Page 84 of The Devils They Are
"Alright, Monday," Tai concedes, staring at me as if I've suddenly spouted two heads and turned green. "But no more funny business."
"Fuck yourself with a cactus, Beckett," I whisper angrily, clearly still not in control of my temper as I grab my bag, abandoning my now-cold cheeseburger. "Arch, start spreading the word. I'll take care of the rest."
Chapter thirty
Hunter
"Areweallsetfor tonight?" I ask Perkins.
The man is utterly useless at the best of times, except when it comes to causing a distraction. Or stealing things. I'm not sure how he manages the art of theft so well when he was called 'Butter Fingers' all last season. Seriously, they resemble Twinkies. You'd think having such large fingers would make for steady hands to catch a football, but until this year, it was an ever-loving miracle that he was even first string on the Willowbrook Wolves football team.
After our little encounter with Duchess today, I knew I would have to take charge of things. I'm not sure what's gotten into Rylan and Tai, but clearly, they still want to take a step back with things.
That can't happen.
They will thank me later. Once I can prove that Spencer is nothing more than a snake, it will become apparent that the only reasonable tactic is total destruction. The longer we let those Cedar freaks have any type of power, the harder it will be to regain control.
We're on the verge of a crumbling empire and I'll be damned if I lose everything I worked hard for. Dad agrees as well, and with his blessing, I'm going to make sure tonight is one to remember. It's time to make them fall into line once and for all. I'm tired of this bullshit charade, pretending we're co-existing in peace. It's all an act. The other two might not be able to recognize what's happening in the background, but I can.
People are questioning things—us. Word is filtering down the grapevine, making its way back to parents and alumnus members. The board is demanding answers, and someone even had the nerve to ask Dad if his son was even capable of being in charge. And of course, he's quick to remind me that my status reflects directly back on him.
Rylan and Tai have easily forgotten that even though we earned our place, there's still people who would be happy to see us get burned alive and take our spot. Every decision affects all of us. Which is why I need to do this. I'm saving all of our asses.
"Yep," Perkins confirms, handing the warehouse key back to me. "The new cage looks fire. I wouldn't mind having a go tonight."
Sighing to myself, I pocket the key, hardening my expression. "Maybe next time. I need you on call tonight. And remember—don't breathe a word of this to anyone."
He nods in resignation, but the idiot has no idea what's in store for him if he steps into the ring. His ego wouldn't last two minutes. I've tried to explain to countless people that there's more to fighting than just throwing punches. We need to win the fight card tonight, which means playing smart. I've just finished the list and have to meet up with that guy who follows Bexley around everywhere like a pathetic little puppy dog. We'll exchange lists, taking a copy of the matches and opponents.
Part of me wishes that I was handling this directly with Bexley, but for whatever reason, she's opted out of the meeting.
She can only run for so long though. And now that I've set a trap for her, she'll regret ever stepping into Willowbrook territory.
"Are you sure you want to do this?" I ask for the fifth time.
Rylan alternates between stretching and bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Of course. What's wrong, H? Don't trust me to secure a win?"
"You know I do," I retort. "I just figured you'd want to be on the sideline when Spencer fights."
We're in one of the many rooms at the side of the warehouse. I assume it used to be an office judging by the power points and worn-out desk. Fighters use the rooms to get ready before a match. There's three on each side of the warehouse main floor, and we're in the end one of our set, waiting for his fight to begin.
Rylan probably thinks I'm doubting his ability by asking repeatedly. But in foresight, my question extends to a bigger picture.
He just doesn't know it yet.
Tai enters the small room behind me, holding two bottles of beer. He passes me one, grinning at Rylan. "You inspired me, Ry. I placed a bet."
"Odds on me, I hope."
"Nah, I bet against you. Kidding," he adds when Rylan stops bouncing and throws him a death glare.
I'm surprised that Rylan hasn't wagered his own bet. The man has a serious gambling problem. Though, is it a problem if you always win? He's ruthless—always playing the odds and analyzing every possible scenario. It's at the point where he can usually tell you the outcome before something has even begun.
Flicking the top off the beer, I take a swig, leaning against the wall. "You're up against someone called Steele Turner."
"Bexley's fuck buddy," Rylan answers. "We saw him at the beach."
"I thought he looked familiar."
