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Ava grinds her teeth, but she stares ahead, too.
Brandon has been so engrossed in the fight that he hasn’t moved an inch. Hell, he’s been so silent that I’d forgotten he was here in the first place.
“Leave her alone,” Ava finally grits out.
A cruel smirk curves Eli’s lips. “I have a few things to ask Annika. It won’t take long.”
The two of them glare at each other, or more like Ava does, while he keeps that perfect smirk in place.
I’m distracted away from whatever is going on between them, because something’s changed in the ring.
The crowd goes wild and it’s because Creighton has backed Nikolai in a corner.
Punch.
Punch.
Punch.
His expression has turned savage as he plows over and over. Nikolai bursts out laughing, maniacally, not even attempting to protect himself.
I catch a glimpse of Bran lifting his hand to his nape and tugging at the short hairs so violently, I wince.
The harder Nikolai laughs, the more savage Bran’s hair pulling turns.
The referee announces that Creighton has won by points. REU’s crowd goes crazy, shouting his last name.
Cecily claps. Bran turns around and leaves without a word.
Eli and Ava are still in that weird stance that even made her lose focus on the fight—and that says something since she’s the most enthusiastic about these types of scenes.
I throw a glance behind me and gasp when Creighton jumps from one of the ring posts. He completely ignores Remi and Landon and jogs in our direction.
The crowd parts for him, and some slap him on the back while others attempt to shake his hand. He pays none of them any attention. His sole focus is on me.
There’s a cut on his lip and his face looks like that of an underworld lord who’s fresh out of a battle.
“Oh, hi—” Whatever I had to say dies in my throat when he grabs me by the waist and slams me to his side.
Creighton’s voice is clipped at best as he glares at his brother. “Stay the fuck away from what’s mine.”
And then he drags me out of the club.
16
ANNIKA
“Hey, slow down…”
I practically jog to keep up with Creighton’s wide strides. We fly past the gaping students who are probably as shocked as I am by his actions.
Or maybe it’s because he’s half naked, his honed muscles on display and only shorts hang low on his hips.
Even though I’ve never come to watch any of his fights before, it’s a known fact that Creighton King is a reigning champion. His detachment is his power and the reason he won last year’s championship and has won every match since.
So to have him lose his cool at the end of the fight must have looked like some sort of blasphemy.
His grip on my wrist forbids me from entertaining the thought of fighting. All I can do is keep up—or try to. When I remove my sunglasses to see better, they fall to the ground, but he doesn’t let me pick them up.
