Avery's Game Of Revenge
Chapter 184: Help You

Chapter 184: Help You

Taking in a deep breath, Archie took Avery’s hand firmly, guiding her toward the exit, but she suddenly dug her heels in and yanked him back with surprising force. Before he could react, she shoved him hard against the wall, her grip unyielding despite her slender frame. Her eyes were glazed, pupils blown wide as she glared up at him.

"I don’t want to leave," she hissed.

Exhaling sharply, Archie disagreed, "We have to."

"No!" she snapped, her voice rising.

He glanced around, jaw tightening. "Keep your voice down," he muttered. "I don’t have my ID on me. Even if I’m recognized without it, the last thing we need is headlines about the McCallum Group’s granddaughter drunk and harassing a man in some back-alley club."

Avery’s expression darkened, defiance flashing in her eyes. "I don’t care." Then, without warning, she slumped against him, fingers fumbling with his belt buckle. "I chose you because you’re good-looking," she slurred, breath hot against his neck. "And you look like you know your way with women."

Archie grabbed her wrists, stopping her. "What are you talking about?"

Her voice dropped to a whisper, desperate. "I need you."

His frown deepened. Then he saw it—the unnatural glaze in her eyes, the way her pupils were too wide, too unfocused. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

She hadn’t just been drunk.

She’d been drugged.

And those men had been planning to take full advantage of it.

A cold fury settled in his chest. What was it with her and attracting predators? Had the last incident—where he’d put six men in the ground for daring to touch her—not been enough of a warning? Now here she was again, drugged out of her mind, her body burning with whatever they’d slipped into her drink, and she was clinging to him*l like he was the answer to her problem.

Because, apparently, he was the "hottest available option."

The absurdity of it almost made him laugh.

Instead, he flipped their positions in one swift motion, pinning her back against the wall as he loomed over her. His voice was low, controlled. "Ava. I need you to think. Who drugged you?"

She blinked up at him, confusion flickering across her face before she shook her head weakly. "No one."

Archie’s jaw clenched.

She didn’t remember.

Which meant she had no idea what was happening to her.

And he was the only one standing between her and disaster, when he was the last person who should be in that position.

Archie cupped her face, bringing her close, but when she leaned in to kiss him, he stopped her with a firm hand. She frowned, frustration flashing in her glazed eyes.

"I need you to answer me," he said, voice low. "Who drugged you?"

Avery huffed. "What is this, an interview? Are you gonna help me or not?"

His grip on her jaw tightened slightly as he studied her face. The flush on her cheeks, the way her pupils swallowed nearly all the color in her eyes further confirming that this wasn’t just alcohol. This was something stronger, something dangerous.

"I can help you," he said carefully. "Maybe not the way you want, but I will help you. Judging by what I’m seeing, this isn’t some ordinary aphrodisiac. I need to know who gave it to you so I can find out what exactly were the components of the drug they used and get you the right relief."

Avery rolled her eyes, clearly not listening. Her hands dropped to his belt again, fingers fumbling with the buckle.

Archie caught her wrists, forcing them away. "I can’t do this," he ground out. "Not when you’re drunk. Not when you’re drugged. And definitely not when you’ll wake up tomorrow and castrate me for taking advantage of you in a weak state."

Rolling her eyes, she opened her mouth to argue, but then her expression twisted into annoyance. "So? Are you helping me or not?"

When Archie didn’t immediately respond, she shoved away from him, stumbling back toward the club.

His hand shot out, catching her arm. "Where the hell do you think you’re going?"

"To find someone else," she snapped, trying to yank free. "Since you won’t help me! Or should I say since you’re too scared to help me!"

Archie pulled her back roughly. "You’re not throwing yourself at another man just because I won’t fuck you in an alley, back hallway or wherever the fuck this place is!"

She struggled against him, her strength surprisingly increased, showing another side effect of whatever she’d been given. And that’s when Archie made a decision.

He hadn’t told anyone he was coming here. He couldn’t hand her over to her family like this. He didn’t even want anyone else to see her in this state apart from him.

Which meant he had to handle this himself.

Even if it meant fighting every instinct in his body to not give her what she so desperately wanted... when he wanted it too.

He pulled her into a tight embrace, hands smoothing down her back before sliding up again. "I will help you," he murmured against her ear, then pressed a kiss there. His lips trailed down her neck, slow, deliberate.

Avery melted into him, arms tightening around his shoulders. But while she was distracted, Archie was already guiding her toward the exit.

The moment they stepped outside, the cold night air hit them. She shivered, trying to pull away, but he was quick to catch her chin, tilting her face up and claiming her lips in a deep, searing kiss.

She gasped into his mouth, then leaped into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist as she kissed him back hungrily. Archie let her, though his mind stayed detached, focused on one goal—getting her to the car.

Somehow, he made it there, Avery still clinging to him like a vice. But that was when the next problem became immediately clear—she wouldn’t let go.

He couldn’t pry her off to strap her into the passenger seat. Couldn’t even step back long enough to get behind the wheel. Every time he tried to loosen her grip, she just buried her face in his neck, lips pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against his skin.

Archie’s breath hitched.

This was wrong.

She wasn’t in her right mind. She wouldn’t even remember this tomorrow.

But God, he wanted to give in.

Wanted to pin her against the car and take everything she was offering.

Instead, he forced himself to stay in control.

Even if it meant he was going to suffer for it.

Shaking his head to clear the extremely x-rated thoughts in his thoughts, he gritted his teeth and hardened his resolve, carefully but firmly peeling Avery off him, guiding her into the back seat of the car. He locked the door and walked around to the driver’s side, but before he could get in, he heard a soft whimper from the back—a sound laced with pain, need, and frustration.

He forced himself to ignore it, sliding into the driver’s seat and immediately grabbing his phone. He dialed his doctor, his fingers tight around the device. As the call connected, his gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. Avery was curled up in the back seat, her whimpers growing louder, more desperate.

He cursed under his breath, slamming a fist against the steering wheel as the realization hit him like a punch—he couldn’t just leave her like this. Morals, consequences, what she might say to him later be damned! None of it mattered right now. All he cared about was easing her pain, giving her relief.

She already hated him anyway. If this made her hate him more tomorrow—no matter how much he would detest for that to happen, then so be it. At least she wouldn’t be suffering.

"Mr. Donovan?" The doctor’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Archie exhaled sharply and brought the phone to his ear. "I have someone here. She’s been drugged. Aphrodisiac and something else, I think." He described her symptoms in a clipped, clinical tone, his eyes never leaving the mirror. "Female, 19. Her symptoms include disorientation, she’s stronger than she usually is, and she doesn’t seem to recognize me." His jaw tightened as Avery let out another desperate whimper behind him. "Experiencing severe physical agitation too."

There was a pause on the line before the doctor responded carefully. "Is she conscious? Able to communicate?"