Page 29 of The Catalyst

I think Judy, Ronan, and myself stop breathing as my fingers dig into Judy’s wrist, fear gripping me. I did precisely what Ronan told me to. I didn’t tell Nigel, but it didn’t matter because Martin just did.

“He’s tuning him out,” Ronan says as the voices around us boom, demanding blood. “This is what Gray does. He tries to make his opponents lose focus, but Nigel doesn’t listen. He can’t break his focus.”

The ref blows a whistle and that seems to get Nigel moving despite the vulgar things Martin is throwing at him. My fingers tremble with anxiety as Nigel walks further into the circle, cracking his knuckles.

“This is not a match to the death, gentleman. The match ends when one of your knees hits the ground. The one left standing will be the champion. No crotch shots. Understood?”

Nigel doesn’t acknowledge the referee, but Martin nods, with a menacing look.

If Nigel wasn't watching, I doubt the prick would've done it or maybe he would've.

Nigel’s back tenses in anger. He may not be listening, but he definitely saw that.

The referee barely drops the cloth to signal the official start of the match before Nigel takes two long strides over to Martin and slams his fist into his gut–a single hit.

And Martin Gray, the prick, drops to his knees, ending the match barely after it has begun.

That was anticlimactic as fuck.

The crowd cheers at Nigel’s victory, but Nigel looks pissed when his eyes meet mine. I’m not self-conscious enough to think he’s pissed at me. He’s struggling not to pummel Martin into the ground, but considering the match is over, I have no idea if he would be able to do that and not go to jail. This is already an illegal match, and I doubt Martin is so stupid to incriminate himself by filing charges against Nigel.

Still, I plead with Nigel with my eyes, begging him not to do something stupid. I understand that he’s extremely possessive and territorial over me, but how could he expect me to open myself up to him if he does something that could easily get him taken away from me so soon?

He turns back to Martin, even as people cheer for him, and squats down to the loser’s level. He says something to him, something possibly threatening, but then Nigel stands to his feet, turns and heads straight for me.

I open my mouth to speak and explain what happened with Martin, but I can’t get the words out before he charges past me, his shoulder barely touching my own as he moves.

“Fuck,” Ronan groans as he turns to me, an apology clear in his eyes. “I’ll talk to him, okay?”

I nod, knowing that shoving it in Ronan’s face about how this is his fault won’t help. As a matter of fact, it would probably make everything worse.

I didn’t do anything wrong. I did what Nigel and Ronan told me to do. Somehow, I feel like I’m the fuck up here, even though I know that’s ridiculous.

CHAPTER 13

BETH

I’ve been patient, more patient than Nigel deserves at this point. When I’m guilty of fucking up, I’ll gladly sit there and accept whatever punishment he wants to dull out. I'd sit by and wait for him to decide if he wants to move past it all.

This isn’t that kind of situation. This is quite literally the opposite of that. I’m not guilty, which means I’m being way nicer about this than I should be. He deserves my wrath. Why? For multiple reasons, some of which he probably has no idea I know about.

One, Nigel very publicly dismissed me as if to say he’s done with me and that I’ve served my purpose. I’m not just some random girl he invited to his bed at a party anymore. I was willing to be that the night we met, but he pursued this with me. He dragged me into his aura, and if he wants to spit me out now, he won’t get me back.

Not now.

Not ever.

“Come on, Beth. Just wait a bit longer,” Judy pleads as I grab the pair of pajamas I keep stashed in Nigel’s bedside table drawer for our occasional sleepovers. My mom thought I was spending the night with Judy those times, but I won’t need them here any longer.

“I’ve waited long enough.”

I told myself that I wouldn’t catch feelings for Nigel, but then I let my guard down, the barrier slowly thinning out and turning brittle with time, slowly conceding until it was like a bomb exploded against the walls protecting my heart. It’s only been a few hours since then, but it was enough for that event to feel like a kick in the teeth.

“I know you’re upset and have every right to be. Make him hurt, but don’t leave like this.”

I don’t respond to her pleas as I dash into his adjoined bathroom and grab my spare brush that I also left here.

Stupid girl. What the hell else did I expect from a guy like Nigel O’Reilly? When it comes to bad boys, only one thing happens to good girls like me. They get burned until there’s nothing left but a pile of ash and soot.

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