Page 25 of Hateful Games

Rosalie

An illegal underground fighting ring.

That’s where Malcolm has brought me.

It’s hidden in one of the old abandoned buildings just at the back of the huge, beautiful campus. I was in awe the entire time as I gazed at the building, gobsmacked at the stunning architecture. My campus back home is pretty but compared to here, it might as well be a chaotic village.

Only a few universities back in India could match the luxurious feel.

Bianca, my interior designing enthusiast best friend, would’ve fainted.

“Is your idea of thrill betting at an illegal fight?” I ask before muttering, “How lame. Judging by the car you drive, I assumed you come from money.”

“I do.” Malcolm gazes down at me before muttering, “And I’m starting to see why Nova hates you.”

“Trust me, out of all the reasons he hates me, being annoying will be at the bottom of the list.”

“I want that list.”

I roll my eyes and pay attention to walking down the flight of stairs to the basement with Malcolm taking the lead. The narrow staircase is mostly dark, with flickering light bulbs. However, I can hear the unmistakable and muted noises drifting to us. The telltale sound of hooting, whistling, and shouting.

“What about me screams my idea of fun is violence?”

Malcolm neither looks back nor slows down as he replies, “Nova once slipped and told us that a girl blasted his precious Maybach, I’m betting it was you.”

My gait falters. While my guilty silence gives him his answer and his shoulders shake as if he’s both impressed and humored.

“Damn, love. How the hell did you even manage that?”

“My driver, who’s family to me, taught me all about cars growing up. I was always fascinated watching him work in the garage on my dad’s precious collection. He would explain all the ins and outs while I listened,” I relay, reminiscing about the happy memories from my limited peaceful collection of my childhood. Shrugging, I confess, “It was easy, really. Just a twisting and interchanging of wires and a leak in the oil tank did the trick.”

“What if you had been caught? Or Nova had reported it and gotten you arrested?”

My father would’ve probably praised me and then bailed me out. “I would’ve walked away scot-free.”

It’s not a brag. Just the honest truth.

“Moral of the story: I should sincerely refrain from pissing you off.”

Before I can give a smart-ass comeback, we reach the basement and I’m swept into the mayhem and adrenaline and aggression pumping in the air. The wide-open space with high ceilings is jam-packed with hundreds of students. Some dancing in dark corners, while others are drunk and tripping, completely shit-faced.

Kegs are spread out all around while in the middle sits the large boxing ring.

No—strike that. It’s a cage.

It looks scary with its steel barbwire walls, almost representing a death ring. Where only the winner comes out alive. I feel claustrophobic the longer I stare at it.

Only someone insane would willing go inside it, let alone fight.

I glance around at the crowd, my heart beating faster at the thought of Nova jumping out of thin air in my path. Malcolm’s scowl doesn’t disappear, even as his friends come and greet him. The boys slapping him on the back while girls throw themselves at him with their sultry eyes.

Of course, he’s popular.

Meanwhile, I gingerly trail after him while trying my best not to get trampled.

Curious eyes observe me intently, betraying that I’m a new face. The attention making my skin prickle. However, I’m given a wide berth. Mostly because of who I’m with, rather than my own icy expression I could never tame.

“Who do we have here?” a flirty and slightly slurred voice asks. A classically handsome guy appearing from my right, stopping to stand next to Malcolm. “I haven’t seen her around. Fresher?”

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