Chapter 12
SCARLETT
“Those are hot.” Sawyer muses from beside me.
I roll my eyes. “Tattoos are not hot.” Said no one ever.
I’m a sucker for a guy with tattoos, but ever since seeing Cross shirtless in his gym, I’ve changed my mind.
Sawyer scoffs and snaps her head over to gawk at me. “Said who?”
I look away from the movie playing on her laptop screen and shrug.
“Don’t tell me.” She stuffs some popcorn into her mouth. “You’re into those nerdy guys. The ones with glasses who spend their mornings checking on the stock market.”
No.
“What’s wrong with that?” I ask.
She sighs and goes back to watching the movie. “Nothing…” She pauses. “Just sounds boringggg.”
I click my phone off because somehow I’ve ended up on Cross’s social media profile. There’s nothing important on there, like an explanation of why I found him training in some dark, smelly gym.
I’d only found him there because after trying to hunt him down to give him the homework he blackmailed me into doing, I ran into one of his lacrosse teammates, who gave me the address to the gym.
He didn’t tell me what kind of gym it was, and silly me to think he’d be running on a treadmill or lifting weights.
Instead, he was bare-chested and sweaty with his knuckles taped. My stomach flipped as I scanned every single toned muscle, and with the tattoos? How could I not stare?
I admit that Cross has sex appeal, but the moment he opens his mouth to insult me, I suddenly hate everything about him.
One thing is for sure, Cross is the furthest thing from boring. When our eyes meet, my body heats. Whether that’s from anger or something else, I don’t know.
“Boring is just what I need,” I say.
Sawyer pauses the movie and turns all the way toward me on her bed. “As your only friend here, I think it’s my duty to introduce you to a life of excitement.”
I make a noise of sarcasm. “I had plenty of excitement at Yale.”
Her eyebrows furrow. “I think that’s an oxymoron.”
“Don’t diss the intelligent guys,” I say, half-joking. “They can be exciting too.”
A memory tries to slip in, reminding me of the last thing I did at Yale that was exciting, but I quickly block it and hop to my feet to stand on her fuzzy rug.
“Fine.” I cross my arms. “What do you have in mind?”
Sawyer scrambles off her bed, and popcorn flies into the air and lands at our feet. She rushes over to her desk and comes back with a torn flyer in her hand. “This.”
I hesitantly take the paper from her and scan its contents.
The Inner Ring - INVITE ONLY
Location disclosed after RSVP / Must have password for entry
I make a face. “Sex parties aren’t my thing…”
Sawyer looks at me as if I’ve grown three heads. “It’s not a sex party!” She snatches the paper from me. “It’s a fight.”
My interest piques. “A fight?”
She nods with a thrill in her eye. “Cage-fighting. It’s a thing here at Shadow Valley, and I got an invite.”
I eye her suspiciously. “By who?”
“Some guy in my calc class, and you’re never going to believe who’s fighting.”
Oh, I think I can.
“My stepbrother?” I say, deadpan.
“You knew?”
I shake my head. “Not exactly, but I saw some bruises, and then I ended up having to meet him at the gym to give him something, and I put two and two together.”
Her mouth curves. “Do you wanna go? Maybe you’ll get lucky and see him get his lights punched out.”
The thought of showing up to his secret fight makes me far too excited.
“He’ll kill me if I show up…” I say.
Sawyer’s shoulders drop with disappointment. She heads for her bed, but I put my arm out to stop her.
When our eyes meet, I smile maliciously. “Which is all the more reason to go.”
The stuffy basement of an abandoned building on the outskirts of town is full of college students from all over, and it sends nerves skittering across my skin.
I’m hesitant to walk any farther into the crowd, especially because they took our phones at the door, but with Sawyer pulling on my wrist, I have no choice but to follow.
It’s like stepping into a brand-new world.
The music thumps so loud it vibrates my chest. The only light is centered over the make-shift ring in the middle of the floor. Bodyguards much older than your typical college student stand guard, making sure the spectators don’t come too close to the fight already occurring.
I reach up on my tiptoes to get a better look.
The energy buzzes when one of the guys–definitely not my stepbrother–lands a right hook to another guy’s face. His head snaps to the right, and spit flies through the air.
“How’s this for exciting?” Sawyer shouts into my ear.
A nervous laugh works itself up out of my chest as the scene unfolds. The two guys land punches back and forth, both of them with sweat dripping down their faces, landing on their bare chests.
It’s like UFC gone rogue, and I hate to admit it, but it is exciting.
The crowd is in a trance, and when I look over at Sawyer, she’s zeroed in on the fight too. Flickering lights wash against her face, her eyes glittering with excitement.
The only reason I’m here is to piss Cross off and to get some dirt on him like he has on me, but without my phone, it’ll be hard to prove his double life to our parents. There is no way they’re aware, and who's to say he’ll even spot me in the crowd?
It’s packed.
Just how many college students are aware of this exclusive, invite-only fight? It seems like the entire school is here, plus more.
I can’t help but wonder why Cross is here to fight.
Is it just a hobby?
Is it for money?
Is lacrosse not enough of a workout for him?
What would his mom think if she knew?
My lip curves into a devious smile. Even without my phone for proof, we both have something on each other now.
A ringing clamors throughout, signaling the end to the fight. Everyone claps and yells at the top of their lungs. Some guys exchange money up ahead, and there are a few girls that lift their shirts to show off their boobs.
My eyebrows lift with surprise, and I laugh quietly. Wow.
“I knew it!” Sawyer’s hands fall to my shoulders. She smiles widely.
“Knew what?” I shout over the noise.
“I knew you had a wild streak. You’re totally in your element!”
I shake my head and laugh again. “I’m just picturing Cross’s face when he sees me mid-fight. This is what we call blackmail, babe.”
Something he’s familiar with.
“Is he up next?” I ask, rising to my tiptoes again.
I hope I didn’t miss it—for no other reason than to make him angry, of course.
Sawyer lifts a brow and leans in closer to my ear. “I think blackmail is the last thing that’s going to be on his mind when he sees you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“You’re hot, Scarlett. He’s going to be hating the fact that his stepsister turns him on, is more like it.”
I jerk backward and bump into a guy behind me. I mumble an apology and turn back around toward Sawyer. “That is not true,” I hiss into her ear.
She shouts through a smile, “Whatever!”
Two drinks appear in front of our faces, and we take them, though I don’t dare take a sip. As soon as Sawyer puts it up to her lips, I reach over and wrap my fingers around her wrist. She glances at me, and I shake my head. She squints with confusion but listens anyway.
Good girl. Never take an opened drink from someone you don’t know.
The basement suddenly goes dark.
I gasp, my fingers tightening around my cup.
A voice booms over the speakers. “Are you ready for the most anticipated fight of the evening?”
The crowd is deafening.
Anticipation rushes through my veins, but I’m on edge. My chest heaves, desperate for oxygen or some type of lifeline.
So many people surround me, most of whom I’ve never even seen before, but I’ve been in crowds before. I can do this.
This isn’t Yale, and I’m completely sober.
It’s fine–
Suddenly, an arm wraps around my waist, and a hand goes to my mouth to muffle my scream. I’m pulled away from Sawyer, though she probably has no idea because it’s pitch black.
The sound of a door opens, and I’m quickly shoved inside from behind. My cup falls to the floor, and the sticky liquid spills all over my shoes. I spin around when a light comes on, the buzzing pulling my attention to the single lightbulb above my head.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Relief has my knees buckling.
If you would’ve told me an hour ago that I’d be relieved to see my stepbrother, I wouldn’t have believed you, but here we are. Sweaty, flushed skin, knuckles taped with a look that could kill.
I cross my arms against my sweater and shift on my feet. Cross runs his gaze down my body, his lip snarling when he drags it back to my face. “You look like a slut.”
My jaw falls. “I’m wearing more clothing than ninety percent of the girls here!”
A black sweater and ripped jeans with fish-net stockings underneath because Sawyer practically begged me to wear them. I do not look like a slut!
Cross advances on me. I step backward until I collide with the wall, and his hand finds its way to my throat. His thumb grips me below my jaw while his pinky rests against my collarbone. He doesn’t squeeze hard, but he could if he wanted to.
“Go home,” he hisses.
I should be afraid, all alone with him in this musty, empty room, but gazing up into his warm, brown eyes has me feeling strangely calm.
“Or what? You’ll show my daddy the dirt you have on me?”
His eyes narrow. “I could.”
My mouth curves into a smile, pulling Cross’s eyes right to it.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I taunt. “Because now I know your dirty little secret too.”
He scoffs, his hot seedy breath brushing against my face. “You have no proof.”
I open my mouth to argue, but our attention is pulled to a door opposite of the one Cross pushed me through.
It’s Tyler.
“Bro, you gotta get in the ring. They’re about to flick the lights back on.”
Cross squeezes my neck briefly then drops his hand and steps away. I gasp slightly and stumble forward on shaky legs. I regain my balance quickly while Cross stomps toward his friend. He grips Tyler’s arm tightly, whispers something in a low voice, and then disappears.
Tyler and I make eye contact across the empty space, his lips flat with annoyance.
I send him a dirty look and flip my hair over my shoulder. I open the door I was forcefully shoved through and am met with the backs of everyone in the crowd. All their attention is on the illuminated cage.
I thankfully find my way back to Sawyer before they really start to get amped up.
“Where were you?” she shouts, eyes filled with concern.
As soon as I open my mouth to answer her, I’m saved by a wave of cheers.
Cross’s name is announced, and it’s as clear as glass that my stepbrother is well known around here.
My attention is immediately drawn to Cross’s flickering muscles and the tattoos that cover them. He hops up and down a few times on agile feet and pops his neck, seemingly laser-focused on the guy opposite of him.
I immediately pull my gaze away, annoyed that I find him so attractive, and land on his opponent.
Maybe he’s hotter.
I gasp.
The blood drains from my face, and my vision tunnels, the outer area darkening. The ringing in my ears is the only thing that keeps me grounded as I stare into the cage at the one person who makes my skin crawl with fear.
Nicholas Thomson, the sole reason I left Yale, is standing opposite of my stepbrother, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.