Page 210 of Blackwood

Ellie scoffs. “Fuck The Row. This is The Obsidian. And it’s ours for the night for Bella’s twenty-first birthday. On fucking Halloween, Cade!”

Bella’s eyes go wide and I swear even Lex winces. The idea of Ellie Whitmore unleashed with that kind of venue and theme? Yeah, no one’s surviving this.

Cal strolls over, catching the tail end of her screech. “What’s this about The Obsidian?”

Ellie spins on him like a hurricane in heels. “Bella’s birthday. There. Halloween night. Cancel everything. I need your guest list by tomorrow.”

Cal lifts a brow, hands in his pockets like he’s not fazed at all. “Great. We’ll be there.”

Lex mutters beside me, voice low and lethal, “Fucking perfect.” Like the words themselves taste like blood and bile on his tongue. Bella grabs his hand before he can spiral.

“Just like that,” I say, looking at Cal. “What about your big Row party?”

Cal shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I’ll just bring them all to you, Bells.” He winks and strolls off.

Lex blows out a breath and shakes his head. “This is gonna be a goddamn disaster.”

“Costumes!” she screams, dragging Bella away. “We need costumes!”

“If she puts me in tights again, I’m burning the building down,” Lex says as we watch them walk off.

“Think we’ll survive this?”

He huffs. “Only if there’s vodka. A shit-ton of vodka, Cade.”

Chapter 59

BELLA

Ashmoor Hall - Wexley University

708 Days Since Zeke’s Death

After competitions, it’s basically tradition. A full lock down at Ashmoor Hall. No spectators. No distractions. Just us, the mirrors, Knox, and Javi with his clipboard of doom. He calls itRefinement Week. I call itsoul murder with an 8-count.

We’ve spent the entire week picking apart Regionals, getting new assignments for Nationals, and drilling every single number until we bleed perfection. Once Javi’s satisfied, he’ll let us back into the basketball arena for public practices. Cue the groupies, the chairs, the photographers, and most importantly… Lex and Cade.

Which is exactly why Lex has been insufferable this week. Every day he gripes about being ‘banned from the building’. That it’s ‘not fair’that Knox gets to come inside when he and Cade don’t.

And no matter how many times I try to explain to the man that Knox has been our tech-guy-slash-manager since day one, Lex still acts like he’s being personally victimized by the dance gods.

“Just let me stand in the corner, baby. I’ll be quiet. Silent. Mute. I swear on my dick,”he whined to me yesterday as I was trying to head into Ashmoor Hall.

In his defense, he’s under a lot of pressure at Northvale. The Hollow Kings’ Donor Fight is tomorrow night and things have been tense. Rez and Lex both have a lot riding on it. Rez has been shielding him from most of the politics, but Lex still carries it. I see it in the tight set of his jaw, the weight in his shoulders, he’s stressed.

And while technically I’m just supposed to be there to dance, let’s be real, I’ve had my hands in this thing since that first Fight Night. Rez wanted a Row-level spectacle in The Pit and that’s exactly what we’re bringing.

The Trifecta has performed at every Fight Night this semester. Lex thrives on it. Says it’s the reason he’s still undefeated this season. Every time I step out in one of Rico’s custom sets withProperty of Lex Barinovacross my chest, or every time I strut past the edge of that ring and catch his eyes, he turns into something feral.

He says I flip a switch in him, that watching me dance before he fights makes his blood sing. That I’m his own personal war cry. The rhythm of my hips is the reason his fists find their mark.

He’s insane, but it’s kind of cute.

Knox runs the lights and announces the show now like it’s his full-time job—barking cues through his headset, stealing the damn spotlight with every intro. He calls usThe Knockout Queens, which Lex fucking loves, and somehow always times the bass drop to hit the exact second our heels hit center ring.

Tomorrow’s Fight Night could make or break everything for The Hollow Kings. Rez wanted big names this time. Brutal ones. Fighters with international pull and a reputation for blood. No more college athletes or frat boys pretending to be gangsters. He wanted the kind of men whose names make people scream.

And for that, he came to me.