Chapter 19 #2
I gently rub the reminder of my time with them.
The faint scar across my throat and the burns etched onto my face.
Some nights when I close my eyes, I can feel it all over again.
My gasps for oxygen, begging my lungs to work.
My incessant pleas cut off while they silently watch me dying on my knees, begging them to help me.
But they never did.
Every piece of this old building holds something special to me. Or maybe it shouldn’t be so meaningful to me. They hurt me. Betrayed me. So, why must my mind go back to the simpler times?
It’s hard not to look back with fondness on the boys who shaped my childhood and teenage years.
The first loves of my life. Then, I remember the night they brutally ended me.
Us. Our ending was so reckless. Filled with blood, tears, and death.
I was the person they promised to hold close to their chests and keep away from the bad.
They were the bad. The worst of the worst.
And I never saw it coming.
They’ve tainted this space with their filth. Their violence and cruelty. Overshadowing the love these walls once saw.
The echoes are just that. Echoes. Nothing more. Nothing special. At least, not anymore.
They can’t mean anything to me. Not now. They’re like the tainted echoes—nothing. A job. Men I have to watch and get close to so I can close this case and move on with my life once and for all.
After they betrayed me, I thought seeing them again would help me move on.
Resolve the treachery swirling in my mind.
Hell, maybe I could even forgive them for what they did to me.
Or at least, get them out of my head. Being here, though.
It’s doing nothing but stirring up old feelings, broken trust, and vengeance.
The roar of the crowd taking up every inch of the Coliseum miraculously pulls me from my swirling thoughts. Something that’s been happening a lot since stepping foot in Greenwood. My mind continues to lose itself in what used to be. Instead of living in the now and taking in the people around me.
Blood stains the floors. Old footprints sit in the dirt, scuffed with all the foot traffic.
People mingle in the boisterous crowds, throwing their hands in the air as two men viciously fight in the center of the ring, pounding their fists into each other's faces.
Blood spurts. Grunts ring out. Cheers fill the space again, echoing off the tall stone walls.
I watch in amazement as Simon talks excitedly into my ear, pointing out the fighters, their names, and who they are to this campus. One is undefeated. The other is, too. So, whoever loses, has to lick their wounds under public scrutiny.
“If they lose,” Simon whistles, shaking his head. “It’s almost worse than turning down a fight.”
“Jesus. You guys are ruthless here,” Jordy comments, watching the fight with a sparkle in his eyes. I’m sure if someone called his name, he’d gladly fight. And with no rules, he could thoroughly mess someone up in one punch.
“What happens if they lose?” I wonder aloud as we slowly make our way toward the ring, as the vicious fight continues.
Simon side-eyes me. “Well, for starters—the shame of it all. Losing in front of these blood-thirsty animals?” he snorts.
“These people crave superiority. If they lose, it’s their reputation on the line.
They can get called out more and tested against weaker opponents.
Plus, you can bet on who you want to win.
So, people get mighty upset when their fav loses and costs them money. ”
I wrinkle my nose, eyeing the chanting crowd.
They go wild when the smaller of the two knocks the bigger one back a few staggering steps.
Blood spills from his nose, and he snarls viciously before charging his smaller opponent.
The crowd gasps when the smaller opponent lands another punch, knocking the bigger guy to the ground with a loud thud.
“So, if the big guy loses…”
“Like he is right now,” Jordy smirks.
“Yeah, that. His reputation is ruined?”
“Tainted, at best. If there’s one thing you should know about Greenwood, it's that there’s a weird hierarchy here.
You have the kings of campus.” He quickly gestures to Mack and Hux lounging at the table, watching the fight.
But JJ is nowhere in sight. “And then you have the rest of us peons trying to swim through the chaos.” Simon gets on his toes with a grin, shouting obscenities as the smaller opponent pummels his fists into the bigger one’s face.
Over and over again. He's on top of him, MMA style, knocking his brains out through his ears.
More blood spurts onto the white mat, and every hit thuds.
"Stop!" yells a familiar voice through the speakers, and a person dressed in black and white stripes jumps into the ring, pulling the man off him. "I said back off!" Hux bellows through the speakers.
Everyone stops dead at the seriousness in his voice. Quieting until nothing can be heard but the slap of the referee’s footsteps on the mat and the grunt of the smaller opponent being dragged off the bigger one.
“Oh, no,” Simon murmurs. “Now, that? That’s worse. He’ll be punished for punching after the fight has been called.” He whistles under his breath.
“Punished? I thought there were barely any rules here?” I grumble, watching the fighters closely as they’re taken out of the ring. One unconscious. One barely walking without stumbling forward.
“Officially, there are none. Unofficially…” he trails off, raising his brows.
Of course. There are unofficial rules here that everyone must follow. An etiquette, I assume.
"That's what you get for crossing me, asshole!
" the smaller opponent shouts, spitting blood onto the side as he wobbles down the small set of stairs leading to the ring.
"Come after me or my family again..." He lets the threat hang in the air as he drags a finger across his throat.
But it falls on deaf ears. The other guy is still out and being dragged off toward a set of double doors on a make-shift stretcher.
"What's the story there?" Jordy asks, handing each of us a drink with a grin. I frown at the sight of the beer bottles, and Jordy offers me a discreet shrug, shoving it into my awaiting hand. Fuck. I hate beer so much. But it’s all these places seem to have.
"Seems brutal." He cocks his head, watching the unconscious guy get carted off from the ring and taken through a door. Hopefully, to get checked out.
"Oh, don't worry about him. A whole team of medical students is back there, eager to put their hands on real patients." Simon grins, sipping his beer.
"Medical students? Jesus. What is this college?" Jordy quips, knocking back his beer and chugging it until it’s almost empty. "I'm going to need about fifty more of these."
I snort. "You're a lightweight. How about just one more?" I tease, knocking his shoulder.
"Speak for yourself, Liiverrrrr," he holds out my name, chuckling. "You should see this guy. He can barely hold down three drinks. If you don't watch him, he'll end up in the bathroom with some chick."
My cheeks heat at his words. Asshole. "Fucker," I grunt, punching him straight in the chest with all my might. He stumbles back, cackling at me and shaking his head. "I had a good time."
Speak of the devil himself. Shit. Shivers roll through me at the memory of our time together. Seems like a lifetime ago. But only a week has gone by since I was Olivia and he railed me in the bar bathroom.
Discreetly, I watch him saunter through the crowd—well, him and his shadow—Wilder. A single cigarette rests between his lips. They don’t greet anyone as they come to stand by the bar.
"Oh, Oli. You've got game, then," Simon chuckles, sipping his beer.
I shrug. A few men jump into the ring with black and white shirts, quickly cleaning it and dusting it off. I keep my eyes peeled, hoping my glasses record the events here.
"So, what happens now?" I eye the shifting crowd, moving closer to the ring, while some weave their way out, heading toward the bar. A few men head to a small table in the corner of the room, forming a line.
A desert forms in my mouth when Hux and Mack sit behind the table, talking to the men in front of them.
I swallow a drink of my beer, grimacing at the bitter taste I hate.
But it’s all they have and I’m trying to quench my thirst after seeing the two of them together.
Their presence is overpowering, nearly knocking me back a few steps.
One-on-one, I can take them in small doses without wanting to punch their noses.
But together? The memories invade me more, taking me back to when we were all best friends playing in this very room.
"It depends on if they have more fights scheduled," Simon says, pulling me out of my thoughts. "But it looks like they're taking challenges right now. You know, where you have to fight if you're called out." He shakes his head.
"Have you ever been called out?" Jordy asks, downing the rest of his drink.
"No, thank the skies fucking above," Simon huffs, eyeing the ceiling with relief. "I'd probably be on the wall of shame and shamed out of parties. I'd run like my ass was on fire. Simon? Simon who?" he chortles, sipping his beer again. "The last place you ever want to be is in that ring."
I shiver at the thought. Getting called into the ring wouldn't be the worst-case scenario, but it wouldn't be good for me. Most of the men who get into the ring have removed their shirts and jeans, opting to fight in loose gym shorts and nothing else.
Jordy and Simon flirt uncontrollably with one another.
I don't think I'll be the one hooking up with a guy in the damn bathroom.
With the way Jordy is batting his eyelashes and moving in closer to Simon—I'm going to need earplugs tonight.
Shit. I don't think I have any. I'll have to go to the store and. ..
"Oliver Davenport!"
Ringing forms in my ears, like I’m deep underwater. I can barely hear the crowd's murmurs as they look around with excitement, waiting for Oliver to step forward and claim his fight. Their eyes peer around with anticipation.
Every muscle in my body coils tight. Run away. Go now! They’ll never know you were here.
"What the fuck," Simon gasps, looking at me slack-jawed.
"Oliver," Jordy hisses, shaking my shoulders and getting my attention. Looking deep into my eyes, he gestures toward the ring. "You've been summoned."
I rear back slightly. "No, wait. I..." Can't fucking fight these people. My throat closes as my heart spikes in my chest, beating a frantic tune to the panic swirling in my mind.
"You can say no," Simon whispers. "I won't hold it against you. We can hang out in the dorm, eat chocolates, and emerge in a month. Just no party tomorrow… or next weekend. Or..." he huffs, slumping his shoulders.
"I..." I swallow hard when they call my name again.
"Please come to the back table!" Hux shouts impatiently while I internally freak out that I have to get in front of all these people and fight.