Page 102 of The Unravelings

“I guess so,” I say, shrugging.

“Hmmm. Will you be attending the fights soon?” He eyes me with a sparkle in his eyes and a grin crawling across his lips.

“The fights?” My brows furrow for half a second before I realize what the hell he’s talking about.

I’ve been so wrapped up in everything, I forgot the fights at the Coliseum happen at least once or twice a month. There’s no way I could show up now, though. Mack would have my ass paired against him without a single regret. Not that I couldn’t take him. I don’t want to, even though I could do the same to him as I did to Brutus. One punch and he’d be out.

Malic pulls out his phone and taps a few times, bringing up the SlamApp. My mouth dries out when he brings up the pictures taken of me, beating the snot out of Brutus. Phantom pains shoot through my healing ribs at the reminder of his cheap shots.

“Your last adventure in the ring was very successful. See? They’re calling for you to come back. Even Brutus has his eyes on you.”

I swallow hard, reading the post that calls me the future fight night champion of Greenwood U. Several commenters claim I could take on Huxley, Mack, Malic, Wilder, and come out on top. They call for me to come back and prove myself.

But no thanks.

I don’t want to prove myself. I want to finish this mission and be done with it, so I never have to face JJ again. Or them. He can tell my secret after I’ve disappeared back into the Veritas bunker.

A deep pressure presses against my chest, and I rub at it. I want the truth, though. Don’t I? I want to know if JJ’s confession had any truth to it. I’ve already investigated the fire.

My head is so messed up. I’m continually unraveling with all the revelations I’m dealing with. Is this what Jonathan really wanted? For me to get to the bottom of my demise? Or is he simply using me to bring Franco down like he knows I want to? Whatever his reasoning is, I’d like to know.

“Nah. One fight was good enough for me.” I wave a hand, dismissing the invitation. There’s no way I’m stepping foot in the Coliseum as Oliver. Maybe Claire, my go-to fake name. But not Oliver or Olivia. “So, uh, are you by chance throwing any more parties soon? Last night was a blast.” I raise my brows, trying to show my enthusiasm, but I must have looked pained.

He blinks a few times at me, tilting his head. “That’s too bad you won’t fight again. I quite enjoyed watching you,” he says in a sultry voice, drawing my attention back to him. “And no, we’re closed for business. My keeper insists we need to focus on our studies instead of strippers and booze. Party pooper,” he huffs, folding his arms, but there’s no heat behind his words.

So, great. His house isn’t open for more parties anymore. Maybe breaking in is back on the table. I know that psycho has my glasses, and I’ll find them one way or another. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

I study the hard lines of his face. The faint scars aren’t apparent until you’re under the fluorescent lights. The slight blond stubble across his jaw. The freckles that dot his nose and the intensity of his crystal blue eyes.

There’s something about Malic that calls to me. Like before. Something that pushes me to climb him like a tree, continue our one-night stand, and make it a more permanent thing.

But I don’t.

Fucking Malic would ruin everything I’ve established here. If I thought concealing myself before was getting hard, it would be impossible with him around.

Something shifts in the air the moment Malic sits stiffer in his seat, erasing the easy-going persona he had only moments before. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end when he zeros in on someone.

“Bingo,” he mutters under his breath through gritted teeth. Everything about him hardens. His expression. His muscles. His massive fingers curl into fists, and he zeros in on the woman sauntering toward us, none the wiser to the threat sitting beside me.

“Malic?” I murmur, not daring to touch him to get his attention.

“Until next time, Oliver Davenport,” Malic mutters, standing abruptly and towering over me. “Soon,” he mutters under his breath, turns on his heel, and waltzes toward the front doors, but doesn’t leave the building completely.

Malic positions himself in the shadows and locks his eyes on Dr. Lohr, now standing before me with a friendly smile on her face. Observing, like he said he was. Interesting. Why is he observing her? He said he was here for the blood, but he’s not watching the students anymore. His focus is solely on her, zeroing in on her every move.

Interesting…

29

Olivia

“Are you ready, Oliver? There’s an open seat with your name on it.” Dr. Lohr grins, gesturing to an empty seat across the room. I nod in agreement, standing from my chair.

“Off already, Wade?” Dr. Lohr asks Wade as he rounds the sign-in kiosk with a determined expression, and he stops abruptly in front of us.

“My time to leave, Doc.” He grins, shaking her hand, and turns to me. “Thanks again, man. I’ll see you later. Probably tomorrow. I’ve got a date tonight.” He beams at me as he walks past, waving at us before he disappears through the front doors.

A date? So, he was looking at his phone because of someone. Huh. I guess I never figured Wade was the dating type. Seems too busy doing stuff like this to have time to date around. I guess I’ll have to ask him how it went later and try to uncover who he’s seeing.