Asch
The bus stop is empty, both because of the cold and because almost nobody at Dyschord takes the bus. Anyone with any sense would call a rideshare to not freeze their ass off at literal zero degrees, but I’m not interested in wasting that kind of money.
The glass of the bus stop’s cover is covered in salt and dirt. I’m just glad it has the cover at all, letting me sit on the bench without worrying about getting wet. The sidewalk is covered with old, gray snow pushed aside by the snow plows. I had to walk on the street to reach the bus stop.
Maybe the cold dulls that final bit of sense I have, because I’m not paying enough attention to anything but the road.
That’s why the two guys appearing next to me startles me.
They’re wearing coats a bit too light for the weather, with leather gloves and full ski masks.
It’s cold, but no one around here walks around with ski masks.
The only reason to wear one is if someone’s about to do something nefarious, and I tense, on full alert despite the fact that they’re now entirely too close to me.
That’s fine, though. I excel in close quarters, if things go poorly.
“Cold, huh?” I ask, getting up from the bench. Even though I’m itching to get into a defensive stance, I stand casually.
No one would be stupid enough to attack me here.
If Ezio sent goons after me, they’d get to me somewhere more private. They’d break into the house, maybe, or they’d confront me in the tunnels. This is entirely too public.
I don’t relax, though.
Just in case I’m wrong.
The two guys share a look, then the one closer to me lunges forward to grab me by my coat.
Yeah, I was wrong, but not unprepared, and I quickly step out of his reach. I grab the zipper on my coat and yank it down. If they get a hold of it, I need to be able to shrug out of it easily.
The time I spend doing that gives them time to get in close quarters again, and I take a punch to the side. It’s cushioned by the thick coat—ridiculously thick, Pandora had told me, but she’d grown up where it’s cold—and I don’t even feel it.
If they really wanted to hurt me, they should’ve gone for my face.
The coat might offer padding, but it’s also limiting my movements. I can’t punch as easily as I normally can.
It’s way, way too cold to not wear a coat though.
“Hold fucking still,” the one guy says, rushing towards me. I have to step onto the street to evade him, and I hope the traction of my boots can deal with all the wetness. I don’t want to fall face first onto hard, salt-and-grime-covered concrete.
The second guy gets close to me, arms up in a sloppy boxing stance. “We know it was Blaze’s girlfriend who did it. Which of you helped her?”
I’m too distracted by the familiarity of their voices to figure out what they’re talking about at first, and they don’t give me much time to think it through.
As I throw a measuring punch of my own at the taller of the two, I realize I know both of these fuckers.
So much for brotherhood.
The guy dodges and counters with a blow of his own. It’s all messy and uncoordinated, which tells me he doesn’t actually know what he’s doing.
But if the two of them both get their hands on me, they could do damage anyway.
I don’t want to stay on the defensive, not with my uncertain footing on the road, so I need to end this quickly. At the very least, I need to hold them off until the bus arrives, and considering the weather, I don’t know exactly when that will be.
“Alvarado’s too chicken to do anything,” one of them taunts. That’s Marcus, I’m sure of it.
I remember his hand on Pandora’s bare stomach. He wrote a nasty word on her body, too.
I don’t have any right to be angry.
I was there, too.
I’d helped hold her down.
But, fuck, I want to make him pay for being part of the reason she’s cracking. It ignites a fire in me, and I aim a punch at his face.
It connects, and he yelps in pain.
My only regret is that nothing crunches or gives beneath my blow.
He stumbles back, but his friend fills the space he vacated, and I have to react quickly to avoid getting hit.
My foot slips dangerously when I take a step back.
Shit.
There’s a patch of ice right there.
I consider that, my eyes going to their feet.
Their shoes don’t look nearly as waterproof as mine. One of them is wearing regular sneakers. They didn’t dress for this outdoor weather like I did. I guess being a wuss about the cold benefits me.
That gives me an idea.
When Marcus’s friend throws another punch at me, I duck down and throw my arm around his side, pushing with all my strength. He lets out a surprised yelp, trying to steady himself—but his sneakers slide over the ice, and he falls head-first into the bus sign.
“Rich!” Marcus goes to him, careful in his steps.
I could warn them off here. I could let them go, and we could pretend this never happened.
I think about Pandora’s meltdown—meltdowns—and I know I was responsible for what happened. She’s already gotten her revenge on me, but not all of them have paid for it.
No better time than right now.
I grab Marcus before he can get too far, spinning him around and slamming him into the side of the enclosed bus stop.
“You will leave her alone, and you will stop being fucking stupid,” I hiss at him. “All of you. Back the fuck off.”
I shove him back against the glass, getting a cry out of him.
“A-Asch!” he wheezes. “Okay, we get it. We get it! But you need to tell her—”
“I don’t need to tell her anything,” I say, and even though I’m breathless, my voice is far steadier than his.
I slam his head into the glass, harder this time.
There’s a satisfying crunch as the glass fractures. The first hints of red spread out across the lines.
Rich gets up, and he warily approaches me, but he’s swaying on his feet.
“Don’t,” I snap at him. As little as I want them to walk away from this in one piece, I don’t want to escalate the situation any more than it’s already been escalated.
But why not, a dark part of my mind whispers?
Pandora got away with it.
Blaze gets away with it.
It’s my job to protect them. I could erase Marcus entirely, and what the fuck is his family going to do? Cry about violence on campus? That’s what they signed up for when they enrolled at Dyschord and joined Kappa Alpha.
I see motion out of the corner of my eye. It’s the bus, finally, and I—reluctantly—release Marcus.
“Get the fuck out of here,” I snarl. “And don’t forget that I’m not some helpless little bitch.”
Rich and Marcus practically cower before me.
I understand why Blaze enjoys doing this.
I get on the bus, swipe my card, and pick the seat farthest in the back. My breath is coming in fast and uneven.
Blaze loves this side of me. Pandora loves this side of me.
But I don’t.
I’m not supposed to lose control or revel in violence.
It’s not the first time I have, though, and it won’t be the last.
Usually, it’s in defense of Blaze, but this time…
Pandora is every bit as important to me as Blaze is. I should have taken photos of Marcus and Rich to show Pandora my own predilections toward violence. I want to show her that like Blaze, I’d do anything for her.
I get off the bus at the stop near the house we’re renting, and I’m still lost in my thoughts when I head inside. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good fight, and my adrenaline has my heart racing.
I stop short when I see Blaze sitting on the couch in the living room.
He looks freshly showered, his hair still damp and a towel around his neck. He has his feet up on the coffee table.
As soon as Blaze hears me, he sets his tablet aside and glances in my direction.
“Hey,” he says.
There’s something off about his voice.
I frown at him. “What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly on edge. “No one went after you too, did they?”
The idea of Keegan’s lackeys going at Blaze directly has my blood boiling, and I wish I’d slammed Marcus’s head harder against that glass.
He deserves worse than a concussion.
My thoughts flick back to the smear of blood.
Broken bones would’ve been better, more tangible, something to leave a lasting impression.
I might not have Blaze’s money or power, but I’m not helpless.
“Huh? No.” Blaze tilts his head at me. “I was with Pandora.”
“Is she okay?” I ask, my hackles still up. “If those fuckers went after her again…”
The need to spill more blood howls inside of me, threatening to break loose.
“Uh.” Blaze grimaces. “No, probably not. Considering she provoked me into attacking her.”
I freeze. “She… You did what?” I demand. “What the fuck, Blaze? You attacked her?” I spin around on my heel. “I’m going to check on her.”
“I don’t think she’s up for more sex after how hard I pounded her,” Blaze says. “Trust me, she wanted me to choke her and slap her around.”
I stop.
Yeah, that sounds like Pandora, but the question is why.
“Was she just in the mood for rough sex, or is she…” I trail off.
Is she what?
Losing it?
What do we have to do to protect her from herself?
“No fucking clue.” Blaze shifts on the couch and drops his arm across the back. “Sit down, Asch. After you take those shoes off, because I don’t want to step into gross street crud.”
Wariness replaces some of the anger, and I take my boots off before going to sit down on the couch next to him. “What’s going on?” I ask. “You’re being weird.”
“I have no fucking clue,” Blaze says. “Do you want to know how Pandora provoked me?”
No.
Not really.
I don’t think I’m going to like the answer to that question.
“Yeah,” I tell him anyway.
Blaze stares me in the eyes.
Normally, I can read him easily. He’s my best friend. We’ve been at each other’s side almost daily for the past eight years. I can’t remember ever going more than a few days without talking to him.
I should know immediately whether this is a good or bad conversation.
But he’s completely inscrutable to me right now.
“Okay?” I prompt. “What did she say?”
Blaze licks his lips. “She told me about your pledge secret.”
My heart drops into my stomach.
Rage and shame crash into me like a tidal wave, and I’m not sure which is stronger.