Page 7 of Unhinged Obsession

He grins. “I heard Blair’s been seen at Onyx Dominion.”

Ben immediately groans, “That’s stupid, Elijah. Saints don’t fuck with Dominion, and you know it. Bradford’s just making shit up to rile you up.”

Bradford ignores him, but continues egging me on. “Some Saints don’t fraternize with Dominion, but the ones who want The Society to go back to the original rules do. They just don’t openly admit it. I’ve heard your daddy spends some time meeting with the Elders of Dominion, isn’t that a funny little fact? The Moretti patriarch believes in the old-school ways being used on the Chosen Ones.”

Every muscle in my body goes rigid. Onyx Dominion is the underground sect of The Black Crown Society. They’re brutal; we don’t claim them, and if they so much as laid a finger on Blair, I’ll kill every single one of them.

When I don’t say anything, Bradford adds, "Just what I heard." Bradford shrugs, feigning like he isn’t playing some kind of game with me. “I hear a lot of things, you know.”

Bullshit.

He knows more than he’s saying; I can see it all over his face, in the way he’s looking at me like he’s waiting for me to crack and start begging for answers.

But that’s not going to happen, because Bradford needs to understand one thing: you can’t blackmail somebody who doesn’t give a fuck.

You definitely can’t blackmail somebody who’s already spent months watching everything important in his life fall apart.

Before anyone else can react, I’m moving.

One second Bradford is standing there with that smug look on his face, and the next I’m crossing the distance between us. My fist slams into his jaw, and the impact sends him sprawling backward, and both of us crash onto the ice. I can hear the gasps from the crowd.

Good.

Let them watch this fucker take his last breath.

I’m not even looking because I’m too infuriated to care if I’m punching this scumbag or the ice, so I just start throwing punches. Bradford tries to fight back, but he’s completely outmatched. He doesn’t have the size, the strength, or the stamina to keep up with me.

Months of frustration pour out through my fists. Every unanswered question and every sleepless night are now Bradford’s problem.

Every second Blair has been gone is equivalent to how many times I want to punch his face until he’s unrecognizable. My knuckles slam into his nose again, and blood splatters across the ice.

Whistles shriek from every direction as the refs rush toward us, trying to halt the game and, I guess, keep me from committing a homicide during a school-sanctioned event.

Bradford curls up and covers his head, which I have to say is the smartest thing he’s done since he’s been in my presence. Benjamin finally decides I’ve had enough fun, so he lets me get a few more shots in before grabbing the back of my jersey and hauling me off Bradford’s battered body.

“If I’ve gotta have a fucking lecture from the old man because of this, I’m gonna fuck you up.” Ben groans, but I’m not paying attention to anything he’s saying. Movement beyond the glass catches my eye.

Paris is walking along the walkway around the rink, her light blonde hair pulled into a messy ponytail with that stupid pink bow she wears all the time. But that’s not what has my full attention. She’s leaning in and talking gently to someone beside her as they make their way toward the corridor.

Blair.

The air leaves my lungs violently, and Bradford’s blood drips from my knuckles onto the ice.

She looks different than the last time I saw her. It feels like a lifetime, but realistically I know it hasn’t been long enough for her to be thinner through the face and shoulders. Her skin carries a pale cast that makes it impossible not to wonder what happened to her when I wasn’t there to protect her.

The warm color that used to live in her cheeks is almost completely gone, replaced by a sickly exhaustion that makes my stomach twist. Even from here, I can see the shadows beneath her stunning eyes. The way her shoulders slump beneath her school sweater makes me want to scoop her up in my arms and haul her against my chest. She moves like she’s carrying something unbearably heavy, and I’m going to figure out what that is even if she doesn’t want me to.

When she disappears from my line of vision, my eyes shift, narrowing on my unworthy opponent. Bradford grins at me through the blood smeared across his face. "I wasn’t bluffing about anything, Moretti. I can promise you that Blair will be my Chosen One, and all your dirty little secrets will come to light."

I don’t lunge at him. I don’t throw another punch. Instead, I turn and skate willingly toward the edge of the rink, leaving the game on my own much to the refs’ relief. I mean, my brothers and I are the reason there are four refs on standby at every St. Augustine hockey game, after all. I reach the boards and stop to look back at Bradford. He’s on his feet now, fighting off one of the refs and Coach as they try to drag him off the ice, probably to get his bloody nose checked.

He’s still smiling at me, but it fades when I meet his eyes from across the rink. "Blair is my Chosen One," I say loud enough so every fucking person around us can hear. “That’s the only option. Unless you want a campus-wide bloodbath.”

BLAIR

CHAPTER FOUR

The barn has always felt more like home than anywhere else on campus.