… to choose a girl in the room and give her a hickey on her chest. A nauseating feeling washed over me. There was something deeply sordid and grimy about this whole night. He had seen my text. I knew he had. But he ignored it, pretending he hadn't noticed. Now, he picked up his glass, seemingly ready to drink his way out of the dare. But Tia was faster. She plopped herself right into his lap, throwing her arms around his neck and shouting, "What's the matter with you? Got a girlfriend and suddenly you've forgotten your old friends?" "It's just a hickey!" "Here, let me help you out!" The room exploded into another round of raucous laughter. Andrew's friends chimed in, their words a mix of mock protest and encouragement. "Come on, Tia, give Andrew a break. His girlfriend's right here." "Yeah, stop messing around," another friend said, reaching out to pull her away. But Tia's eyes welled up, her lip jutting out in a pout as she yelled, "It's just for fun! What's the big deal?" She turned to Andrew, puffing out her chest. "Well, Andrew? You want to do this or not?" And just like that, her D-cup breasts were right in his face. No, not just in his face—they were pressed firmly against it. The tips of Andrew's ears flushed a deep red. Then, he lowered his head and latched onto that soft, supple flesh. Tia arched her neck back in satisfaction, a series of soft moans escaping her lips as if she was in pure ecstasy. When Andrew finally pulled away, a stark, angry red mark bloomed on her once-pale skin. Everyone chuckled, the air thick with a suggestive, awkward tension, made all the more uncomfortable by my presence. A tidal wave of fury was building inside me, a suffocating pressure in my chest. Stay calm, I told myself. Just hold on until you leave, then you can talk this out with Andrew. But Tia's next move was something I never could have anticipated. She reached down and gave Andrew a casual, deliberate squeeze right between his legs. "You little devil," she giggled. "Looks like someone's grown up." Instantly, Andrew's face turned crimson. He shot a panicked, evasive glance in my direction. Tia, however, acted as if nothing had happened. She spun around and sauntered over to me. "Hey, sis," she cooed, leaning in close. "You're not mad, are you?" I was already planning my escape, needing to get out and breathe. This whole spectacle was just too much, too grotesque. And a serious question was beginning to form in my mind: were Andrew and I really right for each other? My parents had always had their reservations about him. The Collins family had been on a downward slide for years; their family business was bleeding out, desperate for a fresh infusion of capital. My mother had mentioned it to me in private more than once. But I'd brushed it off for a few reasons. First, our families had been close for generations, and our parents used to joke about us being destined for each other. Second, Andrew was undeniably handsome, exactly my type. And third, I had always stubbornly believed he was a fundamentally decent, gentle, and kind-hearted man. But tonight, he was shattering that illusion into a million pieces. "Listen, sis," Tia said with a laugh, "Andrew and I go way back. I'm talking 'since we were in diapers' back." "Back then, he'd let me check him out all the time, asking me if he was getting bigger yet." I remained stone-faced, impassive, and simply pushed her hand off my shoulder. She seemed annoyed by my silence. "What was your name again? Ava?" she asked, her tone sharpening. "Heard you're mixed-race. So, what kind of mutt are you?" A roar of laughter filled the room. "See? I told you Tia was hilarious! A half-breed… she's not wrong, that's a mutt, isn't it?" My eyes shot to Andrew, my gaze as cold as ice. He was smiling. He actually found this funny. Emboldened by her audience, Tia became even more smug. She propped one hand on her hip, holding her beer bottle in the other, and declared, "You know, these days, when you mix the breeds, the mutts aren't worth much at all!" Another wave of jeering laughter echoed around us. CRACK! My hand flew, the sound of my palm connecting with her cheek sharp and absolute. Tia stumbled back, clutching her instantly reddening face. "You… you hit me?!" she shrieked. "That's right, I hit a purebred bitch," I shot back. "Are you valuable? What's your going rate for a night?" Before the words had even fully left my mouth, I lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair and swinging my other hand to slap her again, hard, across the other side of her face. In my entire life, I had never been so humiliated. 3 Whatever twisted history Tia, Andrew, and their friends shared from their childhood—the kissing games, the groping, the crude explorations—that was their business. I didn't understand it, but I could choose to respect their past. After all, I was the one who had been blind enough to choose him. But for them to insult me, right to my face? I couldn't tolerate that for a single second. It was time to roll up my sleeves and have a "conversation." I had her pinned, raining down a dozen more slaps, before the guys finally scrambled to pull me off her. But then, that bastard Andrew raised his own hand, and a sharp, stinging pain exploded on my cheek as he slapped me. The metallic tang of blood filled my mouth, sharp and sweet. My ears rang with a dull hum, and through the haze, I could barely make out his furious barking. "Ava, are you insane? You can't even take a joke?" "And you're supposed to be from a good family!" "You resort to violence at the drop of a hat? What makes you any different from gutter trash?!" "Apologize! Now!" he roared, all while tenderly checking the marks on Tia's face. The other guys in the room just stood there, their faces plastered with smug, voyeuristic grins, enjoying the show. This worthless piece of trash… he actually hit a woman? The thought was shocking, but then again, maybe it shouldn't have been. It seemed the gentle, polite man I thought I knew was nothing more than a carefully constructed facade. I'm the kind of person who can stomach a lot of things, but I absolutely refuse to be wronged. I snatched a beer bottle from the table beside me and, without a second thought, smashed it over Andrew's head. With a deafening crash, the bottle shattered. A thin trickle of blood snaked its way down his cheek. After a moment of stunned silence, he pointed a trembling finger at me, his voice cracking with rage. "Ava, you… you've completely lost your mind!" "We're over! I'm breaking up with you!" I touched my own burning cheek and suddenly, a laugh escaped my lips. "Fine by me," I said. I turned to leave. Their filthy little circle was a place I couldn't, and wouldn't, want to belong. And as for Andrew, I was done with him. All I wanted was to get home, tell my mother everything, and have her immediately halt all partnership talks and prenuptial agreements with the Collins family. But just as I reached the door, Tia's shrill, piercing voice cut through the air from behind me. "Don't let her leave!" "Vince, lock the door! Lock it now!" The words were barely out of her mouth before she lunged for my phone on the coffee table and slammed it onto the floor with all her might. It skittered across the room, shattering into pieces. "Andrew, you can't let her go, and you can't break up with her!" Tia was screaming now, completely hysterical. "Your families are in the middle of a crucial deal! You can't let some stupid girl ruin everything!" "Whatever happened here tonight, you can't let her go out and spread it around!" "Andrew, if a woman doesn't know her place, you beat her! You beat her until she learns!" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Could these words really be coming from an educated, modern woman? Before I could even process that thought, Tia's voice, now laced with a venomous poison, hissed again. "You're pathetic, Andrew! You let a woman get the best of you?" "She dared to hit me. Tonight, I'm going to make her pay." I was almost curious to hear what form this "payment" would take. "You five," Tia commanded, her eyes glinting with a serpentine hatred, her voice a low, vicious snarl. "You're all going to have a turn with her. And I'm going to film every second of it. Let's see how high and mighty she acts after that." "Besides," she added, a cruel smile twisting her lips, "with a video like that, the Collins' family business deal will go exactly how you want it to, won't it?" "You think she'll call the cops?" "She's a darling of the high-society Sutton family. If something like this got out, how could she ever show her face again?" "The best way to deal with a bitch who doesn't know her place is to shame her, ruin her reputation so completely that she can never hold her head up again!" 4 An unspeakable terror, cold and venomous like a snake, began to uncoil from the deepest pit of my stomach. What kind of monsters were these people to even think, let alone say, such things? The man she'd called Vince was already blocking the door to the private room. We were in a karaoke bar, and like any other, the music in the hallway outside was deafening. Once that door was shut, all hell could break loose in here and no one would hear a thing. You could scream until your throat was raw, and people would just assume you were singing your heart out, never imagining a crime was being committed inside. Tia's words hung in the air, followed by a greasy voice, slick with amusement. "I don't know, man. Pretty sure Andrew's gonna be a little possessive." "Then again," the voice continued, "I've never had a taste of a 'mutt' before." "You go first, Andrew. Your boys have got your back!" Andrew’s eyes were locked on me as he advanced, step by deliberate step. Then, he started to unbuckle his belt. "Don't blame me for this, Ava." His gaze turned dark, his voice chillingly cold. "You should only blame yourself for not knowing your place." "Tia was just joking with you, and you had to go and make a scene, hitting people." "If we don't teach you a lesson tonight, you'll think you can walk all over us forever." "Heh..." A low, guttural growl, like that of a starving wolf, rumbled in his throat. There were five of them, plus the maniacal Tia. Six against one. And I was alone, unarmed. But— I have never been one to simply accept my fate. As Andrew's face twisted into a predatory sneer and he closed the distance between us, my hand shot out, grabbing another beer bottle from the table. CRASH! The bottle shattered in my grip. Without a sliver of hesitation, I lunged, plunging the jagged neck of the broken bottle deep into his abdomen. During my time abroad, the city I lived in wasn't the safest, so I'd taken a few self-defense classes. My instructor always said that women are at a natural disadvantage when it comes to physical strength. It's a biological fact. The only way to win is to be unpredictable, to strike when they least expect it. In any fight, speed is everything. Andrew never saw it coming. The strike was faster than lightning. He staggered backward, clutching his stomach with a muffled groan of agony. Blood began to seep through his fingers, dark and thick. The sight of it seemed to stun everyone in the room. For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of fear in their eyes. But Tia, she just got crazier. "What are you all waiting for?!" she shrieked. "Get her! Pin her down! Strip her!" "Who dares?!" I roared back, my voice raw. "Right now, this is just a drunken brawl! But if you lay another hand on me, it becomes a felony!" "This is between me and Andrew!" "It has nothing to do with any of you!" "You all have families, careers! Think about it! Is it really worth throwing your lives away for someone else's mess?" Doubt flickered across the faces of the remaining four men. I knew if I were some powerless girl with no connections, they wouldn't have hesitated. They would have done what they wanted and faced no consequences. But I wasn't. Behind me stood the entire Sutton family. And hurting me meant inviting their full, unbridled wrath. Tia, however, was relentless. "What are you afraid of?!" she screamed. "Once we have a video of her acting like a slut, she'll have to do whatever we say! We'll own her!" With every ounce of strength I had left, I hurled the remaining piece of the broken bottle straight at her head. She shrieked and ducked, covering her head with her hands. I seized the opportunity, grabbing every bottle on the table and launching them, one after another, at the men. The room descended into chaos. Glass exploded, spraying shards everywhere. Curses and screams filled the air. "Shut up! All of you!" In the middle of the mayhem, I lunged, grabbing Tia by the hair and yanking her in front of me. I pressed a sharp piece of broken glass to her neck, its edge digging into her skin. By the time Andrew managed to recover from the initial shock of his wound, I had a hostage. "Open the door!" My voice was hoarse, but it was filled with a primal, bloody rage. "Or we all die here tonight!" As I spoke, the glass shard in my hand bit deeper, drawing a thin line of blood on Tia's throat. 5 But just then, a wave of weakness washed over me. An uncontrollable heat surged from deep within my body, and a primal, unwanted desire began to rise. Tia, though I had her in my grasp, seemed to have lost her mind completely. She was still screaming, "Andrew! I drugged her drink! She won't last much longer!" My mind was a whirlwind of panic. There was only one thought left: They're all insane. These people are complete psychopaths! The heat inside me intensified, and the hand holding the glass shard began to tremble. Andrew stared at me, his face a mask of terrifying darkness. The blood on his head had started to clot, but the wound in his stomach was still weeping. The slightest movement sent a fresh wave of red soaking through his shirt. He pressed a hand against the wound, gritting his teeth against the pain. "Ava," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Drop the glass. Get on your knees and apologize to Tia, and we can let this go." "Otherwise—" His eyes were venomous, his words laced with ice. "You'll only have yourself to blame for not knowing your place. Tia was just joking with you." I summoned every last bit of my strength and pressed the shard harder against Tia's carotid artery. "Go to hell!" I rasped back. "You want me to apologize? In your dreams!" "Andrew! If you love this purebred bitch so much, why don't you just keep her? Why did you have to drag me into this?!" He opened his mouth, but no words came out. "Andrew, what are you waiting for?! You coward! You can't even handle one woman?!" Tia shrieked, fanning the flames. "Are you going to let her walk all over you for the rest of your life?!" Her words seemed to strike a nerve. He actually reached for me, his hand clawing towards my head. I shoved Tia straight at him. Already injured, he stumbled as he tried to catch her. The movement tore at his wound, and a fresh gush of blood poured out as a searing pain ripped through him. "Hey, boss, you gonna handle this or what? Want me to take over?" It was the same greasy voice from before, belonging to a guy named Mark. "Haha, this little 'mutt' is feisty. I like it!" he sneered, and then he made his move, lunging to grab my hair. Without hesitation, I swung my fist, smashing it directly into his eye socket. One punch. Two. Three. My instructor was right. Speed is everything. But the damn drug was making me dizzy, my limbs heavy and uncoordinated. If I stayed here any longer, I was done for. The scuffle had brought me closer to the door. I gathered the last of my energy and made a desperate dash for it. Tia's shrill voice screamed behind me, "Vince! Stop her! Don't let her get away!" Vince was the one with the wire-rimmed glasses, the one who looked like a quiet intellectual. As I swung a punch at him, he suddenly sidestepped, and in one swift motion, he reached out and threw the door open. "Miss Sutton, go! Now!" The moment I stumbled out into the hallway, my legs gave out from under me, and I nearly collapsed. The door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang. I could hear Tia's furious, hysterical shrieks from inside. "Vince, are you crazy?! Why did you let her go! Don't you know—" "Know what? That things couldn't possibly get any worse?" Vince's voice, in stark contrast, was eerily calm. "Andrew, you're a spineless coward! The future of your family rests on your shoulders, don't you get that?!" "That Sutton girl isn't just some random nobody. You think she's going to let you get away with pulling this kind of cheap trick on her?" "Andrew! He's just trying to screw you over!" Vince's laughter echoed from behind the door, tinged with a strange mix of despair and resignation. My heart was pounding, a raging fire consuming me from the inside out. I clenched the broken glass in my hand, letting the sharp edges dig deep into my palm. The searing pain was the only thing keeping me conscious. I staggered towards the exit. Thankfully, a line of waiting rideshares was parked right outside the bar.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "384653", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel