I love Cecily’s bravery—I do—but some people are just not worth risking your life to oppose. Jeremy is at the top of that list.
Annika seems to know that, too, because she subtly pushes Cecily away. “It’s okay. I’ll go back.”
My friend, who obviously has multiple death wishes, shoos her with a hand. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
“I want to, really.” Annika shakes her head and whispers, “It’s not worth it.”
“Walk in front of me, Anoushka.”
Annika bows her head and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”
Then she follows her brother’s command. They’re not two steps away before Cecily fumes, “That bloody misogynistic pig is simply not going to dictate Anni’s life.”
And then my crazy friend follows them.
“I swear to fuck, she’s suicidal,” Ava whispers, then yells, “Wait for me, Ces!”
No, no…
I don’t spare a glance at who I’m left with and attempt to follow after them—girls standing up for girls and all that. Truth is, I’d rather face Jeremy than his psychotic friend.
My head crashes into a wall of muscles and I step backward in shock.
A hand wraps around my elbow, seemingly gentle yet anything but. “Where do you think you’re going?”
I try to pull my elbow free, but he only tightens his hold as a warning.
My gaze strays sideways, hoping to catch the attention of someone familiar, but all the faces have turned blurry, featureless, even.
“It’s useless to find refuge in anyone but me, baby.”
“Screw you. I’m not your baby.”
His free hand reaches out for me and I freeze, thinking he’ll choke me again.
Images of him sneaking into my nightmare, strangling me, then doing unspeakable things to me come crashing down. I don’t want to think about my state when I woke up or where my hand was.
It’s like the time I stroked my neck as I stared at that damn painting I somehow couldn’t vandalize.
However, his fingers seep into my hair gently, lovingly. “Did I mention that your fight is adorable? The way your beautiful eyes war with both fear and determination is a turn-on. I wonder if this is the look I’ll see when you’re writhing underneath me as I stuff your cunt with my cock.”
My lips tremble. I’m still not used to the way he speaks so dirty so casually, but I say, “The only thing you’ll see is your blood as I stab you to death.”
“I don’t mind. Red happens to be my favorite color.” He tips his chin at the red patterns on my shirt. “Your style is cute.”
I don’t want to be cute to this bastard. I don’t want to be anything to him, because his attention?
It’s suffocating.
The only thing I breathe, see, or feel is him. The intoxicating scent, the intimidating physique, and the haunting presence.
“I’ve been thinking,” he muses, still stroking his fingers in my hair with no warmth whatsoever. “Aren’t you going to ask what I’ve been thinking about?”
“Not interested.”
“See, that’s where you do things wrong, Glyndon. If you continue antagonizing me for sport, you’ll only get yourself cut.” His tone holds no threat, not an obvious one, anyway. “As I was saying, I’ve been thinking about the best way to have your lips around my cock again. Are you game?”
“To bite your dick off for real this time? Sure.”
He chuckles, the sound soft, but his touch in my hair is anything but. “Careful. I’m allowing you to push, but don’t mistake my tolerance for acceptance. I’m not a generous man.”
“Shocker.”
“Your stubbornness can be grating, but we’ll smooth it out.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “Go out with me for a ride.”
I stare at him, eyes big, waiting for him to laugh.
He doesn’t.
“Are you serious?”
“Do I seem like the joking type?”
“No, but you must be the delusional type if you think I’ll go anywhere with you.”
“Willingly.”
“What?”
“You won’t go anywhere with me willingly. But I can find ways to drag you out of here and no one will see you.”
“My brother and cousins are up there,” I hiss, searching for them with my gaze.
Come on, Lan, even your craziness is welcome right now.
“They won’t see either,” he says casually. “If I choose to, no one will hear of you again and you’ll be a measly statistic.”
A shudder slashes down my spine because I know, I just know this is no joking matter to him and that if he chooses to, he could and would definitely keep his word.
“Stop it,” I whisper.
“I might consider that when you do what I asked for earlier and go on a ride with me.”
“So you have the green light to do as you threatened? If you actually kidnap me, no one will be the wiser since I went with you on my own feet.”
“That’s true, but I promise to return you safely.”
“Excuse me for not believing you.”
“Hmm.” He strokes the lobe of my ear, back and forth like an eerie lullaby. “What would make you believe me?”
“Nothing.” I breathe harshly, partly because of being in his presence and the fact that he won’t stop freaking touching me. I don’t react well to my sensory world and it shows. “I don’t trust you and never will.”
“As I said, never say never.” His eyes hold mine hostage for a second, two, and I swear I’m going to catch fire by the third. “How about I prove that I keep my word?”
“How the hell would you do that?”
“I’ll win this upcoming match for you.”
“Oh, so you’ll beat up Creigh—who happens to be my cousin—to prove a point. What a classic you move.”
“I’ll lose it then,” he says without blinking. “I’ll get beaten up to prove a point.”
My lips fall open, but I quickly recuperate. “I don’t want that.”
“That’s what you’ll get.” He brushes my hair again. “And you’ll watch every moment of it, baby. If you dare leave, I’ll send that cousin of yours into a coma.”
“You…wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
“Why the hell are you doing all of this? Are you…insane?”
“Maybe. After all, insanity, evil, and ruthlessness are boundless and lawless. I’d rather be insane than an ordinary fool.” He leans over and my heart stops beating for a fraction of a second as he kisses the top of my head slowly, gently. “Wait for me, baby.”
And then his touch is gone, and so are the remnants of my fragile sanity.
I can only watch as he rushes through the crowd and heads to the middle of the ring.
GLYNDON
This is crazy.
He’s crazy.
I’ve been well aware of that fact since the first time I met him, but I’m one hundred percent sure now. There’s no doubt about his psychosis.
My fingers clench and I slide them against my shorts, then fish out my phone and tap the number called ‘Emergency.’
It rings once. Twice.
And then he picks up with a half-sleeping voice. “Hello? Glyndon?” The older male voice speaks with its usual warmth. “Are you there?”
“Um, yeah. Sorry if I woke you up.”
“No, I was just watching TV and dozed off. Where are you? It sounds noisy.”
“I’m outside with friends.” I kick an imaginary pebble. “It’s coming back, Dr. Ferrell. I can’t… I can’t control it anymore.”
“That’s okay. Breathe.” His voice sobers up, sounding soothing like that first time Mum took me to him at my request.
Ever since my early teens, I suffered with a huge inferiority complex and I couldn’t survive in our household without the need to do something nefarious.
It didn’t matter how much my parents tried to talk to me, I always found a way to escape into my own head and block them out.
Which is where Dr. Ferrell came in. I was too hesitant to talk to my family, but I could pour my heart out to a professional. He taught me how to recognize when I’m overwhelmed, to talk about it instead of burying it, to paint it instead of letting it rip me from the inside out.
But I don’t have my brush and canvas now, so I could only call him. This late. Like a creep.
“What made it come back?” he asks after a moment.
“I don’t know. Everything?”
“Does this concern Devlin?”
“Yes and no. I don’t like people living their lives as if Devlin was never a part of it. I don’t like how they tiptoe around his name as if he was never there, or how they’re even starting rumors about his weird tendencies. I was his only friend, I knew him best, I could defend him best, but the moment I want to talk, my tongue gets tied up and I start hyperventilating. I hate it, this, them, the fact that they erased him as if he never existed.” A tear cascades down my cheek. “He said it would happen, that he and I would be forgotten, and I think…maybe…maybe that’s true.”
“We agreed not to go there, Glyndon. Devlin was loved by you and he’s remembered by you.”
“But that’s not enough.”
“I’m sure it is for him.”
A long breath whooshes out of me, letting his words sink in. Right. The world never understood Dev, so why should he be remembered by them?
I’m enough.
“Can you tell me the reason behind the trigger of your emotions?”
I rub my palm against my shorts and stare at the crowd where that psycho disappeared. He’s not even in sight anymore, and yet, he’s, without doubt, the reason every stone I carefully laid inside me is tumbling down.
Or at least, he’s the drop that made the cup overflow.
But I can’t tell Dr. Ferrell about that, because he’ll read into everything prior to tonight, and I’m just not ready to let it all out.
Maybe he’ll judge me for keeping it a secret.
Maybe he’ll know the actual reason why I’m keeping it a secret.
So I change direction. “I got a weird text.”
“Of what nature?”
“Someone who keeps telling me that I should’ve had the same fate as Dev and to watch my back.”
“Did their tone sound threatening?”
“It’s weird, but no. I guess my feelings are all over the place if I don’t see what they said as threatening.”
“You have every right to be that way. Don’t beat yourself up for it. And if those texts change in nature, promise you’ll let me know and report it.”
“I promise.”
The crowd buzzes with energy, some people jumping up and down to get a view of the ring.
“I gotta go, Dr. Ferrell. And thanks for listening to me.”
“Anytime.”
I hang up absentmindedly as I focus on the uproar of the crowd.
The students from REU go crazy as Creigh jumps into the ring. He’s wearing white shorts, no shirt, and his hands are wrapped in bandages.
“Go get ’em, spawn!” Remi shouts from the sidelines. “Show them what my lordship raised.”
Landon gives our cousin an ‘I’m watching you’ look from the booth above, most likely telling him that he bet on him. He’s surrounded by a few guys and girls, probably from his stupid club, Elites.
Eli is nowhere to be found, though.
My eyes automatically slip to the other side. On the sidelines stands a huge, heavily intimidating tattooed guy who I think is rumored to run in the same circles as Jeremy. He’s wearing a flashy black satin robe and jumping in place as he punches the air.
I frown. I thought Killian was going to fight Creigh, not someone else. But maybe he changed his mind, after all.
It’s impossible to imagine someone like him willingly losing anything anyway.
“Phew! I didn’t miss the big fight.” Ava slides in beside me, pushing a few rebel blonde hairs away from her eyes.
I search behind her. “Where’s Ces?”
“With Annika in obligatory confinement at the dormitory. She didn’t have to stay with her, but she was like, fuck Jeremy—I know, she really wants to die young—and kept Anni company.” Ava exhales. “That chap is scary as fuck and he doesn’t have to talk to relay it. Just his icy stare is enough. He even has guards and full-on security on freaking campus. I didn’t believe Anni could be anything but the prettiest doll alive, but she’s a mafia princess, after all.”
“Are you sure they’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. He won’t actually hurt his sister. He’s just being overprotective.”
“Cecily isn’t his sister, though.”
“No, but she has balls bigger than his guards. Don’t worry about her.” She throws up a dismissive hand. “Now, what did I miss?”
“The other player is about to get in.” I tilt my head toward the one covered with a satin robe.
“O.M.G. Nikolai Sokolov?”
“You know him?”
“Everyone on campus but you does.” She rolls her eyes. “I have to educate you on everything, I swear. What would you do without me?”
“Flounder in ignorance?”
“Exactly. So you should be thankful. Listen up. So Nikolai is one of the Heathens’ founding members and The King’s U’s rulers. See all those muscles and tattoos? They’re real. This is where you can judge a book by its cover, because Nikolai has an infamous knack for violence. All those bodies that are rumored to have been thrown in the sea? He’s the one who chopped them up. You know how Jeremy is called The Overlord? Nikolai is The Punisher. He’s like their human weapon.”
My blood goes icy. The more I hear about the Heathens, the more I dislike them. “And should Creigh fight a human weapon?”
“He’ll be fine. Cray Cray is a tough devil and our reigning champion. No human weapon will stop him.”
“Still, that guy looks thirsty for blood.”
“That’s because he is.” She searches her surroundings, then leans over and whispers, “He’s in the mafia, too. Like Jeremy.”
“Really?”
“Totally. Like, you know, even his name, Nikolai Sokolov, is actually the same as his great-grandfather who was the founder and ruler of the New York Bratva. And now, both his parents are leaders there. He and Jeremy are ruthless mobsters in the making.”
“And how do you know all of this?” I don’t know why I whisper back.
“Everyone does.” She pulls away. “And Anni gave me inside intel because she’s sweet like that and she’s been around them her whole life. So I’m like an expert on The King’s U’s inner circle now—or more like the Heathens. Serpents are a mystery.”
“And that’s something to be proud of?”