Chapter 28
THEY COME BARGING IN LIKE men on a warpath.
Postures tensed and ready for a confrontation, determination and hostility in equal measure stretched across their faces.
Something hollow rings out in my mind, a sense that this isn't the retaliation Ashton mentioned earlier.
This is something else, and a sense of urgency – a silent, creeping need to get out of here – scratches on my mind when I realize that they're accompanied by a third person.
Katy Durnst. She follows behind them wearing a sickeningly sweet smile. It doesn't escape my notice that she has her phone clutched in her hand. That need to be anywhere else but here triples. It's screaming now, foreseeing the way this inevitably ends.
Maybe this is their retaliation. But it feels much more sinister than that.
Brent charges forward until he's less than a foot away. I step to the side, creating some distance but Blake isn't too far away. Taller than I am, larger too, he takes up more space than Brent, painting the picture of a threat.
Suddenly, I feel like cornered prey – boxed in, facing the wolf's snapping jaws – but I refuse to give them the satisfaction.
Katy has her phone angled in portrait – a tactic they use to make editing the videos easier when they don't have to worry about the perpetrators' faces being filmed.
I refuse to let them see that some part of me is afraid of their retaliation.
"What the hell is this?" I fire, glaring at Brent, mindful of Blake in my periphery, keenly aware that Katy has started recording.
Why does he always bring back up whenever he corners someone and why is that back up always Blake and Katy?
I get it, though.
That's the retaliation tactic. They corner their prey, film the whole thing. Then Katy and whoever else helps her, edits the video with sound effects, text, and voiced-over comments before they start sharing the video to selected persons responsible for making it go viral around school.
Blake is as strong as he looks. But that motherfucker never fights fair which makes him the kind of person you never want to scrap with, but he'll definitely be an advantage if he's on your side.
"You fucking know why, asshole," Brent seethes.
I flick my gaze to Blake, observing his posture.
His arms are crossed over his chest, a crooked and sick kind of grin plastered on his face.
His eyes are dark with menace and amusement – a quiet challenge as if he's silently begging me to give him a reason to attack.
These sick bastards!
"Are you seriously doing this because I didn't hand you the captain position?"
"I deserved that position! I'm better than half the team," Brent rages.
I step back as he steps forward, getting into my personal space. I'm not fast enough though. He shoots out a hand, wrapping the front of my shirt around his fist, hauling me closer, his strength surprising me.
I could chalk it up to 'angry' strength but that would be a lie. Brent's always been a little too strong for his own good.
"This isn't about how good of a player you are.
It's about something you clearly don't have.
Besides, the team spoke." I narrow my eyes, aware that pushing him like this can't end well.
But he chose to confront me like this, somehow believing I had influence in who the team chose as their new captain. "You're not fit to be captain."
Brent's nostrils flare, eyes crazed with fury. His punch lands square to my jaw, the impact sending me stumbling. Tripping over my feet, shock proliferates, knocking the sense out of me but I don't hit the floor.
Blake moves swiftly, coming around behind me and gripping my shoulders. The muscles between my shoulders go stiff with pain when my arms are pulled and secured behind my back, Blake's arms wrapping around mine like steel vices, locking me into place.
Leaving me unable to properly defend myself.
I barely have the time to regroup my bearings when the first of many punches to my stomach lands. He keeps going even when my knees buckle, my strength waning. I'm forced back to my feet, Blake tightening his hold on me.
Brent launches another fist at my face, but at the last moment, I dodge and he misses, catching Blake in the nose instead, loosening the grip on my arms. Adrenaline surges, the back of my head slamming into Blake's face.
He cries out in pain, letting go of me altogether to clutch his face.
I'm battered and sore, bruised and aching, but I don't stop fighting.
Brent lunges, driving his shoulder into my belly.
We crash into the bench, toppling over it.
Using the momentum, I roll, gaining the upper hand, straddling Brent as I rain down punch after punch across his face.
He throws his arms up to take the brunt of my fury, but I turn my focus to his torso.
With a single well-placed punch, he sucks in a deep breath, his arms moving away from his face.
Heavy footfalls pound the floor of the court, and I'm suddenly yanked off of Brent.
"Not so fast, Conner."
Blake fucking Dalton.
He moves so fast that I barely have the time to understand what's happening or fight back until Brent scrambles to his feet. He gestures for Blake to drag me back to my feet, his arm pressing into my neck tightening.
An arm around my neck – crushing air out of me – and using his free hand, he yanks me up by my hair.
"Hold him still," Brent instructs. He balls his fist but before the punch can land, the gymnasium doors burst open for the second time.
Everyone freezes, and just over my shoulder, through the disoriented haze, I catch a glimpse of who's there.
It's not an authority figure. Most of them have left the compound by now. And if it had been, Blake wouldn't still be holding me upright. My vision blurs as the person comes stomping inside – faster than I think any human can move, barreling right into Brent.
Katy screams like the building is suddenly set ablaze. She stops recording and bolts, the gymnasium doors swinging shut behind her.
Brent hits the ground with a heavy thud, a large boot slamming into his stomach. He cries out by the sudden attack, gritting his teeth in pain when he's suddenly yanked to his feet by his hair much like Blake had done to me.
Shock, confusion, and relief knocks into me so intensely at the unexpected savior.
Sky's face is a dark mask of controlled rage. His eyes are reddened with a terrifying kind of fury. A vein in his neck bulges, his jaw tight. The very sight of him sends a bolt of terror shooting through me.
Tuesday's attack had shown me a bloodthirsty side of him – a side I didn't think he was capable of.
It had been terrifying to witness all of that – the calmness, the light in his gaze as if he enjoyed inflicting pain.
It was a calculated kind of sinister because behind the excitement I saw on his face, it's like he was thinking of all the ways to hurt that man without killing him.
But this is different. That sinister light is replaced by a bottomless darkness, one so black that I can't begin to make sense of it except that he doesn't seem to gain enjoyment from it.
This is simply rage.
Total and complete. Black and without recourse. Senseless. All-consuming.
In the blink of an eye, he has Brent in a vicious headlock. Not the kind where he'll pass out if a little pressure is used but the kind that will cause permanent damage.
Sky looks straight at Blake, and when those blue eyes slither past, it sends a chill sweeping up my spine, air whooshing out of my lungs, and the beat of my heart hollows.
Sky Daniels has always frightened me when he wasn't annoying me. But this is nothing like I can comprehend. He's downright terrifying to look at.
"I'll make this easy," he drawls almost lazily but I hear the underlying plea.
It's calculated and cruel in the worst possible way.
It makes my stomach turn and twist. "I'm having a shit day so let him go, or I'll snap Harper's neck.
" As if to prove his point, his grip tightens causing Brent to wheeze and choke.
He tugs at Sky's arm, trying to ease the pressure on his throat, his face steadily turning from red to darker shades.
"You're bluffing. You wouldn't actually –"
Blake's words are cut off when Brent chokes again. A sinister curl of Sky's lips makes his bravado falter.
He wants a reason to hurt Brent.
"Blake," I say, "let me go. He's not bluffing."
I've seen what he's capable of. If this persists, I don't want to think about what will happen.
Sky raises an eyebrow. "Not letting him go? Fine, I guess Harper's death will be on your –"
"Stop it!" The words hurtle out of my mouth. Before I can think twice about what I'm doing, I'm taking advantage of Blake being distracted, stomping down on his foot. He grunts, shoving me away and I don't hesitate to round on him, driving a fist into his solar plexus, and another to his jaw.
Sky lets go of Brent and he stumbles. Fear flashes across his face and then he's bolting out of the gymnasium.
The sounds of a fight explode behind us. I don't need to look back to know that Sky's turned his fury onto Blake.
Instead, I chase after Brent, rage of my ownspurring me on.