I can’t imagine my days without seeing his face first thing in the morning and that little smile he hides so soon after spotting me.
He rejects me, and I keep going back for more like a junkie who needs a hit of the drug that’s sucking my life dry.
But this can’t go on anymore.
Throwing my phone on the bench, I storm out of the locker room and jog to the ring, where Kill is waiting.
The crowd roars to life as I jump in from between the ropes, wearing nothing but my black shorts, my necklace, and a few bandages.
“Welcome, princess.” Kill flashes me a vicious grin, running a bandaged hand over his naked chest and the band of his red shorts.
“You might want to fuck off, Kill,” I say over the pressure gathering in my head. “I could actually hurt you.”
“Show me what you got, Niko.”
I crack my neck, thankful for having a crazy motherfucker for a cousin. Like Jeremy, he knows how much I need this and will fight me whenever I’m in this fucked-up state of mind.
The referee announces the start of the match. My cousin circles me, but I don’t have time for that shit.
Hurt.
Maim.
Kill.
I pounce and punch him in the face so hard, he reels a few steps back. A collective gasp echoes from the crowd as blood drips on the mat.
My cousin wipes the side of his cut mouth, a bloodied grin slipping through. “That’s it, Niko. Unleash the fucking crazy.”
I pummel him, all thoughts disappearing from my head and replaced by pure, bloody violence.
Kill tries to defend himself and actually lands a few blows, but it’s of no use. I feel no pain in this mode. No fucking remorse or reprieve or the need to press down on the fucking brakes.
The only thing that saves him from me is the referee forcing us back to our corners. And even after that, Jeremy and Gareth jump into the ring and shove me away from him.
Gareth wipes the blood off his brother’s face, but Kill keeps grinning as if I’m not on the verge of murdering him.
Jeremy is also cleaning some of the blood that I didn’t know I had on me, but he has to stay in the ring because I’m not fucking sitting down or staying still.
I can’t.
My feet are moving of their own accord, my mind is racing, and my blood is pumping.
Let me back in there.
Let me back.
Fucking back!
“Niko!” Jeremy shakes my shoulders and I finally look at him through my hazy vision. “Maybe you should leave.”
“Fuck no.”
“You don’t look good, man.” He pauses, the silence punctured by all the fangirls—and fanboys—calling my name. “I don’t know how to describe it, but this is different from your other times. Maybe you should take the pills.”
“Fuck. No.”
“Fuck this, Nikolai.” Jeremy clutches me by the nape, nearly shoving my forehead against his. “I don’t care about the lowlifes you beat up this morning. Fuck those people. Fuck them, okay? But Kill is your cousin. He agreed to this because he saw you were struggling, but you’re beating him to a pulp.”
“He’s fucking enjoying it…”
I trail off when I feel an intense gaze at the back of my head. For a moment, I think Kill is letting his psycho demons loose so they can try to intimidate mine—and fail miserably—but no.
It’s coming from the crowd.
My gaze flits through the undefinable faces, not lingering on any so that I don’t see them as people with bags strapped around their heads.
In a few seconds, my eyes find those intense blue ones.
I’m dreaming.
Fuck.
I’m too far gone to imagine Bran actually coming to the fight club when his brother isn’t involved. Pretty sure he’s allergic to violence, blood, and craziness. Which is why I stayed away today despite how every cell in my body protested at the prospect.
I blink once, but he’s still there, standing out like a sore thumb in his polo shirt, pressed pants, and slicked-back hair.
A dash of dark blue fixates on me and I completely forget that I have to lose him like Dad said.
I have to remove him from my life.
How the fuck will I be able to do that when he looks at me like that? I’m getting fucking hard the more he watches me with undivided attention, his gaze sliding from Jeremy to me.
A leggy blonde taps his shoulder and he cuts eye contact and forces a smile, then she throws herself in his arms. He hugs her back.
My eyes narrow on his hand on her.
Is that the next Clara? She doesn’t look like a Clara type. More sophisticated, happier, and definitely not cheap.
Pretty sure I’ve seen her before, but where…?
Who gives a fuck? He’s using someone else for his stupid public image. God forbid the fucking asshole actually accepts he’s gay or bi or what-the-fuck-ever and gets over his fucking self.
“Nikolai!” Jeremy brings my attention back to him and slaps my cheek with the back of his hand. “Where the fuck did you go, man?”
Somewhere not nice.
“Hey, Jer?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you stop me if I have this crazy idea about killing innocent girls?”