Fuck.
I take the next right and head toward UW.
“Where are we going?” Serena asks.
I turn the volume up even more, ignoring her. I always knew she would be a problem, letting her emotions cloud her fucking judgment. I don’t even know why she’s with me right now, other than she’s nosy as fuck. Sooner or later, I’m going to put her in her place.
I pull up to the front of campus, purposely on the opposite side where she dorms. I reach over, opening the door for her.
“Get out.”
“You don’t have to be such a dick.”
The pills I took haven’t kicked in yet, so the pain throbs in my entire body. “You cause more problems than you’re good for. Get the fuck out.”
She snaps, “I’m not the psychopath who––”
I grab her hair.
From anyone on the outside looking in, it could look like a possessive kiss as I bring her face towards mine.
It’s not.
I loathe this girl.
I whisper in her ear, “If you say his name again, Serena, I will make sure you regret it in a way you won’t recover from.”
I release her. She pulls back just an inch, staring into my eyes. Something in her expression shifts — not quite fear, but the place right before it.
“You think you’re such a fucking king, Theo––”
I grab her by the throat. Is she sick in the fucking head? Does she know when to stop?
I look down at her lips, wondering what extent I’ll need to go to keep her mouth shut.
But she doesn’t say anything more, so I pull back my hand. She removes herself from my car and slams the door shut.
I don’t need her around when things start collapsing.
I lean against the brick wall, head tipped back, waiting for my boys to arrive. The pain in my arm throbs like a heartbeat. My vision swims. I throw a few more pills into my mouth to drown out the feeling. I tell myself I’m only thinking about the fight. The hit. The rage. The unfinished score of Jax Kingsway. Jax from UCLA wants beef? Well, I’ll serve it to him on a silver fucking platter.
Cody is a story for another day. I don’t need to worry about him anymore.
My phone buzzes. My father’s name flashes on the screen. He probably heard about the tragedy of my teammate and wants to check in.
I ignore it, closing my eyes. My arm rests against my body. The fracture runs clean across the bone –– a perfect split. Cody’s face didn’t split that clean. I threw out the sling, not wanting to give anyone the wrong idea.
I huff. These fuckers really told me to meet them back here, and they’re not here yet.
Ten fucking minutes.
That’s how long it takes before headlights sweep across me, and a familiar beat-up dark green Jeep comes into view — Silas’s baby, a Frankenstein of parts he stole from junkyards and salvaged like treasure. It rumbles to a stop beside me, and the passenger door swings open.
Silas whistles low when he reaches my side.
“There he is,” he says. “The man of the hour.”
Silas lifts both hands, rings glinting beneath the streetlight. “It’s broken, isn’t it?”
