Chapter 17 #2
This time, I’m ready for the clean version of her.
The trained version. The one who thinks speed and form will save her.
She comes in high, then shifts low at the last second, hand cutting for my throat again.
I slap it off-line and crash into her instead of stepping back.
Shoulder to sternum. Chaos, exactly like Cormac said.
She wasn’t expecting that.
Neither were the people filming. I hear bets being placed. Mostly in my favour.
I like that.
We slam together and stagger three steps. She gets a hand in my hair and yanks. Pain lights up my scalp. I answer by hooking my foot behind her ankle and driving my forehead into her face for the third time today because apparently, I’ve become a fucking battering ram.
She makes a sound that is half fury, half pain.
And that’s when I see my guys scrapping with her guards. I hadn’t even seen them approach. If they hadn’t had my back, I’d be dead.
Her hand tightens in my hair. My eyes water. I slam the heel of my hand up under her chin.
Her teeth snap together. Her grip loosens for one precious second. I rip my head sideways and bring my knee up hard into her ribs.
She grunts and stumbles back a step, still clinging to my hoodie with her other hand. I seize the lapel of her coat, twist, and drag her down with me instead of letting her control the angle. We crash sideways. My shoulder jars. Her nails tear another line across my throat.
I don’t care.
I drive my thumb at her eye again. She jerks away and swings wildly. Her knuckles catch my cheekbone. Pain blooms hot and mean.
“Fucking cunt,” she spits.
“Cry about it.” I grab the back of her neck and drive her forward, shoving her toward the wet stone. She twists at the last second, trained enough to save herself from eating the ground fully, but she still goes down hard onto one hand, and even the crowd hear her bone snap.
I wince inwardly. That had to fucking hurt.
She grunts, cradling it.
“Give up?” I ask, slamming my fist into my other palm.
If looks could kill, I’d be buried under the quad with no one finding my body for a hundred years. “Fuck you. You think you’re better than me?”
“I think I just proved it.”
“Fuck you. You don’t know the first thing about being better. All you know is how to fight dirty and not give up, even when you should.”
“I’m still standing, and you’re on the ground. You’re telling me that’s not winning?”
“It’s surviving.”
“Same fucking thing on this campus.”
I don’t give her time to keep chatting. I go at her again, fast and ugly, because every second she has to think is a gift, and I’m done giving presents. She tries to rise cleanly off her good hand. I kick the bad wrist.
She screams.
Not loud. Sharp. Involuntary. Real.
The crowd reacts with a vicious little thrill that turns my stomach and feeds my temper at the same time.
I grab a handful of her coat and haul her halfway up just to shove her back down again. “You should’ve stayed in your lane.”
“My lane?” she spits, face white under the blood. “You have no idea whose lane this is.”
That lands somewhere deeper than I want it to, but I don’t let it show. “Funny. I was just starting to think it might be mine.”
Her gaze cuts over my shoulder again, toward the chaos behind me. I hear fists connecting. A body hitting stone. Someone in the crowd is laughing because, apparently, this is entertainment now.
“This is how it’s done,” I say louder so everyone can hear me. “This is how the Apex wins. That Board seat is mine, and I dare anyone fucking one of you to try to take it from me. Including you,” I spit down at Roisin.
Silence hits for half a beat after I say it.
Then the quad detonates. Phones are lifted higher. The vicious rush of a crowd that has just seen blood and power change hands in public and is already rewriting the story before it has even finished happening.
Roisin rises from the ground, cradling her injured arm against her chest while her gaze promises future bloodshed. Her mouth is red. Her coat is ruined. For the first time since I met her, she doesn’t look polished. She looks feral. Humiliated.
“You arrogant little cunt,” she says, voice shaking at the edges.
I smile at her through my split lip. “And yet you’re still on the ground.”
She gets to her feet unsteadily. “Not for long, bitch. You won’t see it coming.”
“Maybe not. But I’m pretty sure the eyes Séamus ó Briain has on me will.” So, I name-dropped. Sue me.
It works.
The fear that flashes in her eyes is real. Terrified even. Whether she knew or suspected, that has been confirmed, and she knows I know.
I take a step closer. “Like I said. That Board seat is mine. I will put anyone who tries to take it from me in the ground.”
“Expect to be busy then,” she snarls and stalks off, her dignity in tatters. Her guards are on the ground. My guys look like they’ve been ten rounds but came out the victors. I turn my back on them and face the crowd.
“Did you bet on me?” I call out. “Because you didn’t learn from your fucking mistakes.”
I step backwards, my guys moving in around me, and I finally feel what has been missing since I was crowned Apex.
Power.