Page 178 of Pretty Little Lies

Not will be.

Never will be until he’s six feet in the ground.

He propels off the ground, sendings Cairo stumbling back a little, losing his momentum on Matteo’s face.

“Up!” I’m not sure if he can hear me, but speaking to him is making the growing anxiety in my chest loosen up a little.

Cairo rises to his feet and delivers a kick to Matteo’s throat, getting him to drop the gun, but not the large sledgehammer still tightened in his grasp. He swings it again, and Cairo steps back, but then he dishes out another punch to Matteo’s head and I watch my ex’s body roll back and slam to the unforgiving ground.

Cairo slices his hand across his neck and takes a few steps back.

The people below and all around lose it.

The roaring of victory ping-pongs off the walls and my body is already climbing over Nessa’s body and down the bleachers to get to him.

I don’t know why.

Cairo Black means nothing to me but being a straight pain in the ass. He’s made it more than clear how much of a slut he thinks I am.

When I reach the floor, I squeeze through men exchanging money and chugging down beers, liquor bottles with no chaser, and delighted with the winner. Levi’s words saunter into my head about Cairo’s father and how much he respects him without saying the words.

He doesn’t need you coddling him.

The thought hits my head right when my eyes connect with Cairo’s dark ones. He stands next to an older man who mirrors him. Dark features and a looming sense of power hover over him, and I immediately believe that it’s Lorenzo Black bringing his son down from the ring.

He ducks underneath the ropes and jumps to the floor, receiving a light slap to the shoulder from his old man, and begins toward my direction with purpose. Men congratulate him, still cheering him on and expressing their joy at him taking out the impulsive-ass Matteo De Leon.

When he reaches me, he stops on a dime within a foot of me, and I see all of the aftermaths of the fight. The crimson blood, the sheer blanket of sweat, and the look of perseverance painted all over his perfect face.

I’m relieved and upset…with myself.

I have zero reason to be approaching him about anything. We’re not each other’s biggest fans—at all. He wouldn’t catch a bullet for me, and I’d trip him without a second thought if he was acting like an ass clown.

Fingers wrap around mine and he pulls at me, guiding us through the thick throng of people as we stride from the space and somewhere else.

We breach the crowd moments later and arrive at a small and dark hallway, when my spine is pressed into the side of it and Cairo is immediately in my face.

“Came to watch me get my ass kicked?” His palm lands on the wall next to my head. A dim light hanging overhead gives way to the blood and cuts along his normally pristine features.

“You’re bleeding everywhere.”

Cairo stares at me for a second before one of his brows rise. “That’s what happens when you fight, Little Terror. If you’re any good, you happen to get some on you.”

“You need a fucking doctor.”

He shakes his head a tad. “I don’t want a doctor.”

“Don’t tell me you did all this just to be stubborn and bleed to death.”

“What are you doing here, Little T? If you’re trying to get Torin and Reeve’s attention, you got it. They’re already fucking pissed.”

I blow out a slow and unsteady exhale past my lips. “Yeah…I figured.”

“You fuckin’ Wallace again?” I open my mouth to retort that question when he tacks on, “Or not at all.”

I knew it.

Levi and I are not award-winning actors, so the whole fake-dating was just a shot in the dark to see if we could get movement.

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