Page 114 of Spearcrest Knight

At his side is my ex, Giselle, flushed from too much drink and dressed head to toe in white. I’m surprised to see them together. Luca’s already been there with her—he had to, since I dated her first—and it’s not like him to spend time with girls he’s already had.

“Where are you off to in such a hurry, Evan?” Luca asks in his lazy drawl. “Looking for someone?”

I narrow my eyes at him. Before I can say anything, Giselle jumps in with all the grace of a brick.

“Probably Sophie Sutton, as always. You’d think you’d get over her after finally ticking her off your list.” She gives a dramatic sigh and shakes her head at me. “Poor girl sex must be like crack to you.”

My stomach churns and my hands clench into fists. Giselle was always a bit annoyed with the special attention I paid Sophie, no matter how cruel and vicious it was. We broke up over it, and I can’t believe she’s still not over it. No, actually Icanbelieve it.

“I suppose poor girls need to put in a lot more effort since they have literally nothing but their cunts to offer,” Luca pipes in, his grin shark-like, his eyes cold. “I’m starting to understand this fascination of yours, Evan. Who knows, I might give it a try myself.” Bile burns in my throat. I slowly shake my head at Luca, hoping he’ll heed my silent warning. But his grin widens. “Isn’t Sophie applying to the Ivy Leagues? That’s costly business. I bet if I offer to pay for her university tuition, she’d let me do anything to her. Get my father to name a bursary after her and I bet she’d even let me fuck her up the arse.”

My vision goes blood-red. My thoughts go dark, the light blown out in my brain. The next thing I know I’m on the floor stradling Luca, smashing my fist over and over again in his smug face.

“You vile, disgusting piece of shit. You’re never going to speak about Sophie this way ever again. I don’t care how much fucking money your shady fucking father has, I will fucking break every bone in your body if I ever hear her name in your mouth again.”

Luca is pretty strong, and far more athletic than he looks. I know for a fact he’s a fencing champion. But he’s no match for my strength—he doesn’t even bother throwing up his arms. He takes my punches and I don’t stop until my fist is slick with his blood, until his face is purple mush.

When I’m done, I grab him by his shirt. The snowy fabric is stained with blood. His chest rises and falls quickly. His breathing is a wet wheeze.

Pulling his face to mine, I speak low and clear. “I’m only going to say this once so listen well. Stay thefuckaway from Sophie.”

I throw him away from me and stand. My entire body is shaking. My forehead is slick with sweat. A circle of shocked onlookers have formed around us. I spot the other Young Kings. Zach and Sev’s eyes are wide with shock. Iakov’s expression is blank, almost bored. He’s still sipping his vodka.

Not a single one of them made a move to help Luca while I beat him up.

None of them move to help him as I walk away.

35

Fishnets

Sophie

Evan’sstrideislongand quick as he rushes out of the old Botanical Studies building and through the Arboretum. I’m not drunk, I'm a little light-headed as I rush after him. Luckily, the ice-cold air slaps against my face, clearing the fog of alcohol from my mind.

I catch up with him and grab his elbow. He whirls around. His eyes go wide.

Moonlight filters down through the thick canopy of evergreens, dim but pale enough for me to make out his face. His cheeks are flushed, blood splattered across his chin, lips and cheeks. He’s breathing hard. His hands are still clenched into fists.

“Are you alright?” he asks, his voice a little hoarse.

I’ve never seen him like this. Evan always projects this sense that everything washes over him, that everything is just one great joke and he’s in on it. But he doesn’t look like he’s laughing now.

“Areyou?” I ask.

I grab his arms and lift them to get a better look at his hands. They’re caked with blood. His knuckles are a mess of cuts and bruises.

“Look at you.” I shake my head at him. “You know the skull is stronger than the bones in your hands, right?”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Hard on soft, soft on hard.” He glances down at his hands with a wince. “It’s not my fault I’ve grown up on action movies and superhero flicks.”

“Not Arthurian legends and chivalric romances?”

He frowns. “I don’t even know what that is. You know I’m stupid.”

I shrug. “Knights in shining armour and damsels in distress.”

The moonlight isn’t strong enough that I can fully make out the spectrum of emotions on his face. But even in the darkness, I can tell he’s not smiling with his usual carefree arrogance.

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