Page 21 of Kortlek

C ove wins.

What a shocker.

He wins both rounds.

I’m not sure if Blair’s the happiest, given that she didn’t lose her money, or Rose, who was cheering on him loudly. I tried to match their enthusiasm, but it was pointless. I was twenty minutes late to the beginning of his first match, and I haven’t been in the best mood.

Cove’s apartment is a bit loud. Blair and Arlo are talking in the corner, but they’re not being quiet. Blair’s speech is a little slurred from the alcohol, and Arlo has his arm wrapped around her waist. If he pulls her any closer, they’ll mold together.

Literally.

Rose’s next to me, chatting and blabbing about how her first underground fighting experience was. I’m trying to listen, to engage in a conversation with her, but her words come in one ear and leave through the other.

My eyes dart over to Cove.

He’s standing by the window, leaning against the wall and staring into the dark night. His hair’s wet from the shower, a few droplets falling down his face. He’s wearing those grey sweatpants of his, and it’s really hard not to look at his crotch area. I’m trying, though.

The thoughts of Wyatt resurface. They haven’t truly left my mind since I’d seen him a few hours ago, but they’re more present now than ever. I fiddle with the end of my hair, idly playing with it, staring at the empty wall beside Cove.

I’m not sure if I’m more scared, or am I feeling utterly pathetic and useless.

He was right there.

I could’ve handled the situation. I could’ve beaten the crap out of him. My phone was in my pocket. The least I could’ve done was break his leg and call for Arlo. I should’ve done something, anything.

Instead, I froze in fear like a fucking coward.

And the fear isn’t leaving. It snuck its way into my bones, and I am tempted to look over my shoulder to check if Wyatt is here. It’s maddening. It’s insane. I’m not sure how to handle all of this. I want to tell them, but I know they will be worried sick. Arlo and Cove will probably go ballistic, too.

But the longer I keep it to myself, the worse I’m feeling.

I take a deep breath.

“Hey, guys?”

Blair and Arlo stop talking, their attention shifting to me. Blair raises a brow, knowing that I’ll drop the bomb on the bugs and hidden cameras. Arlo’s expression isn’t telling me much, just that he’s waiting for me to speak.

Cove, on the other hand, moves from the window, sipping on his whiskey. He sits on the other side of me, and now I’m sandwiched between him and Rose. His eyes burn into the side of my head; my hands shake slightly as I open my mouth.

“Blair and I found hidden bugs and cameras all over my apartment.’’

Cove tenses beside me, eyes narrowing at me. He shifts his body at an angle to give me a better look, and once I look at him, I see that he’s pissed. Not just angry that I didn’t tell him as soon as I found the hidden devices, but angry that they were planted in the first place.

Arlo jumps out of his seat and basically pushes Rose from her seat. She doesn’t object much, getting up and sitting next to Blair. Arlo slumps into the seat next to me, and I feel strangely uncomfortable with this whole situation.

“What?!” Cove exclaims, his tone raising an octave.

“When was this?” Arlo’s voice is calmer, but one glance at him and I see that his patience is holding by a thread. The said thread is very, very thin, and he’s close to losing his shit.

“Four days ago,’’ I admit.

Blair is sitting silently, deciding to stay out of this conversation. She leans in her chair, observing Arlo’s face closely. My brother is getting angrier by the minute, and Cove isn’t better, either. If looks could kill, Wyatt would be dead.

Because neither of them has to ask who set up the devices. They already know.

“Have you saved them?” Arlo asks. “It could help tracing it back to him.’’

I nod. “Yeah, I put it in a safe space. I’ll give it to you later, but…’’

Both Cove and Arlo wait for me to continue. My heart is hammering in my chest, my hands trembling. Crippling anxiety bubbles in my body, the overwhelming fear causing a lump to form in my throat. My palms are sweaty, and no matter how much I wipe them against my shirt, the damp feeling doesn’t go away.

“Tonight… I saw Wyatt,’’ I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

I don’t dare to look at either man. Instead, my eyes are glued to the floor, the sight in front of me starting to blur as tears swell in my eyes. The silence stretches on, making it seem worse. I’m scared.

I’m scared of Wyatt and what he’ll do to me.

I’m scared of Arlo’s reaction — of seeing the look of pure guilt on his face again. He cried only once, and it was because of me, for me. It’s not something I want to see ever again. None of this is his fault; if anything, it’s mine.

I’m scared of Cove absolutely losing his shit and dealing with Wyatt before I’m ready. He’s not someone who will be patient with strangers, even less with the likes of Wyatt. Yes, he’s patient with us, but no one else is blessed with the same patience.

“When and where?” Cove asks. His voice is low, words slowly rolling off his tongue. I don’t miss the hint of a threat in his voice. It’s not directed toward me, which is a relief. Sometimes, it’s scary how dangerous this man can be.

“Right before your first match,’’ I sigh.

“Details, bunny,’’ he demands.

I take a deep breath and retell everything that happened. Blair’s mouth is open a little, shocked that I didn’t tell her immediately. Rose, just like my brother and Cove, is silently listening, absorbing the information, and trying her best not to snap.

She may be short, but she’s a spitfire.

I would not want to get on her bad side.

“Did he say explicitly what he wanted?” Arlo asks, standing up and pacing around Cove’s living room. He’s deep in thought, brows narrowed together, shoulders tense.

I shake my head. “Not explicitly, no. He doesn’t know. Or he knows and won’t say it outright. He probably has a plan.’’

Cove stands up, anger radiating off him. His broad shoulders are rigid as he pours himself another glass of whiskey. He’s waiting until we’re alone to speak to me, and for now, he’s keeping quiet. But I see the worry; I see the rage in his body language.

“You know,’’ Cove mumbles, looking directly at Arlo, “This is all your fault.’’

Arlo freezes, his pacing around the room coming to an end. It takes him a second, then his head snaps in Cove’s direction. “What the fuck did you say?”

“You heard me.’’ Cove snorts. “It’s all your fault. Banishing the motherfucker, really?”

Arlo gets up in Cove’s personal space, a menacing glare in his eyes. “Aria is my little sister. She begged me not to kill him, so I didn’t. She would’ve hated me if I’d killed him. What would you have done?”

“I would’ve killed the bastard.’’ Cove lowers his voice, grasping for straws to keep his temper in check, “Not only would I have killed him, but I would’ve made an example of the motherfucker. I would’ve taken his head and hung it at Times Square for everyone to see. Because I’d rather have Aria hate me and be safe than die loving me.’’

That does it for Arlo. He swings his fist, but Cove’s quick to dodge it. Blair jumps out of her seat; however, Rose’s hand wraps around her wrist, pulling her back. Rose’s trying her best not to look excited, but the prospect of a fight is getting her giddy.

Cove swings his fist, hitting Arlo’s jaw. Blood explodes from his lip, but he acts like it doesn’t hurt. Instead, he aims for Cove’s ribs. I’m unsure whether it’s because of the ungodly amount of alcohol Cove’s had since we came to his place, or because he was tired after winning two matches, but Arlo lands a hit, a solid one at that.

Cove growls, shaking his head, and the fight continues. My hands itch by my side, wanting to break them apart. However, I know better than to get in between two grown-ass men throwing hands. It will end with me getting a bruise or two, so I let them handle it themselves.

My heart aches for both of them. I hate seeing them hurt, and I hate even more seeing them hurt each other. But they don’t stop, not by a long shot. Cove grabs Arlo by the collar and smashes him against the glass coffee table.

The table breaks, and Arlo hisses in pain. He doesn’t back down, though. He punches Cove straight in his face, and as soon as I see blood dripping from Cove’s nose, my breath hitches.

“Stop it!” Blair yells, struggling, though without success, to pry herself from Rose’s grip. The two don’t stop, and it takes them a while. Their breathing is labored and heavy, and it’s clear they’re both tired.

Two stubborn morons.

Neither wants to back down.

“She’s right,’’ I sigh, leaning back into the couch. “Stop it. This is insane.’’

Cove freezes when he hears my words and steps back from Arlo. My brother, on the other hand, wants more. I throw him a sharp glare, which he returns with one of his own. He contemplates his options for a moment, then gets up and sits next to Blair.

“Stop acting like kids.’’

Blair tends to Arlo’s wounds back in the living room. His back is messed up because of the blow of the glass, though it’s nothing serious. He’ll live. Rose’s cleaning up the mess, humming a song. She’s overly happy that she got to witness a fight.

The girl is weird.

I like that about her.

The door of Cove’s bedroom closes behind me softly. He’s sitting on the bed, face clean of the blood, the dirty towel tossed next to his feet. With a sigh, I approach him, standing between his legs with the first aid kit.

“This situation feels awfully familiar,’’ he grunts.

With a snort, I flicker his forehead. “Don’t piss me off, or I’ll shove my fingers into your wound again.’’

His hands come to rest on my hips, and he finally lifts his head to meet my eyes. His lip is bruised, split in one spot. Arlo’s ring cut through his cheek, leaving a nasty cut. It’s not deep, and it won’t need stitches, but it still requires some tending to.

A low chuckle comes from him, and he shakes his head. “It’s alright. Can I be honest?”

“Always,’’ I mumble, putting on a pair of latex gloves and grabbing a cotton pad, soaking it with disinfectant.

“The night in the locker room when you put your fingers in my wound,’’ he pauses, slightly wincing as I dab in the cotton pad, thoroughly cleaning the cut.

“Yes?”

“I jerked off to that.’’

I pause, pressing the cotton pad firmly into his cheek. My eyes search for his. He’s dead serious. There’s nothing that would indicate he’s joking. No, the motherfucker is a hundred percent serious.

A loud laugh comes from me.

“You did what?!”

He nods. “I’m not into pain. Well, not to be the one on the receiving end. But you were so fucking sexy.’’

I raise an amused eyebrow at him, smirking lightly. “I think you may be into pain a little more than you think.

He grips my hips firmly, pulling me closer to him. In a swift motion, I toss the cotton pad aside, straddling his lap, my arms wrapping around his neck. He softly kisses my jaw, sending a jolt of electricity down my body.

“I’m always open to testing it, bunny,’’ he murmurs.