Page 109 of Forgotten Rules (Rules 4)

Will sees the bruise.

And loses it.

“So young to die. Oh, well,” he quips, gripping Chinese food’s shoulder to spin him around and crashing his fist into his jaw without blinking.

A wave of “Oooh” streaks across the dance floor as Simon’s friend stumbles backward, nearly losing his balance. He looks dumbfounded at how fast this all went down. Chasing his composure, he looks up at Will, ready to say something, but his words trail off in an instant.

He blinks once.

Twice.

His lips part.

“No fucking way…” He blinks. “Will?”

Do they know each other?

The shock in Will’s eyes echoes my doubts. That’s recognition right there.

“Will, let’s just go,” I beg.

“Good to know you still have the same type, Martins,” Chinese food spits blood.

Wait, what?

“Shut up, Dixon,” Will barks.

They do know each other.

“What? Blonde, tight ass? You going to bullshit me and say you don’t see it? She’s a spitting image of Lyla.”

Lyla.

Who the fuck is Lyla?

Will threatens him with a step forward, and I skip into his path to stop him.

“Will, stop. Please. Let’s get out of here. Please,” I beg, but he pays me no mind, attempting to walk around me once more. The whole point was to stay under the radar tonight, and when I see two bouncers pushing through the crowd to reach us, I know we managed to do the very opposite.

“Oh yeah. Just like that. Give me a good look, baby.”

I see a camera flash and turn to find Dixon snapping a picture. He checks his phone screen, satisfied with the shot.

Realization finds me.

He just took a picture of my ass.

That’s what does it.

Will pounces, tackling Dixon to the floor and pummeling his face with hooks so powerful the crowd gasps in terror. Taking notice of the fight, people scatter, giving them space to kill each other. The music climbs in volume, the bass in strength, making this moment all the more dizzying. Simon and Dixon’s friends don’t dare intervene, watching Will beat their buddy to a pulp. Dixon is barely fighting back, covered in blood.

The bouncers reach us a few seconds too late. It takes two of them to get Will off Dixon. One yells at Will to get the hell out of the club while the other helps Dixon to his feet, asking him if he’s okay. It makes me sick to my stomach, but they’re right. Will threw the first punch. For all they know, Dixon is the victim here.

Will yanks his arm out of the bouncers’ grasp, telling him he knows the “fucking way out” and walking away.

But just before he dashes to the door…

He takes my hand and drags me along with him.