No one says a word on the drive back. Ford passes out, his head lolling onto my shoulder, breath thick with whiskey. Raf stares out the window, alert and watchful. Wes keeps his eyes on the road, hands tight on the wheel.
I’m not sure when we get back to campus, or how I make it to my bed, or even whether I sleep at all.
But my palm still stings, the cut down the center starting to scab over.
Blood in, blood out.
I’m in now. There’s no going back.
CHAPTER 28
WES
It’s only beentwo days since the crypt, but I already feel the shift. Not in the everyday stuff– classes are still the same, the weather still sucks, and our apartment is still a battleground of who can drag Ava to their bed first– but there’s a new energy now. An odd tension, like the sky before a tornado, every molecule charged and just waiting to tear itself apart.
Maybe it’s just been the buildup to fight night.
We’re halfway to Dyersville, Raf riding shotgun with his fists clenched and his chin down, Ford sprawled out in the back with Ava draped over his lap, and me at the wheel. It snowed last night, the dusting still on the road gleaming under the Escalade’s headlights. There’s a scout supposedly coming out to watch tonight, and everyone knows what it means if Raf delivers. Which he will. He’s never lost when it matters.
Raf’s pump-up playlist is blasting through the speakers, the thundering bass rattling the windows. He’s doing that thing where he zones out completely, running scenarios in his head and bobbing his head every time a new track starts. If anyone tries to talk to him before a fight, he’ll just snarl or tune you out. I’ve seen him ignore faculty, cops… even a call from the Invictus when he’s in the zone. Right now, he’s probably vividlyimagining his opponent’s skull caving under his fist, blow by blow. I don’t blame him. I envy it. I wish I had something that simple to fixate on.
Unfortunately for Raf, Ford is incapable of silence tonight. He’s got his phone in one hand, a bottle of cheap whiskey in the other, and Ava’s bare thighs slung across his knees. He’s running his mouth– half to her, half to himself– his voice just barely cutting through the drums and guitar.
“You ready to see our boy make someone bleed, baby?” he purrs, lips brushing her ear. “You’re not gonna take off running like you did with Travis, are you?”
Ava rolls her eyes, glancing at me in the rearview like she’s checking to see if I’m listening. Of course I am. I always am, especially when it comes to her.
“I can handle it,” she says, twisting in Ford’s lap to face him. “Besides, it’s not like you’re the one stepping in the ring.”
Ford grins, showing off the gold canine he had installed just to piss off his old man. “That’s right. My job is to look pretty, get drunk, and bang you senseless in the bathroom during intermission.” He kisses her neck, and I watch her eyes flutter closed, a little shiver running through her. My hands tighten on the steering wheel, white-knuckled.
“Better fucking not,” Raf mutters, flexing his hands. “Distract me tonight, and you’re a dead man, Ford.”
Ford barks a laugh, as if accepting the challenge.
Ava opens her eyes and catches me staring. “You okay, Wes?” she asks, voice pitched just loud enough to slice through the music.
“Peachy,” I say, flicking my gaze back to the road. I feel Ford’s grin in the mirror, daring me to start something. If Raf weren’t sitting next to me, I’d tell him to fuck off. Maybe I’d even do it, just to see how hard I could punch before breaking his jaw.But I don’t. Instead, I turn the volume up another notch, rattling the car with the drumbeat.
Ava shifts off Ford’s lap onto the seat beside him, stealing the whiskey bottle from his grip. She’s wearing a black leather miniskirt, thigh-high boots, and a tank that looks spray-painted onto her body. I don’t know what kind of self-destructive impulse made her think this was appropriate for an underground fight night, but the second she walked out of her room dressed like that, Ford and I both just… stopped. I’ve never seen him actually speechless, but for half a minute, the only sound in the apartment was the click of her boots on the hardwood. Even Raf did a double-take, and he’s immune to hot girls by default.
She pulls her phone out of her purse and checks the screen. “How much longer?” she asks, wincing as she shifts her weight.
“Twenty minutes,” I grumble, and she nods, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear that’s come loose from her ponytail.
Ford reaches over, sliding his hand up her thigh. “Don’t even think about taking that plug out. You need to wear it all night, sweetheart.”
She makes a face, her cheeks flushing pink. “Shut up,” she hisses.
I glance at her in the mirror, then at Ford, hitting the stereo button to turn off the music. “Plug?” I repeat, voice flat.
Ford winks, not even pretending to be embarrassed. “Gotta get her ass ready to take my dick later.” He squeezes her thigh, and Ava slaps his hand away, but not very hard.
My jaw grinds as realization sinks in. “Jesus, Ford. She’s not a fucking toy.”
He laughs again. “That’s rich, coming from the guy who made her suck him off in a public hallway.”
The car goes dead silent. Raf stiffens, turning his head just enough to glare at me out of the corner of his eye. Ava looks down at her lap, fiddling with the hem of her skirt.
