Chapter 21 #2
"Dude," Jordy says, putting a hand over my shoulders as he leads me back into the locker room. "You good?" he breathes, leading me to the back of the place for privacy. He forcefully sets me on the bench with a huff.
"Define good," I groan, rubbing my jaw. I can tell there's going to be a bruise there.
Jordy sits me on a metal bench, bending to look me in the eyes. He examines me thoroughly, shaking his head. "You could have fucking died," he hisses with worry.
"Um, yeah. I could have died at any fucking time," I groan, rubbing my temple. "I thought you had faith in me?" I raise a brow when his face slightly falls.
"I always have faith in you, Liv. But fuck. It was like watching my baby sister about to meet her end." His eyes widen, shaking his head. “Don’t do that shit again.” Like he could stop me from coming here on my own. I can take these motherfuckers. All at once. Well, maybe that’s a little too cocky for me. But still. I’m a badass woman.
"I'm older than you." I roll my eyes and lean closer. "I didn't really have a choice. Even if he knocked me out. I had to..." I trail off, darting my eyes through the empty locker room. The only sounds come from the far end, which I assume are the medical students eagerly awaiting patients.
"Fuck," Jordy whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know you had to. I know we get into some shit situations, but I think you should stay away from this place." He gives me a pointed look.
"And why is that?"
"Because they're blood thirsty motherfuckers, and you just punched out an undefeated champion who will want revenge." He raises a brow to emphasize his point.
I shrug. "I go wherever the job takes me," I mutter.
"Let me see the damage." Jordy stands tall, waving a hand for me to raise my shirt so he can see where the big oaf got a punch in. "How do your ribs feel?"
"Like shit," I grumble truthfully. Which doesn't fare well for me. They're already aching from his punch, maybe they're deeply bruised or worse, broken. That would make wearing my bindings more difficult.
"Only you would get into this bullshit," he mutters under his breath as I slowly rise from the metal bench. My eyes dart around again when I turn my back to the large open space and stand before Jordy.
"Si is hanging out at the bar. It's just you and me right now." His eyes dart in the same direction. "But who knows for how long. So... show me your tits." He smirks and then grunts when I throw a fist into his arm too quickly for him to step back or block. His smile broadens.
"Stop it," I cringe, lifting my shirt and peeling my binder up, grunting when it attempts to stick to my skin and pushes on my injury.
"Fuck.” I thank the skies for my binder, it does a damn good job of hiding my breasts, but it's so tight it's almost impossible to lift for him to examine my aching ribs.
"Oh, yeah," Jordy hisses, rearing back. "He got you fucking good. This is going to hurt like a motherfucker for a month or so." His eyes lift to mine, concern glistening through them. "Are you going to be okay? Oliver can have an emergency back home."
"I'll be fine," I grunt, shoving my bindings back into place and lowering my shirt before anyone gets a glimpse of what I’m hiding. "Maybe another drink or something?" Seriously, more drinks will help to dull the ache of that brute’s punches. Besides, I need to come to terms with my new reality.
Brutus is going to murder me for knocking him out. Plain and simple. Maybe I should have Jordy plan my actual funeral. One better than my last. With flowers, more tears, and people who actually love me in attendance.
"Liv," he groans, shaking his head, but stops when he sees the serious expression crossing my face. "I can't talk you into returning to your dorm, can I?"
"What are you, my father?" I quip, squaring my shoulders and ignoring the twinge in my ribs. No, scratch that. All over my damn body. Is it possible to already feel like I’ve been hit by a train? I mean, I guess that’s what Brutus is—a damn train.
"It was just a little hit. I'll be fine.
" It hurts like a bitch, but I can tell by the way Jordy is looking at me protectively that he wants to argue, take me to my bed, and force me to rest. That's the thing about unblood brothers, they're really overprotective and compassionate when they aren't being pains in the asses.
My brows furrow when a noise like slamming lockers catches my attention.
"That's our cue," I murmur, nodding toward the sound. “Cover me?” He nods, crossing his arms over his chest and turning on his heels. I know he wants to say more about me sticking around the fights. But I have more recon to do. Not to mention, Malic, Wilder, Hux, and Mack are all fighting each other—I can’t miss that.
Quickly, I get dressed back into my baggy clothes. They’ve become an odd comfort this past week, hiding who I really am. They’re my mask against Greenwood U’s weirdness.
"Well, this was definitely more fun than attempting to find a thief who doesn't want to be found," Jordy murmurs, walking beside me as we slowly make our way through the maze of the locker room.
It still astonishes me that they've developed an entire fighting venue here, fit with power and everything, considering it sits on a hill in the middle of the woods.
I wonder if Franco helped to fund this venture for them and if he makes a profit from their earnings.
"Any leads on that?" I press. He's been very tight-lipped about his case. Only indicating he was after a thief who stole millions of dollars’ worth of paintings from a museum without getting caught.
"Nope. I think they might be a ghost or something.
There's Nada on the surveillance footage. I’m going to have to recruit some newbie agents to come and help me infiltrate whatever they have going on," he says in a low voice, trying to keep it from echoing throughout the room. "Anything on your end?" He eyes me.
I snort, looking around before stopping. "It's weird here, right? Like… the vibe..."
"I saw your notes," he says, leaning in. "About the murder and missing organs?" He whistles lowly.
"Yeah. I think that's the main thing I need to look at and see who the hell is involved. It's weird, right? But also, why isn't the school doing more? The police?" I raise a brow. "I'm still waiting for confirmation from Carter."
Jordy snorts. "That asshole."
We make our way through the locker room, coming to a halt near the doors when they burst open. Wilder and Malic force their way in with deadly expressions on their faces.
Fuck! I duck my head, staring at the floor, despite knowing I’m wearing my colored contacts and glasses.
Something Jordy instantly notices. We aren’t secret agents for nothing.
And Jordy? That man has an eye for the details.
Discreetly, I watch through my lashes as Wilder takes the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and puts it behind his ear.
Wilder brushes past me, only acknowledging me with a nod and grunts when he stops at the gym shorts table and grabs a pair.
Agitation rolls off him, giving me major–fuck off–vibes.
But Malic? I hold my breath when he stops and cocks his head.
Fuck. Run! He’s going to know exactly who you are and ruin your identity.
When I lift my eyes to meet his, an intensity I’ve never experienced before burns right through me.
"Tell me your secrets," he says in a low voice, leaning in to take his fill of my bewildered expression. I’m sure I’m a sight to see right now. Flushed with bruises forming all over my flesh.
"Secrets?" I almost squeak but catch myself before it happens.
A grin bursts across his lips, and his eyes light up.
"Tell me how you knocked that asshole out?
I'm very curious how someone so..." He purses his lips. Those intense blue eyes take me in from head to toe, like he’s memorizing every detail.
"Small, could accomplish something so big.
Maybe I should call you out." He grins at that and then shakes his head. “Nah.”
"Mal," Wilder grunts, causing Mal's eyes to dart toward him, and he frowns. “Leave Oliver alone,” Wilder adds, gesturing to me with a huff.
"I take offense to that," I mutter, cringing when my arm brushes against the bruise on my ribs. I've been numb to pain before. Forced to ignore it when it lights up my nerves, but right now, I'm unable to hold back the hiss.
Malic's eyes light up at the sight of my cringe, and without warning, he pokes my ribs several times. "What the fuck?" I hiss, tossing his massive hands off me. No way will I admit that my nerves lit up under his touch.
He shrugs. "Pain is delightful, isn't it?"
Uh, no, psychopath. Pain is not delightful. It's fucking pain, and it hurts. Especially that.
"Not for me," I say through gritted teeth.
"Malic!" Wilder barks with impatience. “Quit poking the man, for fuck’s sake.” Wilder’s look he sends my way is full of concern, and his gaze asks ‘are you okay?’ I nod without saying words, and his shoulders sag with relief. “Malic…” he trails off impatiently.
"My keeper calls," he sing-songs. "Have a good night, Oliver Davenport." He tilts his head when my fake name leaves his tongue, and he hums. "Until next time." He grins, waltzing over to Wilder and immediately pulling off his shirt.
Fuck.
"We need to leave this locker room," I mutter, pulling Jordy along by the collar of his shirt and slamming through the doors to the packed house of people, waiting for the next fight to start.
Hux passes me with a determined look, followed by Mack on his tail, who abruptly stops beside me. "Did you like that?" he asks, stopping me in my tracks.
God. What is this?! Every psycho stopping me from enjoying a few drinks so I can numb my pain?
"What exactly?" I ask, releasing my grip from Jordy. He adjusts his collar with a frown, glowering at me for messing it up.
"The match?" Mack grins. "Set it up just for you. Although you were supposed to go down." His eyes dart to the empty ring, and anger darts across his eyes. “You lost me a grand in a bet.”
And whose fault is that? Certainly not mine. Asshole.
"Supposed to go down..." I trail off, and realization hits me.
Mack grins. "Fuck with us. We have our ways." He shrugs, shoulder checking me as he makes his way into the locker room.
I wonder if he knows his leader Hux was trying to recruit me to their cause? Probably not, judging by the victorious grin which I would gladly wipe off his stupid face with one punch before he disappears through the lock room doors.
"Prick," Jordy mumbles. "The offer still stands about the murdering, by the way. I'm getting sick and tired of that douchebag and his mouth. I could shove so many things inside of it to make him stop talking…” he trails off, snorting when I whack him on the chest.
“The imagery I didn’t need, thanks.” I roll my eyes and continue walking with or without Jordy on my tail. “Besides, you’ve only had the pleasure of meeting him once.”
"Once is fucking enough, Liv," he grumbles, running a hand down his face. "Seems he has it out for you."
I shrug. "He might. But Hux seems to think I should join their frat."
Jordy cringes. "Be careful around them."
"You think I won't be?" I raise a brow as we weave through the crowds, spying Simon by the bar with three drinks waiting in front of him.
"They're..."
"Dead to me," I hiss. "They..." I lean in further so no one else can hear me.
"Killed me, Jordy. They stood by and..." I run a finger over my throat for dramatic effect.
"They're nothing to me but a fucking job. A means to an end. The quicker I get the fuck out of this town and can return to being Olivia, the fucking better.” I raise a brow to emphasize my point.
Jordy nods a few times. "Okay. I believe you." He doesn't. I can tell by the tone of his voice that he thinks I'm about to spiral down the rabbit hole and they're the center.
But I'm not.
Those three can rot in fucking Hell for what they did to me. In fact, I'm going to make sure they do. One way or another, my old besties are going to wish they had actually murdered me, because I'm about to tie them to this murder if it's the last thing I do.