“Exactly. He’s worried about you.”
I didn’t have time to process that when I heard the first punch. The sound was like a paddle slapping the surface of the water.
My gaze shot to the ring, as did Mars’s and the conversation about Killian liking me dropped as we stared transfixed on Sculpt and Hannibal.
I didn’t know whether to be mortified or fascinated by the fight. My heart pounded and knees trembled as I leaned against the wall for support.
The atmosphere was electric and deafening as they went at each other. I knew nothing about fighting, but it was obvious Hannibal was getting tired as he threw punch after punch at Sculpt, who easily dodged them and threw in the odd fist to the side of the head or gut.
I winced, and the crowd hissed when Hannibal got a good shot into Sculpt’s cheek and sent him back a few steps. He lifted his head and blood dripped down his cheek from the cut Hannibal just wielded.
But it wasn’t the blood that had me worried; it was Sculpt squinting his eyes and staggering. The next blow Hannibal dealt to the side of his head sent Sculpt sideways, then to his knees.
“Oh noooo,” I cried.
My stomach curdled, and I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.
“Look,” Mars said, “he’s getting up.”
I grabbed her hand and squeezed, holding my breath as Hannibal approached the downed Sculpt.
But he never got a handle on him because Sculpt swung hard and fast as he leapt to his feet and didn’t stop.
Hit after hit.
I looked away, and my eyes darted to Killian instead standing next to the ring, his expression calm and focused on Sculpt.
I hadn’t expected to see him calm, especially during a fight. But it was as if the crowd, the blood, the excitement, everything vanished and there was a quiet stillness in him.
And it was beautiful. He was beautiful.
I realized that the anger he carried with him ate away all his beauty. Physically he had it, but this was different. This was the beauty inside him.
I released my breath as I watched him and then as if he sensed my eyes on him, he turned.
Our eyes locked, and there was an intense craving to have him next to me. I’d never had it before, but I knew what it was.
I liked him. Shit, I liked Killian Kane.
“Police!” There was a horrendous bang as the doors of the basement burst open.
I gasped, eyes widening.
Screams wrenched the air.
My eyes shot back to Killian and he mouthed, ‘Stay,’ and then he headed for us. But within seconds, the crowd swarmed him as they scrambled to get out of the basement.
“Oh, my God, Sav. Shit. My parents will kill me if I’m arrested,” Mars yelled. “We have to go.” She yanked on my hand.
“Killian. He said to stay here,” I argued, but she was already dragging me into the herd of spooked people.
“Yeah, well he doesn’t know my parents.”
She didn’t know his. I could only imagine what Mr. Kane would do if his son was arrested for being at an illegal fight. It would be the talk of the country club.
We were caught up in the herd and shoved through the door of the stairwell. I looked over my shoulder for Killian, eyes searching.
I couldn’t see him. All I saw were blue uniforms swarming the place.
We ran up the stairs to escape the building, but suddenly everyone scrambled in the opposite direction. The police were coming through the doors at the top of the stairs, too.
“Shit,” Mars yelled.
Someone pushed me from behind. My knees hit the edge of the stair and I cried out in pain. People hurdled over me, and Mars blocked them from stepping on me as I tried to get up, but I kept being pushed.
A hand grabbed my elbow, and with one jerk, I was hauled to my feet.
Killian.
“I told you to fuckin’ wait,” he growled. His gaze went to my knees and for a moment there was a flicker of something other than anger. “There’s another way out.”
He locked his arm around my waist and I clutched Mars’s hand as we headed back to the basement. It was easier pushing through the herd because Killian was like a bulldozer.
We veered right as soon as we were in the room where we started, and there were people lying on the ground, hands on their heads and cops handcuffing them.
Oh, my God, we were all going to be thrown in jail. I’d never even had detention before.
Panic swarmed.
Killian’s palm slammed into a door that said storage and he dragged me into the darkness.
“There’s a vent,” he said as he led us to the back of a large room with numerous floor-to-ceiling metal shelves.
The vent cover was already on the floor. “The other fighters already went through. We always check escape routes.”
“Sculpt?” I asked.
“Don’t know,” he said. “He was looking for you and Mars.”
God, we should’ve stayed where we were.
Light filtered into the storage room as the door opened. We were out of sight, but footsteps headed our way.
“Go!” Killian hissed.
Mars leaped into the vent, and I went in after her, but Killian didn’t follow.
I peered over my shoulder as he replaced the vent cover. “Killian!”
“Fuckin’ go,” he said.
“Police. Stay where you are!”
I held my breath, watching as Killian put his hands up and moved away from the vent.
No.
“On your knees. Hands behind your head,” the officer said.
Killian.
I hadn’t slept all weekend worrying about Killian. On Monday I didn’t see him and Mars’s brother said he wasn’t in class.
On Tuesday, I finally saw Sculpt after English. I ran down the hallway after him and grabbed his arm, not even thinking that it may not have been smart to “grab” Sculpt.
“Killian? Where is he? Is he okay?” I asked.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a hundred-dollar bill and put it in my hand. “Here.”
“I don’t want the money.” I tried to give it back because I didn’t do anything, but he refused.
“Take the money,” he ordered.
“Where is Killian? Is he okay?”