Beyond Vengeance: Pacific Prep #3

by R. A. Smyth

  “What if we had our own fight night afterward?”

  I see the second he misinterprets my words, lust flaring in his eyes as they dilate. “You want me to pin you beneath me and fuck your brains out, Little Warrior?” he growls in a sexy as fuck husk that has my panties growing damp.

  “I’m not going to say no to that.” A coy smile plays on my lips as I lean in toward him, crossing my legs in such a way that my foot deliberately runs up his calf under the table. “But that’s not quite what I was thinking. The six of us could have our own exclusive fight club after everyone else has fucked off. That way, no one can witness any of you get your asses kicked by a girl.” I smirk, shrugging a shoulder innocently, like it’s no skin off my teeth if he says no. He’s not going to say no, though.

  His eyes sparkle in exhilaration, more than ready to rise to the challenge I’ve just laid down. “The six of us?”

  “Beck too. He usually comes to watch the fights. I’m pretty sure he could even give you a run for your money,” I jibe.

  “Ha, I’d like to see the old man try.” He laughs, making me shake my head at him. Beck’s only like three years older than us. Certainly not old by any definition.

  “So you’re game?” I ask, delight threading my voice at the promise of violence.

  “Little Warrior, I’d agree just to watch you throat punch Hawk again. That was fucking priceless.”

  A grin lights up my face as I laugh. Yeah, that was pretty fucking epic.

  “Speaking of the asshole, where is he?”

  “Ah, we usually have lunch at our place, away from prying eyes, so I figured I’d come get you.”

  When my food arrives, I get a to-go box for it and the two of us leave the inquisitive eyes of the dining hall behind us as we head for a quiet lunch with the others.

  Chapter 7

  There’s a buzzing under my skin and I’m on edge, bouncing on the balls of my feet as we make our way toward the clearing in the forest. Blood and violence are exactly what I need after the last few days of being gawked at like a fucking zoo animal. I miss being a fucking nobody. I’ve been feeling stifled, suffocated under everyone's attention and this newfound fame. But it’s nothing a sweaty brawl can’t rectify.

  “You have the same excited look on your face that other girls get when they find the perfect pair of shoes.” Cam laughs.

  “It’s been far too long since I’ve been in a fight, and beating on a bag hasn’t done anything to shake off the annoyance from the last few days.” I’m bouncing on the balls of my feet as we silently tread through the forest.

  “You just killed a mercenary the other week,” Hawk argues.

  “Yeah, but I’ve had to put up with your shitty attitude,” I quip. “It would make any sane person crave an outlet for all their pent-up aggression.” He snorts like I’m being melodramatic, but it’s not like he had a personality transplant. He might not hate me anymore, but he’s as cranky and dickish as ever. “Just be thankful I haven’t taken it out on you yet,” I say sweetly, fully intending to change all of that tonight.

  He grumbles something under his breath that I’m sure would only piss me off, but I get distracted as we enter the clearing. West gets to work setting up flashlights, spacing them out so they form a large circle, while Hawk and Mason stretch.

  “How did all of this start?” I ask, looking around the ring. The glow from the flashlights makes it look eerie and ominous, and a shiver of anticipation rolls down my spine. “Is it another tradition?”

  “When we started at Pac, our parents made it clear we had to prove we could control the other students. Some sort of bullshit about proving ourselves capable of taking over for them when we graduate,” Cam begins. “Technically, that is the tradition. Our forefathers started the girl of the month tradition to control the girls and keep them in line, and there have been various methods used on the guys.”

  West takes over as he walks back toward us, having placed all of the flashlights around the clearing. “We decided scheduling regular fight nights where the guys worked out their issues with one another would fit best for us.”

  “What if someone breaks the rules?”

  There’s a malicious grin on Hawk’s face. “They fight us.” The dark thrill of excitement in his voice tells me he gets off on inflicting pain just as much as I do. I wonder if that’s a Davenport thing, or a ‘kids with fucked up lives’ thing.

  “Like with Deke? When he called you out at that party, then Mason fought him in the ring.”

  “How did you know about that?” Hawk questions, looking up at me from where he’s bent over at the waist, stretching out his hamstrings and lower back.

  “It was the first fight I snuck out to watch. It was hot as hell.”

  Mason grins darkly, throwing me a dirty wink that immediately drenches my panties.

  “Exactly,” West nods, getting us back on topic. “It only took a few fights back in freshman year before the rest of the guys realized they didn’t want to be on the other end of Hawk or Mason’s fists.”

  “Smart,” I praise. “And the girls would do whatever you wanted, because they thought they might get a chance of being a girl of the month when senior year rolled around,” I say thoughtfully, voicing my thoughts aloud.

  “Yup.” Popping the p, Cam confirms my line of thought.

  “What are you going to do about them now, then? The girls aren’t happy after your little speech yesterday. It won’t be long before you have an uprising on your hands. And I’m guessing any grievances amongst the students will get back to your parents.”

  “Us?” Hawk laughs darkly. “Oh no. We”—using his finger, he points at himself and the others—“are in charge of the guys. You are now in charge of corralling the girls.”

  “Me?” I gape. “You must be fucking crazy. I have no idea how to keep those pretentious bitches under control.”

  Hawk—the infuriating fucking dickhead—shrugs, evidently not giving a shit.

  “Seems only fair,” he says. “Everyone’s gotta prove themselves. And if our parents think you can be useful, they’re less likely to retaliate to our little rebellion.”

  Fuck, he has a point there.

  “Fine, the girls can have a fight night too. I’m more than happy to beat the shit out of Bianca and her princess posse.”

  “Fuck yeah,” Cam hoots. “Everyone has to wear bikinis and we’ll get a mud pool.”

  “Unless you’re also wearing a bikini and rolling around in mud, then that’s a hard no,” I snark, rolling my eyes.

  “I mean, if that’s what you’re into.” He gives me a playful wink. It’s the most banter I’ve gotten out of him in a long time, and it’s great to see him getting on like his old self. He’s still awkward when it’s just the two of us, but around the others, I can almost pretend that there isn’t so much tension between us.

  “There’s no way that will work with the girls,” Hawk argues, tearing apart my fantasy of pummeling the ever-loving shit out of Bianca. Spoilsport.

  A less exciting but just as satisfying idea comes to mind. “Do you guys keep dirt on the other students?” I ask.

  “Of course we do.” Hawk’s ‘duh’ tone grates on my nerves, making me scowl at him. “Why?”

  “I have an idea. I need to see what you have, though.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll get them for you later,” West promises as the noise of students approaching starts to permeate the otherwise still evening.

  It’s not long before a crowd has formed around the makeshift ring. It looks like every boy in the school is here, and I don’t miss the confused glances my way. I don’t think they’re used to seeing a girl present at these things. The clearing is silent as everyone looks at the five of us—well, the four guys—waiting expectantly for…something. Do they ring a bell or beat on a drum or something as some sort of commencement signal?

  “This is supposed to be guys only,” Deke calls out, glutton for punishment.

  “She’s one of us,” Hawk
states in a non-negotiable tone. “She has as much right to be here as we do.”

  “If we’re done with the stupid questions,” West drawls, “we’re here to fight. So someone get in the ring.”

  Everyone hesitates for a moment before a freshman steps forward. He calls out another freshman, explains his issue with him—apparently the other guy slept with his girlfriend. Personally, I’d be taking issue with the girlfriend, but whatever. Then the fight begins. It’s all rather…civilized.

  They’re stick-thin freshmen with no meat on their bones or muscles to pack a punch, so the fight is pathetic. I know ten-year-olds that could have them unconscious in seconds. Still, the atmosphere as the other guys egg them on is enough to ease some of the buzzing under my skin.

  The fight doesn’t last long before another one begins, and on and on it goes. I lose myself in the thrill of it. In watching blood spill as lips are split, the redness that rises to the surface of skin as any accessible body part is bruised. It’s nothing like the fast-paced, athletic, deadly fights I’m used to watching, but it’s sufficient to quell some of the bloodlust I’ve been craving.

  I’m so lost in watching some guy grab another in a headlock that could easily be broken that I nearly miss a flash of movement in the trees opposite me. My body tenses, immediately suspecting that it could be another mercenary lurking in the dark, but I relax when I catch sight of Beck, hidden just behind the treeline. He’s engrossed in the scene of violence playing out in front of us, watching it with hawk-like eyes.

  He needs tonight as much as I do—possibly more. Everything he’s had to manage by himself for the last few months has taken its toll on him, but tonight, he can let all of it go. He can exorcise his demons and expel all of his rage on Mason and Hawk. Tonight should help him clear his head and stabilize him a bit, so we can work out our next move, because there is no fucking way I am letting any of our parents continue to use and abuse us like this.

  I’ve fallen so deep into my own thoughts, sucked in by the idea of bloodshed and retribution, that I don’t even realize the fights have come to an end and the boys are all breaking apart, some of them starting to make their way toward the treeline.

  The five of us stand and watch as, one by one, or in small groups, the other students disappear into the trees. As the sound of their voices fades into the distance, everyone else making their way back to the dorms, Beck steps out of the trees.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I notice West tense, and I make a point of walking past him on my way to greet Beck. The two of them—well, West in particular—need to sort out their shit.

  “Behave,” I growl in his ear, not giving him a chance to respond as I close the gap between us and Beck. I meet him on the far side of the ring with a smile on my face as I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him.

  “Right, let's get this show on the road,” Hawk calls out, making me smile against Beck’s lips.

  “Yeah, let's see what you’ve got, old man,” Mason taunts.

  Beck gasps in outrage. “What did he just call me?” he murmurs, in a low voice that only I can hear.

  I chuckle, turning back toward the guys. Mason is now standing in the center of the ring, staring brazenly at Beck, while the other three are still lined up along one edge.

  “No, me first,” I call out across the open space, walking back toward them, sensing Beck following behind me. “Then you can let Beck kick your ass.”

  I smile sweetly as I meet Mason in the middle of the ring, and he scoffs, looking affronted at my suggestion. I guess we’ll soon find out.

  “Alright, Little Warrior, whose balls are you planning on busting tonight?”

  I smile wickedly at Hawk. Obviously, it was going to be him. I definitely want to try my skills out against Mason some day, but I need him good and fresh for his fight with Beck.

  Hawk smirks confidently as he steps forward. “No problem, baby Davenport. Let me prove to you that last time was just a fluke.”

  Beck snorts behind me before he and Mason both move to stand with West and Cam at the edge of the makeshift ring. “Five bucks she beats him,” I hear Beck say.

  “Pfft, there’s no way I’m taking that action,” Mason retorts, shaking his head. “We all saw her last time. There’s no way he’s beating her.”

  My smile only grows bigger at their friendly ribbing, although Hawk doesn’t look impressed as he throws them a dirty look over his shoulder before pulling off his top and throwing it toward the outskirts of the ring.

  I do the same with the hoodie I’m wearing, leaving me in my sports bra and lycra leggings. In this outfit, I’ve got plenty of flexibility to move, and, with my hair pulled back, nothing can get in my way. Tonight, Hawk’s all mine.

  “No dick blows,” Hawk announces, making me roll my eyes.

  “Fine, but no titty shots then. That shit hurts.”

  “No hitting each other's faces either,” West calls out. “We don’t need the whole school speculating about what you two have been up to.”

  Dammit. He’s got a point, but still, he’s totally killing my fun. Nothing is more satisfying than seeing your opponent walking around with a shiner you delivered.

  When Cam calls the fight, we circle each other, both of us testing the waters with glancing blows. We spar back and forth. Occasionally, one of us lands a solid hit to the other's chest or abdomen, but it’s not enough to have any lasting impact.

  I can tell Hawk is much more focused this time. Although he walked into the ring with a confident attitude, there’s not the same cockiness in his movements, making it much harder for me to find an opening to take him down.

  It takes a while, but as he goes in to deliver a punch to my kidneys, I get the shot I’ve been waiting for. Hawk drops his arm, just a little, but it’s enough for me to knock him round the head, quickly following it with a kick to his leg. He moves to try and grab ahold of my calf, in an attempt to take me to the ground, leaving his head and chest completely exposed. Side stepping him, I knock him around the head twice more, disorientating him.

  On reflex, his arms come up to cover his face, giving me an opening, and I rush in, delivering two lightning quick jabs to his kidney and stomach that have the wind knocked out of him as he doubles over.

  “Fucking hell,” he wheezes.

  Swiping his legs out from underneath him, he crashes to the ground, and I’m left victorious, standing over him with a satisfied grin on my face.

  As easy as that.

  “I win,” I sing-song as Hawk coughs and splutters in the dirt.

  “Fuck me, next time you can beat on Mason,” he rasps, making me laugh. Stretching out my arm, he slaps his hand into mine, and I help him up off the ground.

  “You did well. Much more focused and less cocky than last time.”

  “Remind me again where you learned to fight like that?” he questions, still sounding pained.

  “Just something I picked up along the way.” I shrug casually, before shouting out, “Mason and Beck next,” in a feeble attempt to change the subject and distract him as the two of us make our way toward the others.

  Beck is dressed more informal than the guys have probably ever seen him. He’s wearing a pair of dark-colored basketball shorts and a matching muscle shirt that shows off his large, muscular biceps and toned arms, giving me a nice view of his tattoo sleeve. His normally styled hair is messier looking, making him appear more rugged, especially with the short stubble he’s rocking. All in all, it’s a pretty irresistible picture.

  Oops, was that a bit of drool? Subtly swiping at the corner of my mouth, I watch as the show gets even better when both Mason and Beck take off their shirts. Oh, yes, please. Both men are built to perfection. While Mason is broader than Beck, and packing more muscle, Beck is more lean and defined, but no less powerful looking as he stalks into the middle of the ring with Mason following closely behind.

  “Same rules as last time,” West calls out.

  “Yeah, man, don’t hit my titties,”
Mason jokes, making the corner of Beck’s lip tilt up as I belt out a laugh.

  The two of them face off against each other in what is my favorite wet dream come to life, and when Cam calls the start of the match, there is no slow build up like there was with Hawk and I.

  The two men launch themselves at one another, going straight in for brutal attacks as they pummel any part of their opponent they can reach. It’s violent and ferocious—and so fucking hot. My panties are a wet mess. Other girls might get off on their guys being sweet and caring, but this right here—this battle of power and brutality—this is what gets me revved up.

  It’s a fast-paced fight, and for the most part, it’s impossible to tell who has the upper hand. The two of them are evenly matched as they block each other’s hits and deliver merciless punches of their own, neither of them holding anything back.

  Just when I’m beginning to think there won’t be a winner—unless we spend all night standing out here, which doesn’t sound all that appealing now that the cold air is blowing against my sweat-coated skin, and my stomach is starting to grumble—Beck does some fancy maneuver so quickly that I hardly see it. The next thing I know, he’s got Mason in a headlock, his arm squeezing his neck.

  Mason fights him like a rabid animal, twisting and turning his torso, and punching at any part of Beck he can get at, but Beck holds firm around his throat until I’m concerned that Mason is going to pass out—he’s a heavy fucker to carry all the way back to the dorms.

  I don’t even realize I’ve taken a step forward, into the ring, until I notice Mason smacking his hand against Beck’s arm, the signal that he’s tapping out.

  “Woohoo!” I cry out, racing toward the two of them as Beck lets go of his hold around Mason’s neck. Mason bends over, placing his hands on his knees as he coughs and splutters, and Beck, after giving him a slap on the back, turns to face me with a grin on his face. “Underdogs for the win,” I shout out, laughing as I launch myself into his open arms, and he spins me around.

  It’s a rare carefree moment and I soak up every second of it, because you never know when things can take a turn for the worst. One second you can be loving life and the next, everything around you has crashed and burned. So yeah, I take in every aspect of this moment—from Beck’s white teeth as he laughs, to the way his arms tighten around my waist. How Mason has a small, rare smile playing at the corner of his lips, and the feel of the other guys’ eyes as they watch us. In this split second, Lawrence doesn’t exist. I didn’t grow up isolated, in a compound, where I was beaten and tortured into becoming a killing machine. I wasn’t robbed of getting to know my brother. Nope. Instead, I’m a normal teenage girl, feeling content in the arms of the boy she’s falling for, while she feels the heated stares of her three other crushes warming her up from the inside out. Like I said—normal.