Page 161 of The Unravelings

“Maniac! Maniac!” Some cheer while others shout Huxley’s full name with pride.

Mack grins at the crowd, holding up a free hand to settle them down. “The time has come! Huxley Crewes and Malic Monroe have ten minutes to dress and meet in the ring. The countdown has begun. Fighters… Do your damn thing,” he chuckles loudly. “And bets are still being placed back here where I am. Last call to get your bets in.”

And with that, he drops the microphone onto the table and lounges in his chair again, observing the crowd with a critical eye, stopping when his gaze finds mine. I swear his head tilts as he looks me over again, but JJ—thank fuck for him—taps him on the shoulders and gets his attention.

This is getting to be too much. I swear I’m fucking drowning here. Only there’s no water, and I desperately need to get my act together before I face Malic and try to do the impossible.

God. What was I thinking?

Doubt sinks her ugly claws into me, making me want to run for the damn hills and never return.

“Hey, I gotta hit the bathroom, but afterward, you guys want to move closer?” I ask over the hoots and hollers of the crowd that goes wild, waiting for the fight to begin.

“The-the best idea yet!” Simon says enthusiastically.

“Careful,” Daniel says with sincerity. “We’ll wait here for you, okay?” There’s a slight concern in his eyes as he watches me take a step toward the bathroom and leans over to whisper in Simon’s ear. Simon blushes slightly and sags into Daniel with his eyes falling halfway closed.

“You, too,” I say, furrowing my brows and darting my gaze to Daniel, who gives me a careful nod.

I take a deep breath as I walk away from them and through the disappearing crowd as they move closer to the ring, trying to get the best spot when the next fights start. Near the bathrooms, no one is really hanging around. So, I go inside and quickly do my business, thanking God I can go into the women’s restroom, where it’s not as disgusting as the men’s. Oh, and no period this time! Because I’ve taken about all I can take with men and their gross bathroom habits. I mean, come on! It’s not that hard to hit the toilet every once in a while.

Fuckers.

As I’m washing my hands, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and halt my movements at the sight of her.

“You got this,” I murmur to myself, grabbing a paper towel and drying my hands.

I blow out a breath, noting my makeup still covers every inch of my face and scars. It’s so odd to see myself as someone other than myself. Or Oliver. I’ve gotten used to looking at my reflection and seeing a man look back at me. But this? This girl? This isn’t me. Hell, even the old Olivia wasn’t me. Every time I look in the mirror, I wonder who is really looking back at me. A secret agent? A broken fucking vessel? Me? The real me? I’ll never truly know. I’ve been pretending for so long; sometimes it’s hard to come back from that and recognize the real me.

“You totally have this,” I murmur again, stepping away from the mirror and squaring my shoulders and lifting my chin.

Counting to ten in my head, I finally force the panic into the secure box in the back of my mind. I’ve got this. I can do this. I can watch Malic fight and then… Well, I don’t fucking know. I’m an agent of the fucking law, dammit. Not a seductress. I’ve only had to do it a few times before. I was a stripper once, for fuck’s sake. I seduced people with my barely there dance moves. But I still did it, damn it!

So, this should be cake.

Right?

So, no more freaking out, Liv. Go out there, maybe flash some side boob to get him intrigued, and then convince him he should take you back to his place.

Easy peasy.

With all those thoughts running through my mind, I swing open the bathroom door and nearly stumble over my feet at the sight of him standing there. Malic. Waiting. With wild eyes, taking in every inch of me. Slowly. Heated. His teeth sink into his bottom lip the second his gaze connects with mine.

Like a monster waiting for his prey to emerge so he can pounce.

Shouldn’t it be the other way around?

“Fuck,” I breathe more to myself than to him, unable to hold my thoughts inside like I normally do.

I so don’t have this. I’m fucked. So, utterly fucked.

“Little Ghost,” Malic murmurs, tilting his head. “You’ve returned to me again.”

My face heats. “H-how did you?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Little Ghost. It’s what he called me in the bathroom at the bar. It’s like he knows exactly who I am. But he can’t, can he? There’s no way he can look at me now and know I’m Oliver. That we’ve talked before.

My heart slams into my ribs again. All the cool and calm I had finally found in the bathroom is now long gone, spiraling me into the abyss. In slow, methodical steps, he stalks toward me with intent swirling in his eyes.