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Fuckme and my stupid fucking temper—
Fists rained down on me, pain shooting through the left side of my head. Then my lower back. Then my legs. There was no strategy to their attack, just to overwhelm.
Andgoddamn,did it work.
I was forced to my knees, unable to keep up with the assault on my already battered body. I tried to swing at the faceless men around me, tried aiming for their groins, even tried grabbing onto their arms to sink my teeth into… but there were just too many of them.
I didn’t stand a chance.
Punch after punch was aimed at me. I got a few in myself, but then my arms were pulled back, stopping me from making contact and keeping me open to their assault. But I didn’t let that stop me. I jerked my body and head back viciously, fighting even if it was futile.
That was the thing about Legacies—we never knew when to fucking quit.
Winning was in my fucking genes.
I will make it out of this.
“Hey!” a familiar voice shouted over the chaos. “If I see that fucking Wolff brat in the middle of this goddamn mess, there will be more than one body dropped at their father’s feet tonight.”
Just like that, their hands were off me. My muscles burned as I fought the urge to crumple to the ground. Each breath ached worse than the last, my vision blurred with blood and swelling.
Fuck, I probably had a concussion.
I rolled my shoulders and lifted my chin, putting on a brave face. That was the worst thing about shitbags like the Jackals, if they thought they’d broken you, things would only get so muchworse.
Fuck, Idefinitelyhad a concussion.
Terrance pushed through the crowd. His dark eyes simmering with anger as he took in the mess they’d made of my face. He commanded the room without any words. As soon as his eyes drifted toward the men, they scurried away like the rats they were.
“Game pre-registration starts in two weeks. Which one of you idiots wants to tell Hiram that you busted up his kid’s face before press photos?” Terrance asked, striding forward purposefully, his lacquered boots crunching the gravel beneath. He stopped in front of me, crouching to my eye level with a frown that caused something to shift inside me.
I’d never much cared for my father’s disappointment, but hishurt. Terrance wasn’t somebody I was forced into a relationship with because of my parentage. I’d chosen him.
And I’d let him down.
“I gave you this job because I like you, kid. Tell me why this is thethirdfight I’ve found you in?” His tone wasn’t condescending, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like the scolding that it was. Like a parent who’d found out that a child had gotten a C on their geometry test.
“I wouldn’tgetinto fights if the worthless goons you hired didn’t get a hard-on at the thought of a human punching bag,” I spat, trying to ignore my bruised feelings.
Terrance frowned and looked back at Billy, his broad frame largely supported by his men.
A dark satisfaction curled in my stomach when I saw just how bloodied and wrecked his face was.
That’s right, you fucked around and found out, asshole.
I wouldn’t be delivering the final blow, I knew that. It was all Terrance. But at least my punches would make a painful memory for him. I wasn’t the scrawny brat I was a few years ago, even if I had a long way to go.
I made a mental note to up my protein intake. I’d need it if everything else went to shit and I actually had to enter—
“They were shorttwo hundred!” Murphy yelled, shakily pointing a finger at me. “I was teaching them a lesson.”
“Come here and try again,” I goaded, not caring anymore about fucking myself out of future jobs. Terrance was going to cut me—I already knew it from the look on his face when he arrived.
Might as well get a few final digs in before I disappeared.
“Wipe that fucking smirk off your face, Kohl,” Terrance snapped.
I hadn’t realized the smile had made its way back until he mentioned it. I carefully schooled my features into a look of mild apathy, steeling myself for what came next.
