Drake glares at the kid.
The coach picks the kid up by the collar. “You’re benched for the rest of the season,” he tells the kid, who gives a pained expression. Then the coach turns to me. “Are you going to call the cops and press charges?”
Looking down, I narrow my eyes at the kid. “I don’t know. If he learned to keep his hands off of girls that don’t want him, then I’ll let it go,” I reply. He nods, grabs the kid by the underarm, and lifts the kid.
“What’s his name?” I ask the coach, leaning back into Drake’s chest.
“Daniel Greenburg.”
I nod and turn to the kid, crouching down. “I want you to listen to me carefully, Daniel,” I lower my voice to a dangerous tone, forcing him to look at me. “I won’t press charges if you only go for girls that agree to be with you. No means no, kid. If I ever find out you try to do this again, I’ll come back and finish what I started,” I tell him. He nods, the movement like a bobblehead, and I stand up, turning to the coach.
“Call an ambulance,” I tell him, “And let’s get this game going.”
He pulls out his phone and calls the ambulance while the rest of us filter out to the field. A few players carry Greenburg to the bleachers. I rush down the hallway, my eyes scanning the doors until I find the one labeled NURSE’S OFFICE. I jiggle the doorknob, and it clicks open. Good.
Making my way in, I look around and find the materials I need for a splint; gauze, a hard piece of plastic to keep his leg straight, and tape.
Once I have everything, I run back to the field and the kid. He’s sitting on the ground by the bleachers with a frown pulling his lips down. The pained wince that crosses his face makes me sigh. “Sit still,” I instruct, crouching down. I examine his leg and move it, making him yell in pain. I can hear the people on the field shouting at me, but I ignore them.
Quickly, I put the splint on and wrap the kid’s leg. The entire time I’m working on his leg, he glares at me. After, I stare him in the eyes. “I warned you, and you didn’t listen; this is no one’s fault but your own,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, making me glance up. “My- I didn’t realize it was wrong. My step-dad…” he trails off, looking away. Dang.
“Just don’t do it again, kid,” I tell him, “If there’s something bad going on at home or if your step-dad is hurting someone, you know it’s wrong now. Tell someone.” He nods, his eyes downcast again. Hopefully, this will be a chance for him to change for the better.
The sound of sirens fills the air as an ambulance pulls into the school parking lot. The paramedics rush over and set their gurney down. “What happened?” They ask, looking at me.
“Broken leg.”
~*~
“We won! WOOOOO!” Mason hollers as he walks into the kitchen. Ever since he made the winning goal, he’s been hooting and hollering. He admitted to me that he didn’t know if they’d win since Greenburg was one of their best players, but I told him to play and not to worry about winning. If you’re doing something you love, winning or losing shouldn’t matter. He took my advice and played his best, leading his team to victory.
“I knew you could win without the help of that little jerk,” I remind him, hopping up onto the kitchen counter. He smiles at me. “Thanks, Thea.” I smile in return as I watch him make some sandwiches.
My text tone dings from my back pocket, so I pull my phone out. Ray’s name flashes on the screen. I slide my phone open, and the message pops up.
Ray: Fight tonight at nine against Bulldozer. Bring your boyfriend. He fights you.
Me: Be there soon.
I send the response, but he doesn’t reply. Sighing, I hop off the counter and make my way into the living room. The guys are on the couch, playing Xbox, so I walk over and stand in front of the TV. Each protest with groans and shouts. I chuckle and announce, “I have a fight in an hour, and Drake, you have one after me.” They all immediately stop trying to look around me.
“When did you find this out?”
My attention goes to Drake, and I hold up my phone. “Ray texted me and told me,” I tell him, then turn to the others. “So, if anyone wants to come, we’re leaving in forty-five minutes.”
Not bothering to stay with them, I turn and leave the room. I can feel someone, probably Drake, following me while I walk up the stairs. I enter Drake’s room and glance over my shoulder, confirming my guess; he followed me. I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s his room, and he has to get ready too.
Sighing, I walk over to his window and climb through. “I’ll be back soon.” We still haven’t gotten all of my stuff out of my house, but Drake told me it wouldn’t be long. Not having my things at his place is annoying, especially when I constantly have to climb back and forth. I should’ve moved my stuff when we moved Mason in, but everyone was so tired.
We’ll have to fix that soon.
Finally, I make it into my room and shuffle to my closet. Searching through my clothes, I find a top I haven’t worn in a while and get dressed.
I tug my shirt off and slip on the black, lace-up crop top. Leaving my black shorts on, I go to the bathroom to do hair and makeup. I keep my makeup light with neutral colors, and I pull my hair into a French braid. I complete the outfit with hidden wedge, black sneakers back on.
Now that I’m dressed, I head back to the window and climb through. I land in Drake’s room with a thump, and his eyes widen when he turns around. “Hell, you’re not wearing that, are you?” He exclaims, “I can deal with crop tops, but you’re practically showing every inch of skin. No.”
“You done?” I ask, and he glares at me.
“Do you know how many people- how many guys- will stare at you?! You’re mine,” he practically growls. Possessive. Interesting. My lips pull up into a smile, and I walk over to him. His heart pounds against my hand when I lay it on his chest. He blows out a breath, looks down at my hand on his naked chest, then looks into my eyes, “You’re mine.”
I nod and lean forward, gently pressing my lips to his. He immediately responds, dominating the kiss and pulling me close. He expresses frustration and need through the roughness of the kiss and moves his lips down my chin to my neck. His lips slide across my neck, pressing soft kisses and nibbles to the spot where my neck and shoulder meet.
So. Hot.
I’m not kidding. The possessive grip of Drake’s hands, the small bites between kisses, and the growl that rumbles from his throat are knee-wobbling.
After a few more kisses, he pulls away and gazes down at me. “You’re mine, and now they know it,” he says, possessively pointing to what I assume are marks on my neck.
~*~
“And your winner is Cinder Wolf!” The crowd goes wild.
You’d think someone with the name Bulldozer would be… well, a bulldozer, but he was pathetic. He went down in two minutes and actually tapped out. Sucker. He’s angry, too. Mad that he got beat by a girl, but that’s nothing new. Many of the guys who fight me think they’ll be the ones to beat me, but that’s never the case. It’s pretty funny, especially since most of them have seen me fight before. I mentally pat myself on the back, proud.
Smiling, I make my way out of the ring and to the money counter. I collect my winnings and head over to the table where the guys are. They congratulate me on my win as we turn our attention to the next fight, Drake and some new guy. He looks familiar, but he hasn’t fought me.
The bell dings, signaling the beginning of the fight. Drake’s opponent, Death Strike, moves first. He throws a punch at Drake, and I automatically know that Drake will win. This Death Strike guy is sloppy and impulsive. He didn’t take any time to study his opponent. Thus he threw his arms out, letting them flop around like limp noodles. He’s no match for Drake, who is precise and trained, the exact opposite of Death Strike. It’s disappointing.
“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” I tell the guys. They nod, still watching. Shaking my head, I stand up and head to the back rooms. I prefer to use the fighter�
�s bathrooms because they’re less crowded.
As I enter the fighter’s quarters, a chill runs up my spine. I search the area yet find nothing out of place or unusual. The hall is empty. The locker room door is closed- nothing out of the ordinary. Rubbing the back of my neck to get rid of the hair-raising feeling, I walk into the bathroom. After I’ve taken care of my business, I walk out and immediately run into someone. “Hey, baby,” the man’s voice says. He’s tall, muscular, and a fighter if the tape-wrapped fists are any sign.
“What do you want?” I ask, trying not to sound nervous. I don’t recognize him, so he’s an unknown element. He smirks and takes a step towards me. I stand my ground, not showing him I feel anything from his movements. Quickly, his hands come up and grip my arms.
“I’ma take you to my boss.”
“Not today, arsehole,” I growl, lifting my foot and kicking him in the family jewels. He grunts in pain and releases my arms. With my newfound freedom, I slam my fist into this face, resulting in a crack. I smirk as he groans in pain again, falling to the floor. Suddenly, two more hands latch onto my arms, and I whip my head up to see two equally large men.
I struggle, trying to twist out of their increasingly tight grips. “Let me go!” I yell, trying to kick them, but failing. One of them slaps a hand over my mouth, but it’s not just a hand. Something rough and material. A sweet smell enters my nose. Sweet? What- I hold my breath, remembering what my dad told me about chloroform. He said it would smell sickeningly sweet. No way am I getting kidnapped again. I throw my feet out, trying to kick at them again, but busted-nose-guy grabs my feet.
As I struggle, my throat burns, and my eyes water. On instinct, I suck in some much-needed air. However, as soon as I do, my vision blurs, and my limbs become heavy. I keep trying to fight, but with the chloroform taking effect, it’s too hard. I try to yell, but my voice comes out muffled and weak through the rag.
“Goodnight, little fighter,” one of the blurry men says as my eyes fall closed.
~*~
I wake with a gasp and sit up, banging my head on something. Groaning, I lay back down and lift my hand to my head. Pain sparks where I touch, and my fingers come back wet. Blood.
I try to move again without hitting my head, but a searing pain runs through my leg. I whimper. My left thigh has blood on it too. To keep from feeling more pain, I try to stay still as I can while searching the darkness. Panic rises in me when I find walls all around me, sealing me into the tight space. There’s hardly enough space for me in here… wherever here is.
I’m going to kill those guys. Who the hell do they think they are?
Laying here, I realize my senses are still a little fuzzy, so I try to concentrate. I can’t see anything, so I focus on my other senses; it smells like gas. I feel the crusty carpet under me. I hear nothing except my breathing. Meanwhile, something digs into my back, so I reach under me and yank the object.
My phone. YES!
I move my phone, so it’s in front of me, and feel for the home button. When my fingers find it, I pray that my battery isn’t dead. The screen lights up, and I almost cry out in happiness. Immediately, I look to the top right corner to see there’s only eight percent battery. Seriously? Why didn’t I charge my phone before I left for the fights?
My happiness deflates as I shine the light at my surroundings. There’s metal above me, carpet below, the backs of car seats beside me, and taillights on the other side. They put me in a freaking car trunk!
As I turn, wincing at the pain in my leg, I notice a piece of paper and a black rose taped above my head. I pull them down and read over the words on the note.
Athena,
Here ya are again. How long will it take to find ya this time? If they do at all. You better hope that they find ya before ya bleed out.
V.
Why would he want to taunt me like this? If he wanted to get rid of me, why wouldn’t he just do it?
Huffing, I drop the paper and look back at my phone. Three percent. I pull up Drake’s name and click call. “Please pick up,” I plead, biting my lip.
After three rings, he picks up, “Athena, where are you!?”
“Car trunk!” I yell, “You have to hurry, I’m bl-!”
Before I can finish, my phone darkens and dies. For a second, I stare into the dark as my eyes fill with frustrated tears, then I begin pounding my fist on the trunk.
Chapter 27
Athena
Moving my hands around in the dark, I frantically feel for a way out. I have to get out. I can’t wait for someone to get me. Not like last time.
My fingers skate across something cold, and I startle a bit. I squint to see if I can make anything out, but it’s too dark, so I let my fingers see for me. They run over the cool metal of what I touched, and the longer I run my fingers over the object, the more I realize I know what it is.
A car jack.
I close my fingers around the metal and try to move my body a bit, but stop when shooting pain moves up my leg. It’s not the worst I’ve felt, but it’s not great. I think I’ll need to get it checked, but I’ll know more when I look at it. A whimper escapes my mouth as I force myself to keep moving, pushing through the pain. I groan and finally stop once I’m on my left side, facing the trunk opening.
After being trapped in a trunk years ago, I researched different ways to get out just in case. I didn’t think I’d ever use the information, but now I’m thrilled I prepared. Slowly, I place the jack at the crease of the trunk door. Once it’s set, I twist the handle. It’s difficult because of the cramped space, but eventually, the jack cranks and struggles against the trunk lock's weight.
I continue to twist the lever, and finally, with a loud snap, the trunk pops open. I let out a relieved breath as light filters in. “Yes!” Pushing myself out of the space, I hold in a yell when my leg hits the side of the trunk. I hiss at the shooting, burning sensation that travels from the wound as I slowly lower my feet to the ground with a groan of pain. This is getting old.
When I get home, I’m taking a long, long nap.
As soon as I’m out, I lean against the car and peer back into the trunk. A small hand towel lies near the opening, so I grab it. It’s difficult, but I tear the towel in two pieces and tie them together, then tie them around my wound. Not ideal, but it’ll work for now. I bite my lip at the pain that surfaces from tightening the towel.
I take a few calming breaths before looking around. The street sign tells me I’m only a couple of blocks from the Underground fight ring. At least these guys didn’t take me far. Though, they said they were taking me to their boss. Did they change their minds? Or maybe something halted their plans.
Slowly and carefully, I limp my way home. The pain spreads through my leg, throbbing like it has a heartbeat, and I wince with every step. I pass a few people, but they don’t help me, and I don’t ask. I know they wouldn’t help.
I get a little farther and stop, leaning against a wall. My breathing is heavy, and my leg is throbbing. Black spots dot my vision. I only hope I can make it all the way home without passing out. I can’t stay here long, so I take a deep breath and push off the wall. If I just stand here, I won’t get home.
A few minutes later, I pass the Underground and look for any sign of my friends. I don’t see their cars or bikes, and I don’t see my bike. A groan of pain and frustration erupts from me, and I continue walking. I push through the stabbing pain in my leg and look down. Blood seeps through the towel, so I guess the towel isn’t helping that much. Maybe if I’d tied it tighter.
There’s nothing I can do now, though. I don’t have time to redo the makeshift bandage.
I make it past a few stores before I have to stop again. My vision blurs, telling me I’ve lost too much blood. I need to rest. Blinking a few times, I keep going. I’m only a couple of blocks away from Drake’s house, and if I can make it there, then I’ll be okay. At least, I think I will be, assuming that they’re home and not out scouring the city.
&nbs
p; Lights fill my vision, and again, I blink a few times as the car passes me. I make my way onto the sidewalk, knowing that Drake’s house is only a block away. I tuck the pain into the back of my mind and run; well, it’s more like a limping-run, but I’m moving faster than I had been.
Soon, I’m stumbling into Drake’s driveway. Jason’s squad car is in the driveway, which distresses me and fills me with hope at the same time. Hopefully, he’s there for me and not for the boys. I hobble up to the porch and grab onto a column as more black dots fill my vision. Before I can take another step, my legs give out, sending me to the ground with a thud.
Drake
“Where is she?!” My voice echoes through the room. All eyes turn to me as I pace across the living room. As soon as my fight ended, I looked for Athena, but I couldn’t find her. I knew something was wrong when no one knew where she was. It’s not like her to disappear like that. She would’ve at least told Mason where she was going.
“Jason is almost here,” Mason tells me, and I growl. Athena should’ve been safe. She should’ve been okay, but she wasn’t. She isn’t. At first, I blamed my friends for not looking out for her, but we all know she’s a great fighter she is. For her to be missing like this, something terrible must’ve happened. My mind fills with scenarios- multiple attackers, weapons, injuries.
Groaning, I continue pacing, my feet taking me to the other side of the room as I rub my bruised knuckles. When Athena’s panicked call cut off, I punched the wall in fear, anger, and frustration. The guys had to pull me away so I wouldn’t hurt myself.
A knock sounds at the door, and I lunge for it, pulling it open as my hand lands on the handle. My hope gets smothered when my eyes land on Jason. He nods and moves into the house, an angry yet worried expression masking his face.
“What happened?”
“She disappeared. I think they took her. She called me and said she was in a car trunk. She didn’t get to finish her sentence because the phone cut off,” I tell him, running a hand through my hair. All the guys look to Jason for his answer. “What are we gonna do?” I ask, looking at him. “I tried to call her back, but she didn’t answer.”
Not So Cinderella Page 25