Yeah. I should take care of Tate next. He’s already quaking in his boots, I bet.
I tap my pen against the page and grin.
“Let’s find out how to make you suffer, Tate,” I whisper.
6
RIVER
My fist collides with Fenrir’s side.
I’d celebrate, but the blow barely even phased him. I didn’t think it would—that’s why I asked Fenrir to be my sparring partner. Even though he’s still pissed I chose to pledge at Kappa Alpha instead of Eta Epsilon Lambda, we’re still on the same boxing team.
I need somebody who can keep up with me, who can take all of my blows without going down in two hits. The sweat drips down my forehead, and I swallow around the mouthguard as I get into a defensive stance.
Fenrir sends a beautiful uppercut at me, and I admire the form for a split second before I raise my arms to guard myself against it. Even though we’re only sparring, Fenrir isn’t going easy on me, and I grunt through the pain of the blow.
We keep trading punches back and forth. I lose myself in the rhythm of the fight, letting the movements wash all my thoughts away.
It’s working.
It’s mostly working.
Until some guys start laughing behind me.
“Jesus, that’s brutal,” one of them says. “Play it again.”
“Right? I can’t get enough. It’s a trainwreck.”
My vision goes hazy, and this time it’s not from Fenrir’s blow.
I am so tired of hearing people going on about what happened to Pandora. Whether it’s sharing pictures or videos, they can’t seem to stop.
I’m tired of it.
I end up taking a blow to the arm as I turn, and Fenrir says my name as I storm over to the edge of the training mat. I spit out the mouthguard, not caring that it lands on the floor.
My hand has fisted inside my boxing glove, and I slam it directly into the shoulder of the guy holding the phone. The phone clatters to the concrete floor.
“What the—” the guy raises his arms to block my next blow, but he’s no Fenrir. I send him flying.
I get ready to attack him again, but his friend gets in the way, and somebody pulls on my shoulders.
“River!” Fenrir yells, his grasp tightening. “Calm down!”
The guy who’d landed on his ass on the mat gets to his feet, giving me a wide-eyed stare.
“What the fuck was so funny?” I snarl, struggling against Fenrir’s hold. “Aren’t you tired of it yet? Everyone’s seen it by now.”
The guy I’d punched rubs his chest. “What? It got posted yesterday. This dude’s car just rammed right through the fast food window.” He grabs the phone and holds it up. A vid is playing, one where a big SUV crashes through a window on loop.
It’s not Pandora.
It has nothing to do with Pandora.
“What the fuck, asshole?” his friend demands. “I hope somebody shatters your femur.”
They both glare at me before heading toward the locker room.
