“I’m gonna head over there,” I said, pointing behind me towards a large set of doors that a lot of people had congregated around. “I need to find a bar. I’m thirsty.”
Liv gave me a thumbs up and Effy just grinned and carried on staring up at Zak Atwood as he worked his magic. Girl was obsessed already.
I pushed through the crowds and made my way to the doors. I couldn’t see a bar, but there were concrete stairs leading to the basement area of the warehouse. Maybe there’d be a bar down there? It was worth checking out. There didn’t seem to be anything else other than drunken dancers on the main floor.
I started to climb down the steps, grabbing onto the railings to stop myself from falling arse-over-tit in my heels, and people parted for me as I did. No doubt they knew who I was. My face had been plastered on enough newspapers alongside my father’s over the years. Anything to further the career of the perfect family man. But here, in this building, I was the fly in the ointment, the cat amongst the pigeons as far as these people were concerned. I may as well have sounded a claxon and told them the party was over, judging from the looks of distain they threw my way.
Who invited the MP’s daughter to piss on our bonfire?
I got to the bottom of the stairs and had to climb over a couple making out on the floor. I would’ve told them to get a room, but I think they liked the audience they were attracting. Strange thing was, I couldn’t drag my eyes away from them either. Kind of made me a hypocrite, I suppose.
I shook that thought out of my mind and glanced down the narrow and dimly lit hallway. Cheers and chants echoed in the dark passage and an even bigger crowd gathered around a doorway a few feet away. People were jostling to get inside and see past each other to witness what was going on. I made my way down there, intrigued to find out what had got so many people all fired up. When I made it to the doorway, I slid through a gap in the crowd and managed to push my way into the room.
If I thought upstairs was stuffy, it was nothing compared to this room. It was stiflingly hot and the stench of sweat, tinged with a metallic odour that clung to your skin like filth, hung heavy around us. A few men in front of me turned around and then parted a little to give me a better view. There were hay bales set up as a makeshift ring, and two men, shirtless and dripping in sweat and blood were fighting. Bare-knuckle fighting. One guy was wiping blood off his face and panting, trying to catch his breath. But no matter how much he wiped, the blood just kept on pouring. He had a nasty gash on his forehead and he needed stitches. Hell, he looked punch drunk. I think he needed an ambulance. But that wasn’t gonna stop his opponent. The other guy stalked over to him and smacked his fist into the guy’s face, making him fall backwards and causing the whole crowd to cheer or jeer, I couldn’t tell the difference. Then he leant over him and said something, before spitting in his face and kicking him in the ribs, making the guy curl up into a ball. I felt sick watching this. It was barbaric. How could this be called entertainment? Watching someone beat the crap out of someone else. He could’ve killed that guy.
The guy left standing turned around and glowered at the crowds with a smirk straight from hell and my stomach rolled.
Brandon Mathers.
I should’ve known.
His dark hair was dripping with sweat and sticking to his forehead. Blood was splattered over his bare tattooed chest and soaking through his jeans. But the guy was full-on grinning, looking truly psychotic, as if he hadn’t felt a thing. This was all part of the show for him. Forget the poor dude lying on the ground who needed to go to the hospital. Brandon Mathers was a whole new species of feral and he loved it.
He scanned the crowd, winking at a few people and fist-bumping others. Then his eyes landed on me and I froze. That grin on his nasty face grew wider and he pointed right at me. Chills broke out all over my previously sweaty skin and then… I felt him before I heard him.
“You’re not welcome here, little Winters.” I’d recognise that voice anywhere. Ryan Hardy was standing behind me. I could feel the heat from his body penetrating through to mine, but he wasn’t touching me. He didn’t need to, to get a reaction from me. He leant down to whisper into my ear and the feel of his breath feathering over my skin made me shudder.
“Why are you here? Come to spy on us, have you? Gonna report us to Daddy?” I didn’t move, I couldn’t. I stared ahead at Brandon Mathers, smirking at me like the lunatic he was, as Ryan whispered his threats, hoping to scare me.
“Big mistake, Winters. You’re on our turf now. Daddy can’t help you here and you’re pretty fucking stupid to jump into the lions’ den tonight. We’re not pussy cats. We fight dirty.” He probably thought his words scared me, but they didn’t. What scared me was how fast my heart was beating right now, and how much I wanted to turn around and face him.
“I can see that.” I kept my eyes on Brandon as I spoke, fully engaging in his battle to stare me down. These boys were tag-teaming, trying to frighten me. I wouldn’t let them.
“Then why the hell are you still standing here? Run, little Winters. Run away like the weak little girl you are.”
I couldn’t deny his voice, his words, damn, just his presence did something to me.
“I’m not weak and I’m not scared of you, Ryan.” He laughed, and I felt his hand brush against my elbow, making me flinch at the shock it sent through my body.
“Oh? You should be.” His voice was deeper now, and it felt like we were trapped inside a bubble; Ryan, Brandon and me. One was trying to intimidate me with words, the other with his mind. “We don’t take kindly to rats. Is that what you are, Winters? A rat? Are you trying to set us up?” I took a deep breath. His nearness made me feel like I was drowning. Each breath I took was too shallow, not enough to gain oxygen, and I was beginning to feel dizzy.
“I’m not a rat and I don’t set people up,” I said through gritted teeth.
“And why should I believe you? You come from a long line of rats. Your daddy is the king of them. What would he say if he could see his little princess now?” I knew they hated my father, that was no secret, but they knew fuck all about me.
“He’d probably tell me to knee you in the fucking balls.” I lifted my chin, trying to look like I had my shit together.
“I’d have you on your back before your knee got anywhere near my balls, sweetheart. Is that what you want? To fight me?” Why did that statement, coming from him, make my heart skip a beat? What was happening here? Ryan Hardy and Brandon Mathers had barely looked at me growing up. And now, here I was, starring in their fucked-up battle of wits, and thoughts of being put on my back were making me all sorts of flustered and confused.
“I don’t want anything to do with you,” was all I could think of to say with my brain in its current state of meltdown.
“Then I’ll ask again. Why are you here? I think it’s time you left. Nothing good can come from you being here… in our world.” He stepped a little closer into me, but I couldn’t move away. I had to see how th
is played out.
“I don’t want any part of your world. If you have a problem with me, then why don’t you cry me a fucking river and drown yourself in it.” There it was, my sass was still there, buried deep inside me under all the confusion and… Was that lust?
“There she is, the little Winters drama queen. Just because you’re daddy’s little princess, doesn’t mean we’re gonna treat you like royalty, sweetheart. Maybe we need to show you what we do to rats in our world?” Again with the threats. I wasn’t scared of him. Brandon Mathers looked like a scary motherfucker, but I wasn’t gonna let these guys spook me.