Page 55 of Kings & Chaos

And I wasn’t just talking about fight night.

I caught several cuts and leather jackets with the Blackwell Blades and Blackwell Barbarian logos and more than one giant tattooed with what I was almost positive were gang symbols.

Plus, the package from my stalker had me spooked.

Rock had disappeared with Neo, probably to commiserate about how to make my life more miserable. It was fine with me. I wasn’t ready to make nice with any of them, and I was almost looking forward to going home for Thanksgiving in a few days.

My mom was a major bitch most of the time, but I missed her. And I needed some space from the Kings. Neo would be there, but he’d made ignoring me an art form. We’d just steer clear of each other for a couple of days and then we could go our separate ways when we got back to the Kings’ house.

And there was a silver lining: the Kings had decided to wait until after the break to start game number two. This game was more dangerous than the first one — no one wanted an assault charge — and according to Neo, it would take time for the other houses to set up.

He was sure no one would make a move before the break, and with everything else that was going on and tonight’s fight, he was worried about us getting “sloppy."

At least I’d get to see him take a few punches. The thought was like a nice cozy fire to my little heart.

Oscar and I reached the edge of the crowd, and I stood against the wall of the theater, glad to be out of the fray.

Oscar leaned in to be heard over the music, and the whisper of his breath against my ear sent a shiver of hunger through my body. His dark hair flopped over his forehead, the glint of his piercings a big fucking tease now that I knew what they could do to my cunt.

Fuck me. Why was I so weak when it came to the Kings?

“Drink?” Oscar asked.

I nodded, not wanting to shout over the music.

He lifted the camera around his neck and took a picture of me leaning against the wall.

“What the fuck, Oscar?” There was no outrage, just resignation. These boys did what they wanted, when they wanted. All I could do was strap myself in, and I had to admit, it was one hell of a ride.

He grinned. “Saving it for later. Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

It wasn’t lost on me that he hadn’t bothered to ask what I wanted. That was a question that seemed totally unimportant to the Kings in their efforts to hijack my life.

On the big screen at the front of the theater, Jessica Chastain and Oscar Issac were arguing in a movie I’d never seen. Oscar would know. He’d seen practically every movie ever made, even the really old ones.

I studied the crowd, my heart thudding. Was my stalker here, one of the people lingering on the edge of the crowd, waiting for an opportunity to strike when I was alone?

I touched the switchblade, tucked into the pocket of my jeans. It made me feel better, even though I didn’t know fuck all about how to use a knife for protection. I mean, I’d looked up some videos online, but I wasn’t stupid enough to believe that made me an expert.

“These things blow.”

The words were shouted from my left, and I looked over to see a young dark-haired woman leaning against the wall next to me.

“Agreed,” I said.

“Here for the fight?” she asked, flipping her long dark hair.

“Unfortunately,” I said.

She laughed. “Boyfriend?”

Her brown eyes were rimmed with long natural lashes, and she had cheekbones for days and full lips that didn’t look cosmetic.

I barked out a laugh. “Enemy is more like it.”

She took a drink from the cup in her hand. “That’s a lot more interesting.”

She looked vaguely familiar, but that was probably because she had such a pretty girl-next-door thing going on. She could have been a student at one of the local colleges, but something told me she was a townie.

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