Chapter 28 Mack #3
"You like attacking from behind firewalls and dismantling shit that way.
That's your fun, Bro. I'd rather cause bleeding and the loss of life.
" Maybe not so much the loss of life. They can live.
But I'll make them regret ever stepping foot here in Greenwood.
More specifically, in this graveyard. And the best part? They won't see it coming.
JJ sighs. "Do we need to organize another fight?"
Aw, he knows me so well.
"You could have a fight set for every night of the week, and it wouldn't satisfy this.
.." I tap a hand over my chest. Nothing satisfies my need for revenge.
Especially since Livy was taken so cruelly away from us.
One second, she was here laughing, and the next.
.. I ball my fingers into fists, throwing my beer bottle against a tree.
"Mack," JJ grits out.
"I'll send a fucking pledge to clean it up," I grunt, rolling my shoulders back.
A few of our frat brothers look in our direction, their black shirts giving them away. They understand immediately when their gazes drift toward the shards of glass lying in the grass. Oops. That's my bad. I'm not someone who believes in littering, but my rage got the best of me.
Maybe another fight so soon isn't such a bad idea.
I snap my fingers in the air as one of our frat brothers runs forward. He's still trying to prove himself to us so he can win Franco's favor in the future. Fucking sucker.
"Clean that shit up," I say, lifting my nose in the air.
"Yes, Sir." His face scrunches when he says those words, but he's a good boy, jogging off toward a trash can and dragging it forward.
"Looking for another fight, Macky?"
My shoulders tense at the sound of his voice mocking me.
Malic the goddamn maniac. What the fuck is he doing here?
And how did he and my brother get into the party?
It's not a place for them. They're the enemy, working for some mysterious asshole who never does his own work.
I don't think anyone has ever seen the guy before.
Probably not even Malic, who happens to have a boner for the guy.
"Oh, if it isn't Maniac and his peon," I quip, cracking my neck. "Back to ask me for a rematch?"
It's awfully cocky of me, but whatever. Cocky and me go hand in hand.
Wilder won. Malic almost beat Hux, but it was a draw.
He got lucky there. Hux is aching to beat his ass again in the rematch they're going to discuss at a later date.
Or, probably tonight, with the way Huxley emerges from the shadows and hustles in our direction.
Where the fuck has he been? Probably hiding from Amanda.
"You mean you want to lose again?" my brother asks with a slight smirk on his stupid face.
I don't know why he hates me so goddamn much, but the feeling is mutual. We used to be tight and then bam! He hated me and showed it. So, I returned the favor. Gonna hate me? Well, I’ll hate you too, big bro.
"How're you at this party, anyway? Aren't you breaking the rules? You're a pariah now, Loser."
Right. Pariah status if you lose a fight.
Too bad we're the ones who came up with the rules.
Ha. Ha. Haaaa. The Coliseum is ours, anyway.
Of course, anyone can call out anyone for a fight on the SlamApp.
Or in person. Like we did with that Oliver guy.
Poor idiot. I hope he learned his lesson and doesn't come sniffing around again. He's not welcome in my book.
The others might have something different to say. They were mighty impressed. But not me.
Maybe, next time, I should call him out directly.
"I invented the rules, asshole. So, no. This is my party, anyway." I spread my hands, gesturing to the raging party. No chance in hell would I walk away from this all because I lost. Besides, the partygoers are here for the three of us. Not anyone else. They want to be in our gang. Not these guys’.
"So, because you invented them, you can't stand by them?
" my stupid brother asks with a cigarette between his lips.
Not lit, though. He doesn't do that shit.
Not anymore. He has it with him everywhere he goes.
For some reason. Whatever. I don't give a shit about him.
Or his stupid habits. He hates me. I hate him.
Can I punch him in the face yet and make him bleed? Again?
"Oh, I stand by them for everyone else." I grin, to piss him off.
It seems to do the trick. Wilder's jaw tics. His beady eyes narrow in on me as his fingers curl into fists. That's right. Hit me. Strike me down right here in front of everyone so they can see how unfairly you fight. I'll prove to everyone that Jackson Wilder is a joke.
"You're a sore loser, Macky," Malic says with that unusual grin.
He pats me on the shoulder a few times. "And an idiot.
" His eyes scan the party, and he slumps with some sort of disappointment.
"When you realize what you did, you might cry." He chuckles at that, releasing my shoulder. “And I can’t wait to see that. I’ll bring the popcorn!”
Me? Cry? Not in front of them. I'm not ashamed to say I cry from time to time.
It's healthy. A release. Something everyone should do to regulate their emotions.
Especially that fucker Hux. He's so pent up that he looks constipated.
Hmmm. Maybe he needs some chocolate laxative brownies.
Again. That'll slow him down and take that expression off his face.
Yeah, yeah. That's what I'll do, whenever I have the damn time.
I smirk at the thought and then realize where I am and who I’m with.
I step out of Malic's reach. "Don't touch me again. Unless it's in the ring."
"Oh, is that a call out?" Malic asks, leaning in slowly. "Because I'd take you up on that. Your brother beat you. I can murder you in the ring."
I grin. "Bring it, Maniac." I snort out his nickname. The one everyone shouts when he steps into the ring. He goes from nonchalant to this crazy fucker. But I'm all for crazy. The more there is, the more blood that's spilled.
"Damn it, Malic," Wilder mumbles, pulling the big guy back with a huff.
Right. He's his keeper. Just like he is with our mom. Her keeper. He's in everyone's business and hasn't learned how to mind his own damn business. Fucker. He even shoved our mom in a home, which she deserves. I don’t know why Wilder constantly takes care of her. She never did the same for us. Franco was the only adult in my entire fucking life to take me in, feed me, put me to bed, and make me feel safe. He may be my prison guard now, holding tight to the reign he has over us, but he’ll never be like my mom’s neglectful ass. At least I have a better chance at life. If only Wilder had come with me back then when I gave him the opportunity, he’d be in a better place.
"You afraid he's going to hurt me? How noble of you," I quip with a snort.
Wilder levels me with that stare. He'd never make a move in public, only in the ring. He has more control over himself than anyone else I've ever known.
"That's not what I'm afraid of," Wilder says, shaking his head. "You're an idiot."
An idiot? That's all he's got for me. I puff out my chest, ready to spout something else, but Malic cuts me off. Asshole.
"You seen your leader? He and I have some fun things to discuss." Malic rubs his hands together menacingly, eyeing the crowds until his eyes light up.
"I'm right here," Hux grits out, stepping up to Malic.
All the rage he's feeling oozes out of him.
Yes. I'll have to take him into the basement to vent out frustrations on the hanging bag.
Bloodied fists, here I come. Hell, maybe Hux will want to do a sparring session.
That would be even better. It'd sate this massive black hole consuming me from the inside out.
Violence is the answer. Always. And forever.
"Oh, goody!" Malic grins so widely that I swear it will split his face open. "How about we schedule that rematch?"
"You got so lucky last time," Hux says, narrowing his eyes at Mal.
"Yup. There won't be a win next time," I say tauntingly.
"Do you ever shut your fucking mouth?" Wilder grits out, stepping up to me like he's changed his mind and has decided that we need to fight again. Right here. Right now.
"Not around you." I want to shout in his face or knock him down a peg, but I don't. Being nose to nose with the brother who hates me has my blood pumping and rage boiling deep inside.
"Leave it for the ring," JJ grunts, pulling me back. "Not here."
"Why not?" Wilder asks, shoving the cigarette behind his ear. "We could make this quick and painless. Show my brother how a real man hits. Again." He cracks his knuckles a few times and loosens his muscles, preparing for a battle. “You still got the bruises lining your face.”
"I've already seen how you hit, Pussy," I grit out, attempting to claw my way out of JJ's hold, but the little fucker is too strong.
"He said leave it, Keeper," Malic pipes up, putting a heavy hand on Wilder's shoulder.
That's right. Let your best friend keep you in line.
"Leave it, man," JJ whispers in my ear. "Another time. Not around other people."
Another time. It's always another time bullshit. I need this now. More than ever. I need people to leave this fucking cemetery and leave me with Livy alone. Her and I need to have some words.
"Fine," I grunt, shrugging JJ off again and stepping back, removing myself from the equation. “Go back to JJ,” I huff to Waffles, who follows me at a slower pace. He cocks his head like he’s listening and turns right back around to sit at JJ’s feet.
If I stand here any longer, I'll punch Wilder just for being here. The frat brother who is cleaning up the glass from my beer bottle blows out a breath when I step away from everyone. He must have been on the edge of his seat, waiting for a fight to happen. Not today, asshole. My friends say no.
I heave a breath as I stand over Livy's grave.
A rock from my run the day before sits on top, shiny and black.
Something that she would have loved if she were still here.
I can almost see the smile on her pristine face.
It brings butterflies to my stomach and rage through my veins.
She should be here. We should have been there for her. ..
I shake my head. Before I can think, I leave it all behind.
Forgetting about my duties for one second in my life.
I just need to breathe. To live. To feel what I'm feeling deep inside.
I want to shout into the trees and let my voice roar to fix the pain festering beneath my flesh.
If I had a choice, I would run away. Run to the tallest mountain, find a cabin, and hide for eternity.
I'd get a new name and face. Like an undercover agent.
Or a ninja. Or something. Fuck. I run my fingers through my hair, pulling at the ends, sucking in several deep breaths meant to calm me.
I squeeze my eyes shut and step through the cemetery's back gate.
The party booms behind me, leaving the remnants of what I once enjoyed.
But I'm no longer that person.
I'm different.
And it all changed the moment the girl I loved stopped breathing, and I watched as her body was lowered into the damn ground.
"Fuck," I grunt, stumbling over my feet and falling forward. My only saving grace is my hands instinctively coming out and cushioning my fall. "Fuck," I groan, lying on my back and staring up at the trees swaying in the wind. The stars aren't viewable from here.
"Help," a muffled voice says from somewhere around me.
I squint my eyes, jolting upright. Some fucker must have stumbled out here from the party.
Idiot. Don't they know ghosts live in these woods, haunting anyone who waltzes through.
Or at least, that's the rumor: Greenwood Cemetery and Hell's Hollow possess the most ghosts in the county.
Not sure if I believe it or not, but I might see a real-life ghost for the first time ever.
Or not.
I stiffen when my eyes adjust to the darkness of the forest. The moon doesn't break through the tops of the trees, leaving me in a dim world.
Only when I'm able to pull my phone out and turn on my flashlight do I see what's happening.
It's not a partygoer dying from alcohol poisoning or a person who just saw a ghost. Nope.
It's a dude, covered in blood, lying on the forest floor.