Chapter 31 Fighter #2
Their voices aren’t pitying. They’re not whispering tragedy behind their hands anymore.
I walked into the ring and rewrote my name.
Jace walks ahead, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other still close to me, not touching, but near enough that I could grab it if I stumbled.
I don’t. Not after his claim.
I kinda want to fight again, though, just because of that. I’m not an object to be claimed.
Noah lingers just behind me, his jacket now draped over my shoulders. I didn’t ask. He didn’t offer. He just did it, and I let him.
Tex walks on my other side, jaw tight, quiet. But there’s a tension rolling off him that isn’t anger, it’s pride. Fierce, silent pride.
And Luca?
He’s already halfway up the steps, yelling to the guy who runs the board. “Run me my money, baby! I told you she’d wreck her!”
I blink. “You actually bet on me?”
Luca grins over his shoulder. “Please. I saw that fire in your eyes the second you tied up your hair. Best odds I’ve had in weeks.”
“You’re the worst,” I mutter.
“I’m the richest,” he corrects, tossing a wink back at me.
“Feel like we should be concerned about your gambling tendencies,” I mumble. Noah laughs.
Outside, the night air is sharp and clean — too cold for the sheer bralette I’m still wearing, but I barely feel it. Everything’s tingling. My blood’s still running hot. We drive back to campus and electricity thrums through me.
The gravel crunches under our boots as we walk across the path back toward the dorms. The lights from Blackmoore’s towers glow through the trees, pale gold and stately.
It should feel like returning to a cage. But it doesn’t. Not with them walking beside me.
Not with my knuckles split and my pulse still singing.
Not after tonight.
Luca nudges me with his elbow. “So. When are we forming an underground tag team?”
“You’d slow me down,” I say.
He gasps. “Unbelievable.”
“I’d pay to watch that,” Noah says.
“I’d pay to refuse to watch it,” Tex mutters.
Jace hasn’t said anything since. He’s walking just ahead, calm as ever. But when I glance up at him, I catch it — the flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
It’s small. But it’s real. My heart stops for a moment.
We reach the dorms. They stop with me at the door like it’s instinct.
“Shift schedule still stands,” Jace says. “One of us is in your room every night.”
Tex looks at me. “You want it to be me tonight?”
Jace shifts, a smirk on his lips.
Oh no, we can’t have that.
I smile at Tex, “Yeah.”
Jace raises a brow, but he doesn’t argue. He just steps aside. Tex walks inside, sweeping the room, checking corners, making sure I don’t have to.
The hot water stings where my skin is raw — shoulders scraped, elbow bruised, a cut across my ribs from hitting the ground wrong.
But I don’t care.
I stand under the spray until the ache turns clean. Until the dirt and sweat and blood swirl down the drain and the water runs clear.
When I step out, I pull on one of my oversized tees — soft and worn — and a pair of shorts. My hair’s still damp, pulled into a loose braid down my back.
Tex is waiting on the couch.
He’s set out a small first-aid kit on the table, not the bulky institutional one from the dorm, but a sleek, matte-black, Guild-issued pack. Of course.
He doesn’t look up right away. Just gestures for me to sit.
I do. He kneels in front of me. The moment stretches, quiet except for the rustle of gauze and antiseptic swabs.
“You don’t have to do this,” I murmur.
“I know. But I want to take care of you.”
He takes my arm, his touch light— fingertips grazing along the scrape at my elbow. It’s not deep.
“You should’ve iced this already,” he says.
“I was busy.” I shrug then wince.
The corner of his mouth twitches — the barest hint of amusement. “You almost dislocated your shoulder.”
I lift my chin. “But I didn’t.”
He doesn’t argue.
Just dabs the cut with something that stings. I hiss, and he pauses immediately, not pulling back but softening his pressure.
“Sorry.”
I shake my head. “Don’t stop.”
He wraps the gauze with practiced precision — crisp, clean, controlled. Of course he’s done this before. For himself, probably. For the others. But he’s quiet with me. Focused.
He finishes wrapping the scrape on my arm and reaches for another antiseptic wipe.
“This one might suck.”
I shift slightly, lifting the hem of my shirt to show the bruise forming under my ribs.
He stills.
Then he nods once and kneels a little closer. The cloth is cool against my skin. The contact burns anyway.
“You fought well,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“No, I mean it.” He looks up again, gaze locking with mine. “You didn’t panic. You read her. Adapted.”
“I learned from the best.”
Tex smiles, and I realize it’s the first one since we’ve been alone.
“What’s wrong?”
His hand pauses for a beat but then continues. “I just don’t like seeing you hurt. The only marks I want to see on your body are the ones I leave.”
“But I’m not hurt, per se. I won, Tex. I just… needed to fight.” My breath catches a little.
I’m not broken glass anymore. I’m a sword still cooling from the forge.
“I know,” Tex says, standing smoothly.
He tucks the last piece of gauze back into the kit and clicks it shut. Then, without another word, he heads over to one of the duffel bags tucked near the door.
I blink. I didn’t even see them.
Of course, the boys brought supplies. Probably took shifts packing while I was changing earlier.
Before I can ask, he disappears into the bathroom.
The door clicks shut behind him, and for the first time all night, I’m alone.
The silence settles in around me.
My limbs ache. My ribs throb dully. But beneath the physical exhaustion is something else — something sharper. A kind of clarity.
I fought. And I won. Not just the match, the moment. The fear. The helplessness I didn’t even know I was still carrying.
And the most unexpected part of the night? That kiss.
Jace claiming me.
My blood boils again. How dare he?
He thinks after all the shit he’s put me through that a kiss will just erase it all?
No, it was just the adrenaline, and he was there. That’s it.
But he didn’t hover. Didn’t doubt. He just watched. Supported. Believed. Considering he was telling me to fuck off at the Halloween dance a couple weeks ago…
It hits me all at once how rare that is, to be trusted with your own strength.
The bathroom door opens. Steam rolls out first, thick and curling into the room. Then Tex steps through.
Hair damp. No shirt. Just a pair of soft, gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the waistband slung in that effortless way that feels almost calculated. His chest is lean and cut with quiet definition, a few faint scars trailing across his ribs and collarbone.
I blink once. Hard. He tosses the towel into the hamper like he didn’t just silence every thought in my brain.
He smirks.
“You’re drooling.” His deep chuckle makes me shiver.
“I am not!” I grin as he climbs into bed beside me.
I prop myself up on my elbow, and Tex does the same, his fingers tracing lazy lines up and down my side.
“I’m proud of you.” He takes my hand, kissing my knuckles. “You were amazing out there.”
“Me?” I laugh. “Talk about you! You were brutal. Vicious. Seeing you unleash like that. It was hot.”
He lifts an eyebrow, pushing up to loom over me. “Oh really?”
I giggle as he lowers his lips to my neck. I sigh and I run my fingers through his hair.
“I wonder if you can show me how hot you found it.” Tex’s deep voice fills my ear as his hand slides down my body.
My pulse jumps. His fingers find my clit and pinch slightly. My fingers dig into his shoulders, and he kisses me again as his fingers rub me with perfect pressure.
“I find you very hot,” I gasp as another jolt of pleasure moves through me. “I think you can feel that for yourself.”
Tex smiles as his fingers move faster and faster. Everything from tonight pushes me over and my orgasm slams into me.