Chapter 20
"You got this," Jordy grunts, shoving me forward and wrapping an arm around my shoulders to help march me toward the gallows. At least, that’s what it feels like.
He peeks over his shoulder as Simon obliviously follows us through the crowd.
"I swear to God, Liv. Who did you piss off already? " he grits out angrily.
Oh, you know. Mack, Hux, and that fucker Brutus. The fucking kings of campus, apparently. This is just great.
I keep that to myself, though. The last thing I need is getting an earful from Jordy on how I should be lying low and making friends with them. Not enemies. Thanks, Dad. I don’t need that lecture when I’m internally freaking the fuck out.
"No one!" I hiss, shaking my head innocently. "This has disaster written all over it. What if they expect me to take off my shirt and..." My hands fall on my wrapped chest. I can't fight like this. I can’t take off my shirt.
My skin prickles, heating under the glare of the jeering crowd, getting louder by the second. A few laughs ring out mockingly. The air thickens around me. It’s too heavy. Tearing straight through my disguise and seeing me for who I am—Olivia.
I could refuse this fight. Sit it out and take the shame of saying no.
But where does that get me? Nowhere. I’m already on Hux’s radar.
I’m sure he and Mack would find a way to make my life even more miserable.
Fuck. I have to prove myself to them. Make it seem like I’m a good candidate for their club.
There’s no backing out.
No weakness. No hesitation.
I roll my shoulders back, sinking into the feeling of my newly found confidence. Fake it til you make it, is what I always say.
"You obviously have made waves somehow.” No shit, Sherlock.
Thanks for that observation–is what I want to say, but I bite my tongue.
“But maybe this is an opportunity for you to make yourself better known.
It's a part of your job, right?" I hate him.
He's always making sense. I guess that's why he's technically my in-the-field partner.
Usually, we aren't alone on cases. Someone is always nearby investigating something else. Or we work the job together.
My shoulders slump. "Ugh. I guess." It's a necessity that I make myself known to Hux, Mack, and JJ to infiltrate their organization.
Maybe this will bring me closer to being their friend instead of hating me for whatever I did to them on Monday.
I guess it was the poking Hux in the chest for being a dickweed to me.
Or maybe it's for grabbing his girlfriend's wrist in the hallway so she wouldn't poke me anymore.
Nothing provokes me more than some asshole poking me in the chest to get a rise out of me.
Well, mission accomplished. You'll get a rise out of me.
"You have to check in at the table." Simon's long face and pale features have my stomach churning. "But you got this! I believe in you." He doesn't. I can tell by the sadness in his eyes that he thinks I'm going to die a swift death from a fist.
It could happen. I'm not that cocky. But I've been training for five years now to regain my strength and learn how to defend myself. Fighting with Jordy and the other guys at the Veritas bunker.
"I'll be okay," I say, squeezing his shoulder and turning toward the table to face Hux and Mack head-on.
Mack smirks, tossing his shaggy blond locks out his eyes. There’s something there in his gaze. A cockiness I can’t place.
"Well, well, well. It's you again, Oliver fucking Davenport." He folds his arms over his chest. "You here to back off from the fight? Run away like a little bitch who…"
“Fucking, Mack,” Hux growls, almost pushing him out of the way and looking deep into my eyes. It’s weird, sending shivers down my spine. “You…”’
"Oh, I'll fight," I interrupt, leaning forward and placing my palms on the fold-out table, glaring into each of their eyes.
Hux blinks several times, shutting his mouth tight. I don’t know what he was going to say, but whatever it was–it’s too late.
It’s almost too bad it’s not Mack who is fighting. I’d love to show him a thing or two about my skills. Say goodbye to your balls, Macklyn Owens. They’re going to eventually belong to me.
"You will?" Hux asks, rubbing his chin with a displeased frown.
"That's unexpected. You sure you’re up to it?
" He frowns more, taking me in with an intense gaze like he's sizing me up to fight me himself.
An uneasy feeling unfurls in my stomach when he shakes his head, ready to retort something else, but Mack cuts him off.
"I bet you won't last a fucking second," Mack snorts, shaking his head. An easy grin spreads across his lips. "But that's on you. Don't worry, we have trained medical professionals who will help you after the event."
"Who is he fighting?" Jordy asks, stepping up to the table and standing beside me with his chest puffed out. There’s murder on his mind as he gets up close and personal with Mack and Hux. No doubt, he’d stab them both in the heart right now.
Instead, he throws an arm over my shoulders again and tucks me into his side protectively.
"Who the fuck are you?" Hux's teeth clench when his gaze connects with Jordy's, searing through the arm over my shoulders and then examining Jordy’s features. “You don’t belong here.”
"Now, why is that any of your business, big guy?" Jordy asks, cocking his head with a knowing smirk. “I’m here to enjoy the fights. Oliver invited me.” A challenging expression hardens Jordy’s face, and he steps closer to the table and drops his arm from me.
Reading the room, I grab Jordy’s arm and discreetly shake my head.
"It's my business because this is my fight. My fucking kingdom and you’re invading. Maybe I should kick both of you out and stop the fight right now.” Hux raises his brows like he’s gotten something over on us.
"Our fight," Mack huffs, getting to his feet. “Our fucking business.” He glowers at Hux. “And they can’t both leave. He’s been called out.” He tosses a hand in my direction.
"I'm Oliver's cousin.” Jordy shrugs off my arm, stepping back.
“And I want to fight,” I retort, sending Jordy the stank eye.
Even if I’d rather swim with crocodiles and flail like a dying fish than be here in front of these two.
I have to fight. This is mandatory. No matter who they’re pitting me against. I can’t be a fucking pariah.
I’m supposed to become besties with my ex lovers.
How fun.
Fuck. This is escalating quickly. Jordy will be over that table in a matter of seconds, choking the life out of Hux and Mack at the same time and successfully killing them with little effort.
They may run these fights and have experience throwing punches from their lifestyle, but Jordy is a trained assassin.
I’ve seen him drop a guy by flicking his forehead.
It’s nothing new to him. He may not seem like it with his flirty ways, but he was serious about taking them out with his sniper rifle.
“Cousins?” Hux raises a brow, seeming to relax slightly. Only slightly, though. His jaw clenches again as he looks between the two of us and opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
"Enough of this," Mack says. "You're fighting?"
I give a shaky nod. My confirmation. I may die at the hands of my unknown opponent, but I don't have a choice.
If I don't fight, then I can't go to parties.
And theirs is a necessary party to go to.
It's the initiation interest party for their frat.
And I have to be there. So, tonight has to happen.
No matter if I face a guy who could kill me with one blow.
I have my advantages. I'm scrappy as hell.
I can kick out their legs and knock them out with one punch. My petite frame makes me faster.
"You're going to get yourself killed," Hux grits out, slumping in his seat with a look of defeat.
What the hell? Did he want me to run away scared? Why is he so damn concerned about my wellbeing?
"His fucking funeral, bro!" Mack quips, knocking Hux on the shoulder twice.
"You're on in five minutes. There's a locker room over there.
Take everything off and put on a pair of gym shorts.
There's a selection back there. Pick your size.
Then, when your name is called, you're on, asshole.
" He gives me a cocky grin. “Oh, also. Good luck.”
“You’ll fucking need it,” Hux grumbles, running a hand down his face and shaking his head.
"I'm not taking my fucking clothes off," I say, taking a step back. “I’ll wear the shorts, but the shirt stays.”
"Are you forfeiting?" Mack asks with a smirk. "It's no shirt or no fight. The choice is yours.” He looks me up and down. “Are you afraid that we will see just how little muscle you have under those baggy clothes?”
“I’m not fucking afraid,” I bite out, rolling my shoulders back.
"It's fucking fine," Hux grits out. "It'll only slow his ass down. Maybe he'll remember not to put his hands on other people outside of fight nights."
"Dude," Mack groans, glaring at Hux. “Fine. You wear the shirt, it’s an immediate five points off.”
“Fine,” I say, shrugging.
"Just fucking get ready. You got ten minutes," Hux grunts, waving a hand for me to leave his sight.
I release a breath, finally pulling in oxygen for the first time in five minutes. That was close.
"Holy fucking shit," Simon whispers, following behind me and Jordy. "You're really going to fight. If it's something I said. If it’s..." I stop dead, turning to put a hand on his shoulder. His mouth closes, but worry hangs in his gaze.
"Don't worry. I practically grew up with only boys. I can handle myself, okay?" I raise a brow, but it does nothing to ease the worry lines forming on his forehead.
"I don't think I can watch," he murmurs, shaking his head. "But I believe in you! You're better than me, Oli. I would have tucked my tail and run home." His lips form a tense line.