30. Chapter 30
Chapter thirty
Hunter
"A re we all set for tonight?" I ask Perkins.
The man is utterly useless at the best of times, except when it comes to causing a distraction. Or stealing things. I'm not sure how he manages the art of theft so well when he was called 'Butter Fingers' all last season. Seriously, they resemble Twinkies. You'd think having such large fingers would make for steady hands to catch a football, but until this year, it was an ever-loving miracle that he was even first string on the Willowbrook Wolves football team.
After our little encounter with Duchess today, I knew I would have to take charge of things. I'm not sure what's gotten into Rylan and Tai, but clearly, they still want to take a step back with things.
That can't happen.
They will thank me later. Once I can prove that Spencer is nothing more than a snake, it will become apparent that the only reasonable tactic is total destruction. The longer we let those Cedar freaks have any type of power, the harder it will be to regain control.
We're on the verge of a crumbling empire and I'll be damned if I lose everything I worked hard for. Dad agrees as well, and with his blessing, I'm going to make sure tonight is one to remember. It's time to make them fall into line once and for all. I'm tired of this bullshit charade, pretending we're co-existing in peace. It's all an act. The other two might not be able to recognize what's happening in the background, but I can.
People are questioning things—us. Word is filtering down the grapevine, making its way back to parents and alumnus members. The board is demanding answers, and someone even had the nerve to ask Dad if his son was even capable of being in charge. And of course, he's quick to remind me that my status reflects directly back on him.
Rylan and Tai have easily forgotten that even though we earned our place, there's still people who would be happy to see us get burned alive and take our spot. Every decision affects all of us. Which is why I need to do this. I'm saving all of our asses.
"Yep," Perkins confirms, handing the warehouse key back to me. "The new cage looks fire. I wouldn't mind having a go tonight."
Sighing to myself, I pocket the key, hardening my expression. "Maybe next time. I need you on call tonight. And remember—don't breathe a word of this to anyone."
He nods in resignation, but the idiot has no idea what's in store for him if he steps into the ring. His ego wouldn't last two minutes. I've tried to explain to countless people that there's more to fighting than just throwing punches. We need to win the fight card tonight, which means playing smart. I've just finished the list and have to meet up with that guy who follows Bexley around everywhere like a pathetic little puppy dog. We'll exchange lists, taking a copy of the matches and opponents.
Part of me wishes that I was handling this directly with Bexley, but for whatever reason, she's opted out of the meeting.
She can only run for so long though. And now that I've set a trap for her, she'll regret ever stepping into Willowbrook territory.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask for the fifth time.
Rylan alternates between stretching and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Of course. What's wrong, H? Don't trust me to secure a win?"
"You know I do," I retort. "I just figured you'd want to be on the sideline when Spencer fights."
We're in one of the many rooms at the side of the warehouse. I assume it used to be an office judging by the power points and worn-out desk. Fighters use the rooms to get ready before a match. There's three on each side of the warehouse main floor, and we're in the end one of our set, waiting for his fight to begin.
Rylan probably thinks I'm doubting his ability by asking repeatedly. But in foresight, my question extends to a bigger picture.
He just doesn't know it yet.
Tai enters the small room behind me, holding two bottles of beer. He passes me one, grinning at Rylan. "You inspired me, Ry. I placed a bet."
"Odds on me, I hope."
"Nah, I bet against you. Kidding," he adds when Rylan stops bouncing and throws him a death glare.
I'm surprised that Rylan hasn't wagered his own bet. The man has a serious gambling problem. Though, is it a problem if you always win? He's ruthless—always playing the odds and analyzing every possible scenario. It's at the point where he can usually tell you the outcome before something has even begun.
Flicking the top off the beer, I take a swig, leaning against the wall. "You're up against someone called Steele Turner."
"Bexley's fuck buddy," Rylan answers. "We saw him at the beach."
"I thought he looked familiar."
Tai jumps up, sitting on a dusty, abandoned desk. "He's a footballer. I stalked his Facebook profile."
"Even better," Rylan says. "They're my favorite to knock down a peg."
My eyes narrow at his tone. There's something about it that seems… personal?
Neither of them look at me, and I fail to believe that torn up, pale green carpet is that interesting. Tai usually talks all our ears off, but he's quiet too.
I pull out the card details from my back pocket, skimming it for dramatic flare. "Spencer is fighting too, I see."
Waiting for their reaction, I study them both carefully. Rylan's face is the perfect picture image of empty emotion, but his posture fails him. He tenses slightly, quickly recovering by rolling his shoulders as if it's a deliberate move.
"Oh, really?" Tai asks. "I had no idea."
Bullshit. They knew—both of them. I caught them looking at the list when we arrived.
"She's fighting Tamara," I say casually, pretending I'm not catching onto their act. "Not sure Spencer will win this one."
Even I have to admit that when it comes to fighting in the cage, Spencer is lethal. To my knowledge, she's never lost a fight—at least not in recent years. The few times I've witnessed her matches I've been mildly impressed. I can still hate her and respect the hustle. But part of my plan tonight is to bring her down a notch. If she wins, I'll accept it, but Tamara will give her a run for her money. I've personally been coaching her for this very reason.
Thankfully, there's no shortage of footage from previous matches. I studied Duchess' form, her tactics. She's smart—much like Rylan in the ring. The best way to catch her off-guard is to make sure she never knows your next move. That, coupled with Tamara's sheer size, will make it difficult for her.
Our last fighter had the size advantage, but they lacked agility. Tamara is good at both. Our women's volleyball team captain, she's equally strong as she is fast. All we had to do was tweak my strategy. And assuming we stick to the plan, Duchess will be in no position to rush out of here at the end of the night.
We don't want her too injured though. Just enough that she stays back to recover, but still mobile to decline any offers for assistance. She's stubborn, but beside that, I want her to fully be aware of what I'm doing to her—so that she understands the consequences of fucking around.
I'd have her leave in an ambulance if I thought it would end well for us. I just need to get her alone, away from prying eyes. Whether we win this particular fight or not is a bonus. At the end of the night, as long as I have Spencer here by herself, then it's a victory.
"Hamilton?" Rylan asks. "She's good but do you think she'll really beat Bexley?"
And there it is.
Not only has his body language given him away, but now his mind has too. The way he says her name—her first name—normal people wouldn't pick up on it. But it's clear she's gotten to him.
Tai's eyes dart up at Rylan before swinging to me, giving us both a wide grin. "It will be interesting either way."
I shrug. "I wouldn't be surprised if Spencer gets quite hurt. But maybe she'll learn her lesson then. Plus, you taking out that boy-toy of hers will just be salt in the wound."
Pausing, I decide to poke the bear once more for good measure. "I guess they won't be able to fuck for a while."
Rylan's jaw hardens. My suspicions are spot on. If I offered a bet with him right now, to wager that they haven't slept together, I know without a doubt that he'd turn it down.
Because they have.
It's written all over his face. And if that wasn't proof enough, Liv's been stomping around the academy complaining at his lack of attention to her. We're men—simple creatures. If Rylan isn't fucking Liv and has stopped paying attention to her, it means he's drawn to someone else. Who else would have the kind of power to make Rylan turn his back on his oldest friends? I'm sure he means well and believes it isn't causing harm. Normally, I'd probably agree. But in our present situation, we need a strong front, and Rylan has made decisions without us recently. He's protecting her—probably from me—but he's the only one in that little dynamic I give a shit about.
I'm not entirely sure what's up with Tai. Maybe Sophia has wielded her twin leverage on him. There are very few people that Tai will listen to in this world, but she's one of them. And I don't think she'd be appreciative of her brother tormenting her friend. I heard Soph gushing and blabbering on about the dance to Spencer. I also know that she helped instigate some of these heinous acts against us. I'm surprised that Tai hasn't thrown that back at her. But sibling love is a tough nut to crack—or so I've heard. I have no qualms about being an only child.
"I'll see you out there," I finish, kicking off the wall. "Good luck."
Rylan doesn't need luck—not when I've dropped that mental image of Turner and Spencer fucking in his mind. Spencer might be shown some mercy from Tamara, but I can't say the same for her friend . I've been close to Rylan and Tai for so long that I know them better than they know themselves. We've joked about sharing girls before—hell, junior year was a wild time. But sharing someone with a person he hates? He won't let that go. Steele Turner will be lucky if he doesn't leave here in a body bag.
As I join the edge of the growing crowd, I lock my sights on the target across the room. People around me murmur pleasantries, some tapping my shoulder, but I'm laser focused on Spencer. I expected her to be in a changing room, getting ready for her fight. But she's stood on that damn barricade again, towering over the Cedar Heights landfill.
Dressed in skin-tight black shorts and a royal blue sports bra, her torso shakes as she laughs at something. Her eyes are drawn to someone in the crowd, and when people part for a brief second, I realize it's Turner.
It's like the depths of Hell want me to succeed, everything aligning perfectly as I whip my cell out. I lift it high, zooming in and snapping a quick picture of their smiling exchange before the crowd compacts into one giant mess again, blocking him from view. Texting the photo through to Tai, I have no doubt he'll share it with Rylan.
The speakers in the corner suddenly come to life, signaling it's time for the first set of fighters to make their way over. As the crowd cheers with excitement, I head over to my usual seat, sipping my beer as the cage door is closed behind the inaugural match in the new ring.
I should probably feel guilty for deliberately making sure Ry was placed with Turner.
But I don't.