This is crazy.
He’s crazy.
I’ve been well aware of that fact since the first time I met him, but I’m one hundred percent sure now. There’s no doubt about his psychosis.
My fingers clench and I slide them against my shorts, then fish out my phone and tap the number called ‘Emergency.’
It rings once. Twice.
And then he picks up with a half-sleeping voice. “Hello? Glyndon?” The older male voice speaks with its usual warmth. “Are you there?”
“Um, yeah. Sorry if I woke you up.”
“No, I was just watching TV and dozed off. Where are you? It sounds noisy.”
“I’m outside with friends.” I kick an imaginary pebble. “It’s coming back, Dr. Ferrell. I can’t… I can’t control it anymore.”
“That’s okay. Breathe.” His voice sobers up, sounding soothing like that first time Mum took me to him at my request.
Ever since my early teens, I suffered with a huge inferiority complex and I couldn’t survive in our household without the need to do something nefarious.
It didn’t matter how much my parents tried to talk to me, I always found a way to escape into my own head and block them out.
Which is where Dr. Ferrell came in. I was too hesitant to talk to my family, but I could pour my heart out to a professional. He taught me how to recognize when I’m overwhelmed, to talk about it instead of burying it, to paint it instead of letting it rip me from the inside out.
But I don’t have my brush and canvas now, so I could only call him. This late. Like a creep.
“What made it come back?” he asks after a moment.
“I don’t know. Everything?”
“Does this concern Devlin?”
“Yes and no. I don’t like people living their lives as if Devlin was never a part of it. I don’t like how they tiptoe around his name as if he was never there, or how they’re even starting rumors about his weird tendencies. I was his only friend, I knew him best, I could defend him best, but the moment I want to talk, my tongue gets tied up and I start hyperventilating. I hate it, this, them, the fact that they erased him as if he never existed.” A tear cascades down my cheek. “He said it would happen, that he and I would be forgotten, and I think…maybe…maybe that’s true.”
“We agreed not to go there, Glyndon. Devlin was loved by you and he’s remembered by you.”
“But that’s not enough.”
“I’m sure it is for him.”
A long breath whooshes out of me, letting his words sink in. Right. The world never understood Dev, so why should he be remembered by them?
I’m enough.
“Can you tell me the reason behind the trigger of your emotions?”
I rub my palm against my shorts and stare at the crowd where that psycho disappeared. He’s not even in sight anymore, and yet, he’s, without doubt, the reason every stone I carefully laid inside me is tumbling down.
Or at least, he’s the drop that made the cup overflow.
But I can’t tell Dr. Ferrell about that, because he’ll read into everything prior to tonight, and I’m just not ready to let it all out.
Maybe he’ll judge me for keeping it a secret.
Maybe he’ll know the actual reason why I’m keeping it a secret.
So I change direction. “I got a weird text.”
“Of what nature?”
“Someone who keeps telling me that I should’ve had the same fate as Dev and to watch my back.”
“Did their tone sound threatening?”
“It’s weird, but no. I guess my feelings are all over the place if I don’t see what they said as threatening.”
“You have every right to be that way. Don’t beat yourself up for it. And if those texts change in nature, promise you’ll let me know and report it.”
“I promise.”
The crowd buzzes with energy, some people jumping up and down to get a view of the ring.
“I gotta go, Dr. Ferrell. And thanks for listening to me.”
“Anytime.”
I hang up absentmindedly as I focus on the uproar of the crowd.
The students from REU go crazy as Creigh jumps into the ring. He’s wearing white shorts, no shirt, and his hands are wrapped in bandages.
“Go get ’em, spawn!” Remi shouts from the sidelines. “Show them what my lordship raised.”
Landon gives our cousin an ‘I’m watching you’ look from the booth above, most likely telling him that he bet on him. He’s surrounded by a few guys and girls, probably from his stupid club, Elites.
Eli is nowhere to be found, though.
My eyes automatically slip to the other side. On the sidelines stands a huge, heavily intimidating tattooed guy who I think is rumored to run in the same circles as Jeremy. He’s wearing a flashy black satin robe and jumping in place as he punches the air.
I frown. I thought Killian was going to fight Creigh, not someone else. But maybe he changed his mind, after all.
It’s impossible to imagine someone like him willingly losing anything anyway.
“Phew! I didn’t miss the big fight.” Ava slides in beside me, pushing a few rebel blonde hairs away from her eyes.
I search behind her. “Where’s Ces?”
“With Annika in obligatory confinement at the dormitory. She didn’t have to stay with her, but she was like, fuck Jeremy—I know, she really wants to die young—and kept Anni company.” Ava exhales. “That chap is scary as fuck and he doesn’t have to talk to relay it. Just his icy stare is enough. He even has guards and full-on security on freaking campus. I didn’t believe Anni could be anything but the prettiest doll alive, but she’s a mafia princess, after all.”
“Are you sure they’ll be okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. He won’t actually hurt his sister. He’s just being overprotective.”
“Cecily isn’t his sister, though.”
“No, but she has balls bigger than his guards. Don’t worry about her.” She throws up a dismissive hand. “Now, what did I miss?”
“The other player is about to get in.” I tilt my head toward the one covered with a satin robe.
“O.M.G. Nikolai Sokolov?”
“You know him?”
“Everyone on campus but you does.” She rolls her eyes. “I have to educate you on everything, I swear. What would you do without me?”
“Flounder in ignorance?”
“Exactly. So you should be thankful. Listen up. So Nikolai is one of the Heathens’ founding members and The King’s U’s rulers. See all those muscles and tattoos? They’re real. This is where you can judge a book by its cover, because Nikolai has an infamous knack for violence. All those bodies that are rumored to have been thrown in the sea? He’s the one who chopped them up. You know how Jeremy is called The Overlord? Nikolai is The Punisher. He’s like their human weapon.”
My blood goes icy. The more I hear about the Heathens, the more I dislike them. “And should Creigh fight a human weapon?”
“He’ll be fine. Cray Cray is a tough devil and our reigning champion. No human weapon will stop him.”
“Still, that guy looks thirsty for blood.”
“That’s because he is.” She searches her surroundings, then leans over and whispers, “He’s in the mafia, too. Like Jeremy.”
“Really?”
“Totally. Like, you know, even his name, Nikolai Sokolov, is actually the same as his great-grandfather who was the founder and ruler of the New York Bratva. And now, both his parents are leaders there. He and Jeremy are ruthless mobsters in the making.”
“And how do you know all of this?” I don’t know why I whisper back.
“Everyone does.” She pulls away. “And Anni gave me inside intel because she’s sweet like that and she’s been around them her whole life. So I’m like an expert on The King’s U’s inner circle now—or more like the Heathens. Serpents are a mystery.”
“And that’s something to be proud of?”
“Of course. You have to form interpersonal relationships because you never know when you’ll need them. Look.” She jerks her chin in the direction of a man who’s talking to Nikolai. He’s wearing a button-down and black trousers, appearing like he’s straight out of a formal photoshoot.
“That one is Gareth Carson, The Fixer, in their club. You know, the one who stops shit from hitting the fan with authorities or the chancellor. He’s studying law and will probably be cleaning up all of their criminal messes one day.”
“He…looks familiar.”
“That’s because he’s Killian’s older brother.”
I choke on my spit and must be staring at her like a dead fish, since Ava shakes my shoulder, then waves in front of my eyes. “Hi, hello? Are you there? I swear you bitches will be the death of me. One is a mafia princess, the other is suicidal, and this one lags.”
“That’s rude. And I’m here.”
“You just froze up, Glyn. Blimey. Get it together. It’s a given in the girls’ honor book that no boy should have that much hold on you by the mere mention of his name. Come on, my pride as your mentor is at stake here.”
“He has no freaking hold on me.”
“Yeah, right. Totally believe you and your rosy cheeks.” She sighs. “But Anni is right. We chatted more about Killian and I even did some research, and the boy is probably trouble. And by probably, I mean definitely. He’s so squeaky clean on the outside that it screams skeletons in the closet.”
I let my gaze linger on Gareth. He appears composed, handsome in a regal kind of way, and like someone with enough charisma to demand attention. But so does his brother. Maybe that whole family is screwed up.
After all, anyone who willingly gets involved with the mafia must be twisted in a way.
Nikolai is about to step into the ring when a shadow appears from behind him and taps his shoulder.
My hands shake, turning hot and sweaty as the scene slowly plays out in front of me.
Killian is only wearing red shorts. His hands are wrapped in white bandages that extend to above his wrists.
Some people are beautiful, and some are hot, but then there’s Killian’s body that’s the personification of masculine perfection.
I figured he was muscular from whenever he thought it was fun to trap me against him, but my imagination couldn’t have prepared me for the real thing.
His chest ripples with every move, his abs slick and carefully built to add to his physical superiority. Tattoos of small black birds fly from his side to his chest. No, not birds, ravens. Some of them have broken wings that disintegrate in a stunning image. The shorts hang low on his hips over a defined V-line that leaves nothing to the imagination.
I don’t want to think where that line leads to, but I can’t help the explicit images that overcrowd my brain.
No.
Get out of my head.
Is this what’s called conditioning? Shouldn’t I feel traumatized instead of…eroticizing it?
The view in front of me isn’t helping, though. Killian’s biceps and forearms bulge with muscles and veins as if his blood can’t be internally contained.
Maybe there’s a machine where his heart is supposed to be, after all.
Even I can’t deny that he scores high on physical perfection. But all monsters look beautiful from afar. It’s up close that the ugliness shows.
It’s up close that the need to run becomes a need to survive.
Still, it’s unfair that he was bestowed with a weapon to use in his predatory gains. If he was a bit ugly or had a micro dick, people would stay away.
No, I’m not going to think about his dick again. I simply am not.
“The Strategist,” Ava says from beside me and I startle.
I…actually forgot she was there during my hyperfocus on the nightmare in the form of a man.
“That’s what Killian is called,” Ava explains. “Because he’s like the mastermind behind their every operation and the initiation of members into their club.”
“What do you know about their club?”
“Aside from their rivalry with the Elites and the Serpents? Not much. Even Anni was super hush-hush about it, which makes me even more curious. I heard it’s like they’re recruiting soldiers for their future arsenal. But here’s the catch, there’s only one way in which you can enter the mafia.” Her voice lowers to a haunting whisper. “By spilling blood.”
A shudder rips through me and I have to swallow a few times as I track Killian’s movements. That bastard isn’t only crazy, but he’s ruthless and remorseless, too. The worst combination to ever exist.
He speaks a few words to Nikolai and the latter’s brow furrows. I don’t miss how Gareth takes a step back and crosses his arms.
His calm demeanor from earlier is long gone and it’s clear that he’s suppressing tension. I know because that’s how Bran and I must look whenever Lan is around.
My lips part when I become hyperaware of the similarities between us. Is he…also scared of his brother?
After some words are exchanged between Killian and Nikolai, the one in the satin robe glares, but he steps back.
And just like that, Killian heads to the ring. The announcer is baffled for a second, but then he shouts, “There’s a change from The King’s U’s side. Killian will be the one to play against Creighton!”
The people in the other uni’s crowd nearly scream their heads off. They go so crazy, I’m surprised my eardrums don’t explode. On the other hand, a deadpan silence goes through our crowd.
“Why the hell is he the one playing?” Ava whispers.
Because of me. But I don’t say that and attempt to play dumb. “Isn’t he a better option than The Punisher?”
“Hey, Nikolai’s violence is playful in these types of fights. Killian’s is deadly. He was almost locked up for nearly killing a guy last year. No one has wanted to go against him since then, except for maybe the crazy Nikolai.” She shakes her head. “Killian has been watching from the sidelines for months. The only reason Creigh won the championship last year is because Killian walked out on another adversary mid-match. When a girl asked him why he retreated, he was like. ‘Oh, that? I got bored and remembered I would rather be sleeping.’ I know. He’s that crazy.”
My limbs shake at the realization of the big trouble my cousin could be in because of me. “Let’s…get Creigh out of there.”
Because hell no, I don’t believe Killian will lose on purpose. He’s not built to lose, definitely not to prove to me or to anyone else anything.
“Bitch, please. You think Creigh will obediently follow? Look at his eyes.” She jerks a thumb in my cousin’s direction. “He’s fired up for this. He was looking forward to fighting Killian last year and felt robbed when it wasn’t him who got to the final round.”
“We need to stop him, Ava. His ego doesn’t matter compared to his life.”
“Too late,” she lets out in a whisper.
I watch in horror as the referee gives the go sign. The crowd cheers louder as Creigh and Killian circle each other.
The freaking psycho smirks and says something I don’t hear. Creigh’s expression doesn’t change, but he lunges forward, Killian ducks and punches him so hard across the face, blood explodes from my cousin’s mouth. He doesn’t even recuperate before Killian punches him again, sending him half flying over the ring.
I shriek in the middle of our crowd’s “Ahh.”
The King’s U’s students all chant, “Kill! Kill! Kill!”
I think I’m going to throw up.
My stomach clamps and I wrap an arm around it to stop from retching.
“What the fuck, what the actual fuck!” Remi screams at the top of his lungs, gripping the railings. “Don’t just stand there, Creigh. Show them what you got, spawn!”
My cousin doesn’t bother wiping the blood from his face as he lunges again. Killian tries to evade, but Creigh grabs him in a chokehold and tackles him. Our side goes crazy and Ava jumps up and down. “Yes!!! Cray Cray, get him!”
Before Killian can hit the floor, he bounces back with a punch, but Creigh jumps to the side at the last second, which makes our crowd cheer louder. “King! King! King!”
The match becomes more intense and cutthroat with each passing second.
Killian and Creighton throw punches at each other over and over, and neither of them seems to be backing down.
I clearly remember that freaking bastard saying he’d be losing.
Is bloodying my cousin’s face called losing?
“Go, Creigh!” I shout at the top of my lungs with Ava.
I could’ve sworn that my voice is unable to be heard in the middle of all the surrounding noise, but Killian’s head cocks in my direction for the first time since he left my side.
His eyes are muted, no light whatsoever in their depths, but there’s something more.
It’s almost as if he’s…angry.
Creigh uses that second of distraction to pummel him. I wince as Killian’s face flies downward then sideways with the successive punches.
But before my cousin can get the momentum, Killian kicks him away, and as Creigh regains his balance, the other corners him and punches him. Over.
And over.
And over.
Creigh tries to hold his arms up, but there’s no stopping the murderous energy that radiates off the psycho.
I’ll send him into a coma.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!” The crowd cheers at the top of their lungs.
“Tap out,” I whisper as if Creigh can hear me. “Just tap out.”
“He won’t,” Ava sounds as spooked as I am. “You know he’d rather die than tap out.”
Even Remi is shouting and cursing at him to tap out, but it’s like he’s not hearing anyone.
No, no.
He’ll really murder him at this rate.
“Kill! Kill! Kill!”
Shut up.
Shut up.
All of you shut the hell up.
“Killian!” I scream, not even sure what I’m trying to say.
Ava wraps a hand around my mouth. “What the hell are you doing? Want to get us killed by REU’s students or something? Cheering for the enemy is a sad way to die, Glyn.”
My shout gets Killian’s attention, though, because he stares at me over his shoulder. Creigh uses the chance to push him off and he’s the one with the momentum now.
He punches Killian with a ferocity of a resurrected phoenix. His blows are so powerful that Killian steps back with each one. He doesn’t attempt to defend his face.
Or his hands.
Damn it. Isn’t he supposed to be a med student? Their hands are as important to them as they are to us.
Our crowd goes nuts, while The King’s U’s students boo.
Nikolai jumps up and punches the air with a swish of his satin robe, obviously displeased with the turn of events. Gareth watches with a furrowed brow and his hands in his pockets. Instead of looking worried, he appears more suspicious.
He’s probably thinking it’s weird that his brother is losing.
With his reputation, no one would believe this scenario.
Even I am unable to wrap my mind around it.
My stomach knots as I watch him being beaten to a pulp.
What the hell is he?
Just what the hell is inside that rotten brain of his?
“Stop it,” I whisper. “Stop it, you psycho.”
I’m not like him or anyone here. I don’t like witnessing violence.
Even if a monster is on the receiving end.
People around me start wincing at how brutal Creigh’s blows are. Some girls even look to be on the verge of vomiting.
Then, in the middle of all the noise, cheering, booing, and utter chaos, Killian reaches out for Creigh’s face and taps. Twice.
The crowd is stunned to silence, and then ours roars at the news of victory. But some release a breath of relief.
Nikolai curses, Remi curses, and even the announcer curses.
“Damn. That’s the end of that, ladies and gents. The King wins!”
Killian turns with ease, even though his whole body is bruised.
Creigh grabs him by the arm. “Don’t fucking tap out. Let’s continue.”
“If we continue, I’ll kill you.” He levels him with a glare. “Back. Off.”
Creigh seems bent on his decision, but I’m thankful for Remi, who grabs him and forces him to calm all that excessive adrenaline.
My heart hammers as Killian slips from the ring. I don’t wait for him to come and find me, so I mumble an intelligible “I gotta go” to Ava, then bolt out of there.
Creigh is fine, so that bastard has nothing to threaten me with.
And I sure as hell am not going to stick around to witness his craziness in full glory.
I wrap my sweater around my middle and hasten my footsteps out of the fighting club.
As soon as I’m above ground, I breathe in a harsh intake of air. I’m still shaking and I don’t think I can stop that reaction.
It’s not until I’m in the car park that I realize we came in Ava’s car and unless I’m ready to go back in there, I have no ride.
Whatever, I’ll call an Uber.
I’m ready to lay my head on Cecily’s lap and let her tell me all sorts of psychological shit just so I can forget.
Or maybe I can paint something.
An engine revs behind me and I step to the side to give way to the car. But it swerves in front of me and I yelp as it comes to a sudden halt.
It’s a bright red Aston Martin that appears to be a custom—something my uncle would collect in his motor collection.
The driver’s door flings open and a larger-than-life shadow staggers out of it.
My heart stops when he drags his fingers through his hair, his jaw clenching. “Last I checked, we had a ride to go on, didn’t we?”
