Page 18 of Beg for It

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

BLAIR

Ireally shouldn’t be turned on right now.

But something about Phantom punching Riley just has my core doing all sorts of cartwheels.

“You,” Riley seethes.

There’s no delay as he sets his sights on the new target, throwing a counterpunch at my masked man.

Phantom dodges it easily, which only ignites the fire.

They dance around for a few seconds. Riley on the attack.

Phantom on the defense. Even though he doesn’t hit back, his every move aggravates Riley further.

He’s toying with him…and I can’t tell if that makes him brave or just stupid.

“Who” –jab– “the fuck” –jab– “are” –jab– “you?”

Phantom laughs.

It’s punch and dodge, punch and dodge, over and over.

“Blair, you don’t actually know this guy, do you?” Michelle whispers under her breath.

“It’s complicated.”

Phantom slips up, Riley’s knuckles grazing his chin and setting him off-kilter. He goes in for another strike, taking advantage of the misstep, but Phantom drops low, leg kicking out and sending Riley to the ground.

“How the mighty fall,” he taunts, giving him another kick while he’s down.

He’s so focused on Riley, he doesn’t notice he’s got his back to Brett until it’s too late.

Brett hooks him with a wicked punch right to the oblique, and it takes him out. Phantom skids across the hard dirt, and I can’t help but cry out as I watch. My body jerks in his direction, but Michelle latches onto my bicep.

When I look back at her, she has the strangest look in her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Her gaze narrows, and it unsettles me. “Something’s off.”

Brett stomps his boot on Phantom’s chest and digs in his heel. In a flash, the balisong is unsheathed and the blade sings against Brett’s calf. He lets out a curse, pulling his foot back. Phantom jerks away and uses the delay to jump up.

Instead of attacking again, Brett pauses. A quiet threat pulses into the air. He tilts his head to the side, studying his prey until he lets out a snarl.

It seems to unsettle Phantom. He shifts from foot to foot, swinging the balisong over his knuckles in rhythm. “Come on. Is that all you assholes got?”

Brett launches into action, lunging forward at full speed and tackling Phantom back to the ground. He doesn’t seem to pay the blade any mind as he wrestles him, pinning him to the dirt. Something’s changed. Brett’s a man on a mission.

It’s not until a second later, as Phantom’s mask is ripped off, that I realize what that mission is.

“Evil,” Brett growls.

This time, the blood doesn’t just drain from my face, it drains from my entire body.

I feel faint, the world going into a numb haze.

Maybe I heard it wrong. Maybe Brett was referring to someone or something else.

Except it looks like Brett is choking whoever is pinned beneath him with no intention of letting go.

People start backing away, the fight having turned a corner they no longer want to be liable for.

The balisong glints, blade sailing until it stabs right through the side of Brett’s thigh.

There are grunts and pained struggles, but Phantom scrambles free, Brett clutching his weeping thigh.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Riley charges back into the fight.

It’s the two of them against Phantom now.

No.

Not Phantom.

Oh, God.

Oh, my fucking God.

It’s—

“Eli Cross?” Riley swings back around, disgust and disbelief painted all over his face. “You gave Evil a fucking blow job? What the fuck is wrong with you, Blair? Did you inhale paint or some shit?”

I’m going to be sick.

“Blair…” Michelle’s nails dig into my arm. “Blair, he’s kidding right? You wouldn’t do something like that with a psycho loser like him?”

There’s too much going on. It’s like someone just threw all the puzzle pieces on the table and I’m scrambling to make the picture.

I rip out of Michelle’s hold and stumble forward, getting a clear view of the masked man I spent my entire night falling apart for.

Oh my God.

It really is Elliott Cross.

But…but when did he get all those muscles? And all those tattoos? And how did he…why did he… This isn’t the same boy I knew in high school…not by a longshot.

We lock eyes, and my body apparently doesn’t really seem to care who the face under the mask belongs to, because electricity courses through me. Every touch, lick, taste, bite, scratch from the night replays in my mind, but this time, Eli’s face is there instead of the mask.

I expect revulsion to rewrite the memories…

Instead, I’m absolutely mortified by the fresh wave of want that swirls somewhere deep.

Brett and Riley team up this time, the two of them going after Eli with no remorse. Even with his knife, he’s hard-pressed to hold his own against the two athletes who have pure hate pumping through their veins.

“Stop!” The scream leaves my lips before I can help it.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, mentally kicking myself for the outburst.

A baseball bat comes flying out of the sky and hits Brett square in the back before bouncing onto the dirt. It rolls, not stopping until it bumps against the toes of my shoes.

A tattooed hand reaches out to pick it up, and I follow the line of the muscular arm until I’m met with two faces. They’re the other masked guys from earlier, Fake Phantom and Gym Phantom. They take in the scene, and it creates a new hum of biting energy.

“Thank fuck. Now I can take this thing off.” Gym Phantom rips off his balaclava, tossing it to the ground. “Can’t fucking breathe with it on.”

Fear ripples throughout the remnants of the crowd that has gathered to watch the reality show we seem to be putting on.

I go stock still, the realization of the danger beside me freezing every muscle in my body.

Sebastian, aka Bash, aka the one dude everyone within a hundred miles knows not to fuck with.

He attended the public school in town but wasn’t a stranger at Almont Prep.

He is one of Eli’s childhood friends, and he almost sent the guys to the ER junior year.

There are rumors about the people he’s put in comas and left permanently damaged.

Bash is a monster who lives up to his nickname.

The rest of the crowd disperses once they get a look at his face.

“Here.” Bash passes the baseball bat to Fake Phantom before charging into to the fray, landing two quick punches on Riley before I can even blink. “Shoulda stayed in the trash where you belong,” he barks. “I can’t guarantee your nap won’t be permanent this time.”

The four men begin an all-out brawl, punches and kicks flying faster than I can track.

Most of the damage is being dealt by Bash, forcing Riley and Brett to give most of their attention to him.

I catch the glint of the balisong fold into the mix, and the brutality of the scene brings me to my knees, the hard dirt biting into my flesh.

“You okay, little Blair?”

Fake Phantom crouches down next to me, peeling off his mask, but I already know who’s underneath it.

Felix.

With his cheeky smile, relaxed posture, and bright blond hair that sports a fresh undercut, you’d think he is a harmless tech kid.

But everyone has heard the story about how he snapped and almost killed his history teacher with a baseball bat freshman year.

He was expelled from Almont and ended up at the public high school with Bash.

He presses in closer, squinting his eyes. “You seem a little pale.”

Bash has Riley pinned to the ground, smashing his face into a bloody pulp.

A splatter of blood flies from his knuckles through the air, and I feel the hot liquid pepper my skin.

I’m numb as I touch my cheek, trying to get rid of the blood but only succeeding in smearing it.

Crimson stains my fingertips and nausea rolls through me.

I hastily wipe the blood on my outfit, dark red staining the baby blue.

“Fuck,” Eli grunts as Brett’s knuckles collide with his face and split his brow, blood trickling down his already bruised skin.

Brett lands another hit, and Eli drops to his knees. Worry overtakes fear as I watch him line up for another merciless hit. Just before the punch connects, the balisong blade slices out in a horizontal arc, cutting through Brett’s thigh.

“You fucking pussy,” Brett spits.

Eli slices him again, and again, until Brett takes a few steps back. With the blade still clutched in his grip, Eli wobbly brings himself back up to stand. The two stepbrothers face off, malice dripping from their souls.

Felix lets out a dramatic sigh and rises to his feet, swinging the metal bat over his shoulder. “How much longer are they going to take?” He looks back down at me. “Do you think I should jump in? It should speed things up, but…” His gaze returns to the brawl. “Bash said it’s too risky.”

There’s a high-pitched scream.

Michelle races forward to Riley’s limp body, every inch covered in cuts, bruises, and blood.

Panic radiates as she shakes his shoulders but receives no response.

I should probably be more concerned for my ex, but I’m not.

D’Andre nudges her aside so he can drag Riley’s body away from further fire.

But there’s no need. Bash gives his neck a crack as he slowly stalks to stand beside Eli.

I blink slowly, realizing that there’s only us remaining. Everyone else cleared out except for the drunken partygoers who still bump and grind inside the old barn, too lost to the loud music to realize everything going on outside.

Eli’s dark gaze collides with mine, and every bone in my body screams at me to run.

I’m a rabbit caught in the wolf’s den. I wandered in looking for warmth, only to get trapped in a massacre.

He smirks, paying no mind to the blow Bash just landed on Brett, his focus solely on me as he flicks his blade upside down and runs his tongue along the handle.

My pussy pulses, the traitorous, fucked up bitch she apparently is.

I need to get out of here.

Now.

I push to my feet and sprint away like the scared little rabbit I am.

I have no plan in mind other than putting distance between myself and Eli. I need space to screw my head back on because, right now, I am a complete mess and I don’t know how to handle it.

“What did I say about running away from me, Blair?”

Eli’s thinly veiled threat sends a shiver down my spine, but I keep urging my feet to move forward.

“If you step one foot into that corn maze, there’s no going back. You better run like your life depends on it, princess. Because the second I catch you, I’m not letting you go until I fuck you. Understood?”

My steps falter, but not out of fear…out of the fresh wave of arousal that turns my thighs momentarily into jelly.

I should be terrified that this man who stabs people for fun is chasing after me. But the sickness inside lights up at the idea of being stalked through the tall maze. I didn’t have a plan before, but now I do.

I don’t back off. I keep going…right into maze.

The corn stalks are a solid five feet taller than me.

I’m completely closed in on all sides. The late fall weather has turned everything differing shades of beige; only a few of the leaves hold onto their green color.

Stray hanging pieces of the plants whip against my shoulders as I race down the narrow paths.

I’m not even sure what time it is at this point. It has to be past three in the morning. Everyone knows nothing good happens after 3 a.m., and that more than describes my current situation. Hazy darkness engulfs the maze, the flood lights only reaching so far through the thick stalks.

I realize a little too late that I have no idea how to actually get out of this maze, nor do I know how big it is.

Eventually, I hit a dead end.

Shit.