Page 37

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

Skylar

Crap.

I hiss as the smoke billows over the pan. Turning the gas off, I try to swipe at the air, but it only takes a few seconds for the kitchen to be filled with smoke. The alarm goes off, and I nearly drop my pan in my haste to turn it off.

Fuck me, I just wanted to make Cassius some dinner.

Breakfast as dinner is his all-time favorite, so my plan was to prepare scrambled eggs, pancakes, hash browns, and toast. The toast went just fine, albeit a bit more toasty than when he does it, but still edible. The eggs are on the dryer side and the hash browns kind of look like hockey pucks, but I tried my best!

It’s these damn pancakes that are giving me a run for my money. How the hell does Cassius cook them without the batter immediately burning into the pan? It’s that weird kitchen magic I’m always saying he has. He’s just that good.

Or maybe I’m just that bad?

Nah…

I hear the tell-tale sound of the deadbolts unlocking and quickly run to the window to air out the kitchen before Cassius can see what I’ve done. If I’m going to profess my undying love for him and ask him to be my “for real” boyfriend, I can’t have that in a smoky kitchen.

I barely get the window unlatched before I hear steps behind me. Plastering on my best puppy-dog eyes, I turn on my heels. “Cassy! I was just— What the actual fuck !”

All thoughts of my disastrous dinner go out the open window as I take in the sight before me. I’ve been scared many times before in my life, but I’ve never had my heart stop.

Not the way it does when I see Rhys and Knox carrying in a badly beaten Cassius.

Rhys and Knox each have an arm under each one of Cassius’s armpits, holding him up as he stumbles to walk. There are white bandages covering his entire torso, but deep purple blotches peek out from beneath the edges. His fists are disgustingly bloody and cracked. His face…

“Oh my God! What happened!” I shout, racing across the apartment to meet them at the door. “Cassius!”

It’s just now that Cassius tips his head up, and I’m allowed to see the full extent of the damage that’s been inflicted on him. There’s a deep, raging cut right under his left eye that looks like it’s been crudely stitched together. His nose has white tape over it and is obviously swollen. Just under his jaw is another angry red mark. I can already tell that in a few hours, his face is going to be unrecognizable.

“It’s not that bad,” Cassius croaks, even though when Rhys goes to adjust his grip on him, he cries out. “I got the money.”

“T-The what?” I stutter as the guys bring him over to the couch.

“This.” Knox raises a hand that does, in fact, hold a wad of cash. “Fucker risked his life for this.”

I eye the cash with wide eyes. I’m so confused and out of sorts. I can’t take in all the information being thrown at me while trying to focus on the fact that Cassius is fucked up.

“Five grand.” Cassius lets out a hiss as he sits down.

“I told you it was a dumb idea to let him fight again,” Rhys snarls, narrowing his eyes at Knox.

Again ? My heart starts to race and my stomach drops. The understanding dawns on me that this has been something going on behind my back. I start to sweat as my hands shake, and the itch to scratch my arms is strong.

Knox’s jaw drops. “Am I supposed to be everyone’s fucking keeper? Cassius is a goddamn adult who can make his own idiotic decisions.”

It’s just too much. Everyone’s fighting. There’s five thousand dollars in front of me. Cassius is hurt.

“There was no reason for him to?—”

“ Enough !” I scream as I fall to my knees in front of Cassius. “Someone needs to tell me what the fuck is happening right now! Did someone do this to him at the gym?”

My question is met with an eerie sort of silence that’s entirely disconcerting. Knox’s face pales. Rhys looks away. Cassius winces. It’s all very suspect and completely guilt-ridden. Suddenly, my worry is replaced with a nagging sense of dread.

“Guys,” I repeat slowly. “What happened at the gym?”

Cassius’s eyes flick to Knox and then Rhys. When he stays silent, Knox is the one to speak up. “It’s time, man.”

“Time for what?” I ask as I snapping my head to Cassius. “Cassy, what is it?”

“There is no gym.”

“No gym…” I trail off, shaking my head. I stare at Cassius like I don’t recognize him, because I don’t. If there’s no gym… “You’ve been lying to me?” I look at the other two. “And you knew?”

“We were staying out of it,” Rhys says, a hint of regret in his voice. “I’m sorry, Skylar.”

“We didn’t think something like this would happen.” Knox pinches the bridge of his nose, something akin to agony in his eyes. “You could have been killed , Cassius. You’re my friend, and I can’t believe I stood by and almost let that happen.”

Killed .

The word rings like a struck gong in my head. Apologies break out around me, but I can’t focus on that, because the sickening thought echoes and bounces off the corners of my mind until everything else fades. “Get out.”

Knox stops short and cocks his head. “What?”

“I said, get out,” I repeat, steadying myself with a hand on Cassius’s knee.

“Skylar,” Rhys starts. “We’re here for you two. We want to help?—”

“ Get out !” I roar, shooting up and spinning on my heels to face Rhys and Knox. “If you want to help, get the fuck out of my apartment before I throw you out!”

I’ve never shouted like this. I’ve never experienced this type of utter terror. It’s terror laced with confusion and wrapped up in a paranoia bow. There’re too many things going on, too many pieces to put together, and I just need one goddamn second of silence. They must know I’m not kidding, because they throw one last look at Cassius stepping out of the living room.

Now that it’s just me and Cassius, I decide to give him a few seconds so I don’t kill him. I’m not even sure where to start. Do I hug him and thank all the mythical gods for keeping him alive? Do I strangle him with my bare hands for lying to me? Do I cry? God , I just want to cry.

I keep my tears firmly lodged in my sockets and inhale deeply. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

He shifts uncomfortably on the couch, a look of pure guilt on his face. “I’m not too sure where to start.”

I cross my arms over my chest and huff as I stand. “Figure it out.”

He opens and closes his mouth, hesitating for a moment, before his next words come out as a whisper. “We’re okay, right?”

God, when he puts it that way, it’s impossible for me to stay mad. Especially when he looks so pained, beyond the physical pain he must be feeling. I cave like I always do and slump down on the couch next to him. Taking his bruised hands, I drag them onto my lap. “Yeah. We’ll always be okay, Cassy, but that doesn’t mean I can’t be royally pissed at you.”

That’s the truth. We’ve been through too much to ever let anything break us. We’re committed, for better or for worse, and that’s never going to change.

After a moment, when he realizes I’m not going anywhere, he sighs and hangs his head. “I started street fighting a couple of months ago.”

“Like in the movies?” I ask, wrinkling my nose as I try to picture it.

He snorts. “Kind of. It’s more like an underground sort of thing. People know, but they don’t know , you know?”

Um, no. I absolutely do not, but it’s not the time to pry into the logistics of operating an underground fighting ring. The burning question hasn’t been asked yet. Not the one that will ultimately explain this entire thing. “Why?”

“I was trying to build our future. It was real money they were offering. I wanted us to be safe and protected.”

To this, I scoff. “That’s bullshit.”

He raises his eyebrow in question, almost looking shockingly offended. “Excuse me?”

“You know why you did it. Whether you want to admit it to yourself is another thing entirely.”

Cassius does not do things willy-nilly. There’s absolutely no part of him that’s impulsive and reckless. Every decision he makes serves a purpose, everything carefully weighed. It’s not me putting him on a pedestal this time; it’s just the way it is. He knows. There’s a reason he got himself in this mess. Him saying it was for money, when we get paid plenty, is a lie.

“Are we going to sit here and play twenty questions, or will you spit it out?” I ask, growing a bit irritated.

He closes his eyes and drops his head back against the couch. Cursing to himself, he drags his hand down his face before saying the words that nearly shatter me.

“It was because of you.”