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Kieran was stronger than me.

“Try calling me one of your disrespectful nicknames again.” He sped up, and I crashed into another pillar. “And I’ll forget the rules of this damn town!”

My stupid head tried to recognize something of the young man I had beaten in a race on my motorcycle, remembering how he had apologized to me on the evening of the winter ball.

Standing in front of me was someone else, someone dangerous, who wasn't joking around, who certainly wasn't going to apologize, not to someone like me.

His thick brown hair looked tousled, his eyes glowed yellow, filled with rage. He stepped closer, but left a three-foot gap between us before lowering his voice.

“And tell your clown of a brother that if he ever even looks at my bike again, it'll be the last time he ever sees his sister.”

All the cockiness drained from my chest.

I had felt something like sympathy when Miles had ruined his luxury motorcycle, but that now vanished completely, and I wished Miles had blown it up entirely.

Warning and hatred mingled in his gaze. His jaw worked abnormally hard.

At the end of the hallway, a group of girls started laughing.

Abruptly, he tore his gaze away from me and strode past me, both hands in the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Asshole,” I wanted to call after him, but for the first time I listened to the warning in the back of my mind and kicked the pillar next to me in frustration.

The head of one of the stone snakes began to crumble.

Did this Wheeler really think I would listen to his threats? This fucker obviously hadn't yet had the pleasure of getting to know Larissa DeLoughrey’s rebellious side. It was about damn time that changed.

Chapter 39

Kieran

Supermassive Black Hole

Muse

The snow had melted, which I usually didn't give a shit about, but I, the idiot I was, had said yes to Noah's request.

Who could have known that this change in weather would encourage the football coach to call for early spring training?

I liked to exercise and go hunting with the pack. But this was bullshit.

I was standing on the soggy turf of the Vanderwood Athletic Campus’ football field with the guys dressed in dark green jerseys and heavy football gear, also dressed in this ridiculous training outfit with the number twenty-six, and I had had to cancel my swimming coach for today because Coach Brennon considered himself the absolute priority of the Athletic Campus.

Of course, I had done my research on him. And if he ever pissed me off, I had the choice of which of his two affairs I would send the private sex tapes with his wife to, along with the details of his Swiss private bank account.

Said devil, a clueless human man, mind you, with his receding hairline and beer belly, who was still in reasonably good shape, and liked to yell at the team, stood on the sidelines and shouted from afar at Cody, who almost tripped over Hunter's foot.

Cody, wearing number thirteen, barely managed to throw the ball before Hunter pounced on him and tackled him to the ground.

However, Harry Jones, Hunter's big brother, who was on our team and wore number fifteen on his jersey, caught the ball and immediately thunderous cheers erupted from the sidelines.

Bored girls from campus had gathered in large numbers on the grandstands in their little groups on blankets and were cheering excitedly.

It had never made sense to me why football was almost like a religion in America. I already missed my individual sports or training with Emely.

Sitting on the sidelines with her dark green Vanderwood baseball cap, she waved at me with a grin. She knew how much I enjoyed this crap.

You'll survive, I heard her voice in my head through our Senseque connection. It was a message intended only for me, which was why none of the other guys heard it.