Page 20 of Lies Like Love

His words from before the fight revolve in my head.

Jude isn’t just proving a point. He’s making a statement—for me. He’s going to drag this out in the most painful way possible while I’m witness to every moment.

Most people want you to see their best side, but Jude was always intent on me seeing his worst. The darkest, most ruthless, bloodiest parts. Testing my limits and viciously pushing me past them.

Tonight isn’t a fight—it’s a reminder. With every connection of his fist on his opponent’s flesh he’s delivering a message. He’s violent, aggressive, angry. And he wants to make sure I never forget it.

The rounds go on and on. It feels like it’s endless as I wait for one of them to give up. By round seven Jude doesn’t even take a hit, but he goes easy on the other fighter anyway. Prolonging the battle to the final seconds on the clock.

And each time I circle the ring with the sign, it feels more like a punishment. Like if I dared to show up here, Jude’s going to make me suffer as much as possible. He might not like me being on display, but he cares about vengeance more.

Round nine starts and Sage has leaned back in his chair, no longer seeming the least bit worried. Jude is winning—he’s already won—he just hasn’t landed the final punch.

“Stepsister huh?” Sage says to me, finally, after avoiding talking for the past five rounds.

“Ex.”

Sage hums, not sharing whatever he’s thinking.

Just as the ninth round is about to end, Jude finally steps in and rears his arm back, landing one final blow to the side of his opponent’s face, which knocks him out cold. The fighter falls like a dead weight to the ring, into the blood of all the fighters before him.

Jude barely acknowledges it as he flexes his hands at his sides and steps back. And for the first time in seven rounds, his gaze dares to find me. Amusement erased, leaving nothing but rage.

“Better go crown the winner,” Sage says, standing up and walking away at his own comment. But it feels like more of a taunt than an actual compliment.

And none of this feels like a win.

The referee leads me into the ring as he starts to announce Jude’s score. But Jude couldn’t seem to care less as I stand on the other side of him and wait for whatever he’s planning.

Jude wasn’t supposed to be here.

Maren should have told me about what was expected of me before I walked into this.

All these thoughts race through my mind as the referee’s voice is mumbled by my blood pounding between my temples.

“Jude Carlisle.” The referee announces, and the crowd rears to life.

This is it; I feel it in my bones. My skin tingles and my stomach drops. Because as much as I hate Jude for everything he’s done, and as much as I never wanted to see him again, he’s right. I have thought about this.

Lying in bed at fifteen, I wondered what it would be like to be lost against his lips. I wondered if he was worth the flames of hell it would bring the both of us. I’d lie awake and hate my mother for marrying his father because I’d never see him as the brother I was supposed to.

He was supposed to be mine.

But now, the lines are blurred in blood, and I’m not sure what I want.

I turn to face Jude but he’s not looking at me. He’s standing tall with his hands at his sides and his fingers flexing. His jaw works, and he lets out a deep breath. “Don’t come back here, Red.”

And he walks away, not looking back.

6

Jude

“WonderedifI’dseeyou here.”

The familiar voice draws out a grin I can’t contain. A voice I’ve thought about more than I should have these past couple of weeks since running into her at another one of my father’s pretentious networking events.

She was so sweet, I swore she might have been a figment of my imagination, but here she is. Ocean-blue eyes dragging me under.

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