9. Zela
With the new location, The Pit is pushing for more fights, and while I don’t have to take part, I want to.
I could always use the money, and now more than ever I can use the outlet.
Every weekend for the next three weeks, I fight, and there's some big fight set up at the end that is all hush-hush, a celebration for the new Pit. I hadn’t cared what it was before, but now, knowing who’s in charge, I’ve been trying to listen in on their conversations a little more, see if I can hear anything about it.
Of course, I’ve heard nothing so far, though. They don’t seem to talk about the fights much outside of actually being there, and that’s when I want to be as far from them as possible.
Well, that’s not true.
I always want to stay away from them, but at The Pit, it's dangerous to be around them. One wrong move, and they'll know who I am—what then?
Thankfully, this week has been rather boring. Diane and Dad have spent a lot of time at the house, wanting to eat dinners together and enjoy what's left of the warm weather before fall hits in a few weeks. BBQs, pizza, time in the pool, and even a movie on the projector out in the yard.
It’s all been great, if I’m being honest, and if I had normal brothers, I might even enjoy this new ‘family,’ but that’s not how life goes, at least not for me.
By the time Diane and Dad turn in each night, it’s late enough to say, “I’m doing the same.” I really do have homework to get done and a book I’d love to finish.
Not to mention training, since I can only do so much in the gym.
The week has been easier than I thought possible while living with the three of them, and I almost don’t hate it…almost.
That is, until Thursday night, when we’re all sitting around the table eating tacos that apparently they made.
Had I known that prior to eating them, I would have refused. It wasn’t until I took a bite and my eyes nearly rolled into the back of my head as the flavor exploded on my tongue that my dad cared to fill me in.
“The boys make a mean taco, don’t they, Munchkin?” I nearly choke on the once-delicious bite as it turns sour, and I have to gulp down water.
“Heavens, dear, don’t call her that when she’s eating; you know how she hates it.” Diane scolds my father, and while I do hate it, that has nothing to do with my near-death experience.
I can’t exactly tell them why I’m choking, though, so I let it go.
The smug look on Kol’s face tells me he doesn’t need an explanation; he knows.
We eat, and the guys and Dad make small talk. Diane asks me if I have my eye on any lucky guy, and she seems genuinely sad when I quickly tell her no. I don’t really date; the one man I ever thought I might be with disappeared, so I just take that as a sign from the universe.
It’s almost normal—until dinner's wrapping up and Jace opens his big mouth.
“Don’t worry about it. Me and Zee can clean up, Ma,” he tells Diane when she starts to collect plates.
She beams at his use of a nickname for me, clearly taking it for something it’s not, but I don’t have the heart to correct it. Judging by the smirk on his face, he knew exactly what he was doing, too.
“Such good kids.” I hear her tell Dad as they head up for bed, leaving me with the three of them.
Fucking hell.
I swallow down the slight panic and push to stand, collecting plates the way Diane just had without looking at any of them directly.
They might be intimidating, but I don’t need to cower at their feet if I can help it. I can clean up and get to bed without incident; I just need to move and not give them a reason to say anything.
To my shock, they remain mostly quiet. I hear Jace snicker when I move around him to collect his plate, but he doesn’t say anything to me, and I do my best to ignore him and pretend like I don’t feel their eyes following my every move.
I make it to the kitchen, setting the plates down in the sink before I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Oh, come now, we're not that bad, Zela.” I spin around, thankful I’d already set the plates down, or I no doubt would have dropped them.
Kolson stands with his back to the wall, arms folded, lips pulled down in a frown that I’m beginning to think is his natural state.
I huff and turn back to rinse the plates off, hoping he didn’t see the way I jumped but knowing he did. How could he miss it?
I’m kicking myself for letting him sneak up on me when I feel him behind me. Again, I didn’t hear him, and I make a mental note to pay better attention; clearly there’s more to Kolson than I thought.
I swallow down the urge to scream or lash out another way, instead focusing on the dishes.
Diane usually has a chef and someone to do things like this, but this week she wanted us to bond, so it’s been just us at night.
If I leave the dishes, I know someone will do them in the morning, but honestly, right now I could use the distraction, and I hate that Kolson probably knows that as well as I do.
His body heat is almost too much, despite the fact that he isn’t touching me, and when he finally walks away, I sag hard enough that I end up resting my head against the faucet.
I quickly snap back up, whipping around as I realize the mistake I just made, the weakness I showed, and breathe a sigh of relief when I find I’m alone.
A second later, Isaac walks in with an armful of dirty dishes and sets them on the counter. His lips pull down in a frown when he sees me scrubbing a plate, something I hadn’t even realized I was doing.
“Leave them. Arthur will get them later.” He’s gone before I can respond, which is probably for the best. Except that leaves only Jace left, and something tells me I didn’t see the other two just for him to hide away.
Well, Isaac did say to leave them, and while I might usually hate that, right now I’ll count my blessings.
Flipping the water off, I wipe my hands on my jeans as I make my way out of the kitchen, the opposite way of the dining room.
Thank the freaking universe they have such a big house.
I’m halfway up the stairs when I pause and think better of it.
They always go out after dinner, every night like clockwork.
Now would be a perfect time to go down to the gym; not only do I need to move, but without them there, I can relax a little.
I still can’t do full sets, but it’s better than nothing.
I need to find a gym close by that I can use, or maybe talk to Reed about his schedule so I can stop by a few times a week when he’s there to use The Pit’s gym.
I take the rest of the stairs two at a time and burst into my room, quickly stripping out of my jeans and hoodie in favor of something I can move a little better in.
I throw on a baggy tee over my sports bra to hide my tattoo and the crazy bruise on my hip from the last fight that’s just now starting to fade before I toss my hair up into a sloppy bun.
And then I wait.
I sit on the bed, bouncing with anticipation before I jump up and head into the bathroom. I have time to kill, so I might as well be through; it only takes me two minutes to cover the tattoo, and with it being out of sight completely, I feel some of my tension melt away.
The makeup tube is almost empty, and I make a mental note to order more later.
That stuff is like magic.
Not ten minutes later, I hear it: the loud rumble of Isaac’s truck.
They’re leaving just like I knew they would!
My room is on the front side of the house, so I could easily pop my head out and watch them leave, but I don’t dare.
The last thing I need is to make them suspicious.
I leave my room, heading for the far set of stairs closer to the gym, when I see the truck's lights hit the house as they pull around and down the driveway.
I can’t stop the skip in my step.
The house feels different without them, more enjoyable and less suffocating. I look at the gym with fresh eyes and see the cameras in the corners.
I don’t even try to fight the smile that pulls to my lips as I grab a few of the small towels by the door and hurry around the room to cover the cameras, flipping the last camera off for good measure.
Probably not my best idea, but too late now.
I hit the treadmill to warm up, setting an alarm on my phone for three hours. They’re usually gone most of the night, but the way I see it, three hours gives me plenty of time to get an actual workout in and ensures I’m back in my room as if I were never here.
All that’s left is to connect my phone to the Bluetooth speakers that are built into just about every room in the house and lose myself in the music and the burn.
And that’s exactly what I do.
I run until my legs are burning and my breathing is ragged, then switch to free weights, then move to the bench, then the pull-up bar. Everything is on fire, covered in sweat, by the time I make it to the heavy bag in the corner, and I don’t think twice as I chuck my shirt aside.
This sports bra is long enough that most of my tattoo is hidden. I bought it just for that reason. Besides, it’s not like anyone's around to see it.
I half-ass wrap my hands, too impatient to waste time doing it right.
The first hit makes my heart race, and after a few minutes, I’m damn near giddy.
I’ve missed this.
Fighting gives me power, the one gift from Ozy nobody can take away. He taught me to fight when I needed it most, and I’ve never been more thankful for a gift. With it, I’m in control—no longer helpless or at the mercy of anyone else. Not to mention, it’s a great way to make money.
A low whistle makes me freeze. It was quiet enough that I’m not sure I actually heard it at first, unsure if it was part of the song playing, but when the hair on the back of my neck stands up, I know.
Whipping around, I find Jace leaning against the wall, his arms folded across his chest. He doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes roam over me, and suddenly, I’m very aware of my lack of a shirt.
His eyes catch on the greenish bruise on my hip, and I watch his brows scrunch up in obvious confusion, but he doesn’t ask, and I’m sure as fuck not going to volunteer.