8. Kinsley
KINSLEY
Day one… complete.
My only goal at this very moment is to get the fuck out of this place.
I stuff my things in my backpack in such a rush and without a care that the wrinkles may never come out of my uniform.
But I can’t think of that right now. Edge and Kade weren’t far behind me after I bolted out of class, so I know they’re nearby.
Too close. I put my helmet on, lock down all curiosities, and refrain from seeking him out to steal one last glance at Edge.
For some messed-up reason, it’s equally difficult to ignore him as it is to feel drawn to him.
“Get a fucking grip, Kinsley.” The demand to myself is muffled in my helmet.
I start the engine and kick it into gear.
Weaving through the parking lot until I reach the open, large iron gates, I don’t wait in line to pull out onto the main road.
I slip behind the car at the front and pull onto the road without even looking to see if it’s clear.
A semi coming up fast behind me blows its throaty horn.
I pull hard on the throttle, reeling out the engine before shifting into the next gear.
Tearing away, I’m gone before there’s ever any real danger.
Still, the thrill rockets through me. Adrenaline makes an easy excuse for why my heart is threatening to beat out of my chest.
But if I’m honest with myself, that’s all Edge’s doing.
Twenty minutes later, I pull into the parking lot of Serpent’s Spear Dojo.
Through the window, I see my uncle has a class in session.
Instead of the usual stench of sweat that usually hits me when I enter, pungent perfumes assault and tickle my nose.
The sickly scents of flowers, sweet musk, and fruits blend nauseatingly.
My uncle guides the class of older women in a sequence of punches and kicks.
Most are kicking serious ass. The ones not kicking ass are busy checking out my uncle.
Older guys aren’t my thing, but I guess he's good-looking as far as men go.
He glances in my direction, holds up a hand, and indicates a three and a zero, showing how many minutes they have left in the class. Poor guy has another half hour to get eye-fucked.
I toss my backpack on the floor of the office. Luca texted me just as I left school, saying he had to cancel our training today. By all the sad emoji faces, I know he isn’t happy about it either. Of all days for him not to show really sucks. I need my best friend today.
I stretch to work out the tension in my shoulders and back that has only knotted more as the day went on.
Then I tape my knuckles to minimize the abuse I’m preparing to put them through.
My mind keeps wandering to the guy with stormy eyes.
He warned me he would become my nightmare.
He also made it very clear he won’t go easy on me.
So far, he’s lived up to his word. Shit.
Shit. Shit . I refuse to become one of those girls who turns stupid over some guy. I need to keep my head straight.
There’s no way to prepare for who I would be going up against, but Venom—in particular, Ledger Hunt—will be more of a challenge than I initially thought.
If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not sure what I thought—or if I even thought about it at all.
My ego and overall goal to bring them down clouded everything else.
Either way, it doesn’t matter now. I’ve committed, and I’m not backing out.
I just need to find a way to crack through his asshole exterior.
The collective shout of “Yes, sensei!” and then chatter from the main room signal that the session has ended.
I peek around the corner. A few women gather around my uncle, grinning and giggling like schoolgirls.
Uncle Trey plays along, then eventually walks the last two to the door, locking it behind them. I come out of the office.
“Hey, you,” he says.
“Hey.” The word comes off flatter than a day-old can of leftover soda.
“That good, huh?”
I need to show some enthusiasm, even if it’s a thread, so I use the teasing approach. “Not as good as your skills with the ladies.”
He chuckles. “They’re just women trying to stay in shape.”
“Cougars is the term you’re looking for.” The joking takes my mind off some of the shit I endured today.
He laughs as he folds up one of the mats, propping it in the corner. “So, how was your first day?”
There’s no way I can give him the full load of my new hell. So, I go with the easy way out: lying. “Yeah, it was good. Met a couple of cool people.” I toss Eden in that couple, hoping she’ll come around.
“Good. Glad to hear it. I’m sure each day will get easier.”
“Yeah.” Another lame response and lie.If I listen to any of Edge’s warnings, I just lived my easiest day at Monarch University. Rolling my shoulders and neck, I shake off the tension and all thoughts of the asshole.
Uncle Trey picks up his water bottle and takes a long drink. “What’s your poison today?”
“I’m going to hit the bag for a while.”
He glances around. “Wait, I thought Luca was coming?”
“He had to cancel.”
He shakes his head. “That sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, it does.”
My uncle waves his arms around the empty space. “Well, it looks like you have the place to yourself. So, have at it.”
“Thanks.”
As he saunters off to his office, I don’t miss his over-the-shoulder glance. I get the sense that he knows I’m lying, which kills me, but I can’t let him think I’m having issues already—not on my first day.
I plug in my earbuds and press play on my go-to playlist for practicing.
The music thrashes wildly as I pound the bag with my fists and my feet without mercy.
A few of my knuckles are bloody from where the tape slipped, and the tops of my feet will have bruises, but I still don’t stop.
All the shit that happened today, coming face to face with the son of a bitch who may have been the one to kill my father, his lingering stares that make me feel exposed and weak, his warnings, navigating a new school and classes, was more difficult than I imagined it would be.
Everything slams into me all at once. With each hit, my mind clears a tiny bit more.
Telling Edge to stay away from me probably wasn’t the most brilliant idea, not that he plans to listen, but it was the longest day ever, and I was ready to get out of the Viper’s den.
I need to get close to Edge and earn his trust. But I’m not sure I trust myself when we’re next to one another.
The warmth that coursed through my core when he was near me was unlike anything I’ve felt before.
Even now, just thinking about him, my body reacts, and there’s a visceral need for contact.
It doesn’t help that my mind fucks with me by remembering the titillating way his breath fanned against the side of my neck as he threatened me.
If he kept whispering against my sensitive skin, I could have come right there in the hall in front of everyone.
That alone is fucked up. Since when did I get off on being someone’s submissive? Fuck!
I slam the bag harder, trying to erase any feelings that might hinder my ability to give Venom what they deserve. I’m so caught up in beating the bag that I don’t notice my uncle until he taps me on the shoulder. I tap the earbud to pause the music.
“Hey, kiddo, are you almost done? You’ve been out here for almost an hour.”
I deliver another punch and kick before dropping to my hands and knees, out of breath and completely spent. “Has it been that long?”
He leans against one of the thick wooden pillars. “Yeah. Looks like you had a lot to get out. Anything you want to talk about?”
Talking isn’t one of my strong points. Despite the thousand things weighing me down, hitting bags and screaming feel more natural lately than talking anything out.
What worries me is that if I start screaming, I won’t ever be able to stop, and even when I scream until my throat is raw, everything will be the same as it is now.
My dad will still be dead, my mom will still be drowning in her loss, and I’ll still be hunting down a murderer.
I close my eyes, knowing I can’t let my rage take over.
When I open them, Uncle Trey still stares at me with sadness and concern. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
I nod. “Yeah. Some days are just harder than others.” There, finally a truth.
He doesn’t say anything to smooth over the hurt or tell me the pain will lessen with time, and he doesn’t try to hug me. He simply kneels next to me. We stay there in silence for several minutes. I love him even more for the quiet support.
He and Dad were close once, so I ask him a loaded question that’s plagued me since I first saw my father compete in the underground fights. “Do you think he did it for the money?”
With absolute respect, he looks directly into my eyes. “No. I don’t.” Uncle Trey lets out a deep sigh. “It wasn’t the money that got him. He got hooked on the thrill. And it eventually caught up to him.”
I’m glad Uncle Trey doesn’t believe my father fought for the money. My dad’s companies were always successful, so I don’t think we needed cash. At least, I never felt that we did. However, in families with considerable wealth, there are often a lot of secrets and greed.
“I never thought it was a good idea for your father to fight in the UG. It’s one thing to fight in tournaments and prove your skills there, to be matched and challenged, but it’s completely different when you’re fighting blind.
You don’t know what skills or who you’re going up against. People betting on you as a sport, like you’re some kind of animal…
” He shakes his head. “It goes against our training to respect the art of fighting.”