I shrink back, putting a little tremor in my voice for good measure. “Sorry.”
Wes shoots Raf a glare, like he’s about to snap at him for being a dick, but instead just mutters, “You don’t have to bite her head off.”
Raf ignores him. Ford keeps staring at his shoes, but the side of his mouth twitches, like he’s about to say something but thinks better of it. For all his big talk, he looks… deflated. I didn’t even know he had a setting belowsmug bastard, but apparently, group humiliation is the magic button.
A minute passes. Then another. I almost wish I’d brought a book or something.
Ford finally speaks, but it’s just a sigh, heavy and theatrical. “There’ll be other fights,” he mutters, mostly to himself.
Raf snorts bitterly. “Not with a fucking scout in the audience. Not with him watching me get my ass handed to me by a gorilla who can’t even spell his own name.”
Ford grimaces, shrugging. “Shouldn’t have lost focus.”
Raf rounds on him so fast the seatbelt nearly chokes him. “Say that again,” he growls.
Ford meets his eyes, deadpan. “You heard me.”
Raf’s knuckles go white, but he doesn’t swing. He just shakes his head and goes back to staring out the windshield, vibrating with the need to punch something. Wes says nothing, but his jaw is working so hard it’s a wonder he doesn’t crack a tooth.
I sit perfectly still and let the chaos wash over me.
It’s weird, watching three guys who normally move in perfect formation completely fall apart. They’re so busy feuding with each other, they don’t even notice me watching, cataloging every new crack in their facade. I’m so wrapped up in the spectacle that I almost miss the flicker of guilt that comes with it. Like,these guys are monsters and I should want them to destroy each other, but seeing them this… broken? It’s not as satisfying as I thought it’d be. Especially Wes. He looks like a whipped puppy.
Maybe that’s why I can’t stop myself from talking again.
“There will be other fights,” I repeat softly, echoing Ford’s words. “Right?”
Silence.
“Yeah,” Wes grits out after a moment. “There’s always another fight.”
Raf just shakes his head, still staring at the road.
Ford finally glances up at me, and the look in his eyes is…off. He’s usually the first to make a joke, lighten the mood, but now he’s just staring, all the charm and menace burned out of him. “You enjoying this, Ava?” he asks quietly.
I blink, playing innocent. “What do you mean?”
He looks away, jaw clenched, not answering.
The rest of the drive passes in a haze of headlights and suppressed violence. Nobody says another word all the way back to campus, the Escalade barely pausing before rolling through the gates. Security just waves us right on through– probably too scared to cross the Kings, even when they’re bleeding all over the leather seats.
Wes shifts into park with a little too much force, the car lurching to a halt. For a second, nobody moves.
Then Raf pops his seatbelt, flings the door open, and stalks toward Sutton Hall without a backward glance. Wes follows, slower, grabbing Raf’s bag for him and slinging it over his shoulder like it weighs a hundred pounds. Ford and I are the last ones left.
He doesn’t even look at me as he shoves the door open, but when I start to follow, he grabs me by the wrist and yanks me back. It’s not rough– if anything, it’s weirdly gentle for him. I blink, startled.
He leans in, and for a split second, I think he’s going to kiss me. But then his hand slides up to my chin, thumb sweeping over my lower lip.
“Careful, Ava baby,” he murmurs. “If you’re playing a game, be sure it’s one you can win.”
My stomach drops, hard. For the first time all night, I feel genuinely scared.
He lets me go just as fast, turning and trudging toward Sutton Hall, his silhouette receding into the shadows. I stand there for a moment, frozen in the darkness, replaying his words in my head.
He knows.
I don’t know how, but he fuckingknows.
