Blackthorn Elite: The Entire Series

by Beck, J. L.

  “I know, but you’re my friend, and I’d be an asshole if I didn’t say it.”

  The feeling in my chest is too heavy. I need a subject change. I look down at my clenched fists, feeling the blood pumping through my veins, itching for a bit of violence.

  “Call up, Franco. Tell him I want a fight. The bigger the guy, the better.”

  Talon raises his brow in question. “You sure about that? You took a pounding last time. I’d prefer if I didn’t have to use a spatula to peel your body up off the bottom of the pit.”

  “Just do it. Tell him to set it up, and then spread the word around campus. Get everyone to come.” I’m already giddy, simply thinking about it. Talon pulls out his phone even though he looks reluctant about doing so. I watch him type up a text and hit send, then I get up and grab my tray. Walking over to the garbage can, I toss my stuff into it and head back to the doors that lead outside.

  “Where are you going, man? You didn’t even eat,” Talon calls.

  “Not hungry,” I tell him with a shrug and walk out the door without looking back.

  Pausing for a moment, I stop to think where Kennedy may have gone. All her classes are done for today. Obviously, she came to the cafeteria to eat, and since she didn’t do that, my guess is that she’s most likely going home.

  Starting in the direction of Kennedy’s apartment, it doesn’t take me long before I catch up to her. Her shoes slap against the wet concrete as she walks down the sidewalk like she is trying to outrun something. Can’t outrun me, baby.

  I follow closely behind but not close enough to draw her attention.

  She maneuvers around a group of guys heading toward her, hugging the left side of the sidewalk, maintaining an even amount of distance between them and her. A light drizzle falls from the sky, making my shirt damp. The smell of rain surrounds me, and as we come up to a crosswalk, I see the red do not walk sign blinking.

  Kennedy either sees it and doesn’t care or doesn’t notice. I don’t know which one it is, but the only thing that matters to me in that instant is reaching her fast enough. A van barrels down the road, heading straight for her. My heart clenches in my chest, fear pulses through my veins as I see it happen in my mind. Acting without thought, I reach out before the image in my mind can become a reality. Gripping onto the back of her shirt, I pull her back just as her foot touches the lip of the curb.

  The van races by, laying on its horn while Kennedy’s back slams into my chest. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her. Before I come to my senses, I lower my head and bury my nose in her hair. For a few seconds, I allow myself to inhale her sweet floral scent that’s mixed with the smell of rain. Just this one time, I tell myself.

  Shifting in my arms, she looks up at me, fear written in her features. I want to shake her for being so stupid. For not paying attention. Does she want to die? Why wouldn’t she look up before crossing a busy street?

  It occurs to me then that I could’ve lost her. I could’ve lost my last piece of Jillian. It makes me aware of the fact that, though not much, I do care about Kennedy enough that I don’t want her dead.

  “You saved me,” Kennedy whispers, almost breathlessly. Her pink lips are parted, her hair is damp, and her cheeks rosy with embarrassment or maybe shock.

  Snapping out of it, I release her. “Are you stupid? Why would you walk out into a busy street when the sign was blinking red?” I force the fear out of my voice and replace it with anger. It’s not fake either. I’m furious. Why would she do that?

  “I…” Her bottom lip trembles and tears well in her hazel eyes. I can almost see the old Kennedy in there. The girl I would do anything for. She’s close, almost within distance, and yet so far away, I won’t reach my hand out and grab her. I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to feel anything for her. I don’t want to care about her.

  Sneering, I take a step back. “Pay the fuck attention to what you’re doing. I can’t torment you if you’re dead.” Distance is what I need right now. I don’t really care about her, it’s just my sick obsession with getting revenge that has things twisted.

  Kennedy exhales, her chest deflating. “What… What were you doing here? Were you following me?”

  My lips tip up at the sides in a half-smile. “I’m always following you, Kennedy. Always watching you. Pay attention,” I tell her one last time before shoving my hands into my pockets and walking away. I leave her standing there because the alternative isn’t something I want to face right now. Kennedy can’t matter to me. She can’t become anything more than revenge. Not now, and not ever.

  73

  Kennedy

  I replay the moment in my mind over and over again. The van almost hit me. Just another step, and I would’ve been gone, my life over. I still don’t know how I feel about it. For a long time, I felt like I should die, that I would do anything to trade spots with Jillian. I’ve never feared death. Instead, I’ve always hovered on the verge of welcoming it… until now. Since that almost hit the other day, I don’t think I want to die anymore.

  Even more confusing is the fact that Jackson pulled me away when I figured he would have been the one to give me a push. Why did he do it? Why didn’t he just let me walk into the street? Isn’t that what he wanted… me dead?

  “That’s it for today,” Mrs. Bay says, dragging me out of my thoughts, dismissing the class. “Assignments are due next week. Don’t be late because if you are, I’m deducting ten points for each day.”

  I grab my book and notebook and stuff it into my backpack before getting up from my seat. Walking out, I spot two girls who were sitting beside me in the classroom. They spent most of the class gawking at me and whispering to each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if they were looking at my scar. I should be used to it, especially now that I’ve stopped wearing makeup, but I don’t think I ever will be. The reminder of it all hurts too much.

  Shaking it off, I walk past them and out the door, but not before I hear one of them say, “I heard she wrecked her car while driving drunk. Killed someone too.”

  “She should be in jail, not college...”

  Their words steal the air from my lungs. How do they know about the accident? About Jillian? Pain slices through me, but I force my legs to keep walking. The ground moves beneath my feet, and suddenly I feel like I can’t get away fast enough.

  Holding onto the straps of my backpack with an iron grip, I start running down the hallway until I burst through the doors leading outside. I run and run until my lungs burn and my legs cramp up. Until I’m gasping for air, and my vision becomes blurry with tears. And even then, I continue running because if I stop, I’m afraid of what might happen.

  * * *

  I have to force myself to go to my next class. At least I had four hours between my little breakdown and now. Even though I feel like my eyes are still puffy from crying, I walk into economics class with my head held high. No one seems to notice me as I walk in, which is fine by me. I don’t want to draw any attention to myself. Taking the last seat in the back row, I pull out my book and notepad and set everything out neatly in front of me.

  Grabbing my pencil, I tap it against my notepad anxiously.

  I really don’t mean to eavesdrop as I wait for the teacher to start the class, but when I hear Jackson’s name come up in the conversation between two guys sitting a row ahead of me, I stop tapping the pencil and listen instead.

  “Why would he fight again this week? He only had a fight last week, and he never does more than one fight a month,” one guy says, searching through his backpack for something.

  His friend shrugs. “I don’t know, but I’m telling you, Jackson is gonna fight Boris tonight, Franco made a big announcement last night. I want to go just to see how crazy it is.”

  The first guy finds whatever he was looking for and slumps down into his seat. “Boris? That guy is huge, and he fights dirty. Brings knives and shit. Jackson is gonna get his ass handed to him. Fuck, he’ll be lucky if he comes out of the pit alive. Boris is cra
zy, and he’ll do anything to win.” The pencil slides from my fingers and rolls off the table. I should probably bend down and get it, but I’m momentarily petrified.

  Fear has its hold on my throat, making it hard to breathe. Jackson is going to get hurt. Why would he get into fights like that on purpose? Why would he put himself in danger like that? Doesn’t he know all it would take is one hit to the head, and he could die?

  Does he want to die?

  The teacher starts the class, but my mind is somewhere else. I can’t focus on anything that is being said. All I can think about is this fight that Jackson is going to be in with this Boris guy and how dangerous it all is. I know he hates me, and he has every right to do so, but I don’t hate him. Maybe I thought I did. I wanted to, but I never did… I’m not sure I could, even if he scares me and tries to make my life hell. The last thing I want is for anything to happen to him.

  I need to warn him.

  Now the real question is, will he listen to me? I doubt it, but I have to try.

  The class flies by even though I don’t listen much to what is being taught. I’m too busy trying to figure out how to find Jackson. I don’t have his number, and I don’t know where he lives. I guess my only chance is to go to that place the pit and hope I catch him before it’s too late. He’ll either hate me more or thank me. Either way, it’s a risk that I have to take.

  When class is dismissed, I tap the guy in front of me on the shoulder. I try to hide how nervous I am when he turns, giving me a questioning look.

  “Hey, sorry… I overheard you earlier. Ah… talking about the fight? Where exactly is that at?”

  The guy raises a skeptical eyebrow at me, and for a moment, I don’t think he is going to answer me at all. “The pit. It’s in an old warehouse in the industrial park.”

  “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

  His friend has also turned around and is looking at me now. I can feel his eyes burning into my face.

  “Want me to take you there?” the new guy asks, giving me a wide smile. “I’m going anyway, so it’s not a hassle.”

  “Thanks, but I’m fine,” I say while gathering my stuff up. “I’m not sure if I’m gonna go yet, it’s not really my kind of scene.”

  The guy frowns. “It starts soon. You sure you don’t want to come with us?” He’s good looking, and obviously cares about his classes since from the looks of it, he’s been taking notes all hour, but I don’t want to make friends, much less get a boyfriend, and I know if I said yes, even for a ride, that’s what he would think. That or sex, which isn’t going to happen.

  “No, I’m good. Thanks again,” I tell him as I brush by him and speed walk out the door.

  I remember seeing the industrial park on the map I studied when I first got here. It would probably take me a good hour to walk there, but calling an Uber or getting into the car with anyone who isn’t my parents is out of the question. Cars are a hard no for me. I’d rather walk three hours than get into a car and drive thirty minutes.

  I drop my backpack off at my apartment on the way, but I don’t even stay long enough to eat. Grabbing a jacket, I walk right back out and in the direction of the warehouse.

  It ends up taking me an hour and twenty minutes to get there. I wasn’t sure if I would even find the place, but when I saw a shit ton of cars pulling onto the road and turning a few blocks down, I knew I was in the right place.

  It takes me a little while to get to the door, but when I do, there is a line. The line moves impossibly slow, and by the time I reach the front, I find a big scary man blocking the entrance.

  “Ten dollars.” He extends his hand out, and I blink rapidly before reaching into my wallet and pulling out two fives. As soon as the money kisses the palm of his hand, he ushers me inside. Entering the warehouse is like being dipped in ice-cold water and tossed into a hot frying pan.

  It’s a complete shock to your body. The noise is astounding, and I nearly turn around and walk back outside. The only reason I don’t is this incessant need to protect Jackson, which outweighs the discomfort I’m feeling. Discomfort is a momentary thing, but losing Jackson if I don’t warn him, could be life-altering.

  Moving through the crowds, I follow the sound of skin slapping skin. I reach the front, shoving past some girl in a barely-there shirt, and find that Jackson is already in the ring. My stomach falls to my knees, and my heart collapses in my chest.

  Jackson is wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and sneakers. His muscular upper body is on full display, and if he wasn’t in so much danger right now, I might gawk at his physic. But as it is, he’s facing a monster of a man, who’s raining his fists down on him.

  Then his gaze collides with mine, and as if there is an invisible rope between us, I feel myself being drawn to him. I can see the anger filling his features. He doesn’t want me here, but I don’t care. Cringing, I watch as he barely misses taking another punch to the head.

  Come on, Jackson. Fight. I can’t lose you too.

  74

  Jackson

  My muscles are already burning, adrenaline courses through my veins. I need to do this to keep myself sane, to keep myself from losing my goddamn mind. It’s so loud in the warehouse tonight, I can’t even hear myself think.

  Franco delivered on getting the biggest, baddest, scariest, motherfucker he could find. Boris is, well, a tank. He looks like he eats people for breakfast, and though he seems big and bad, my fists are faster, and my stamina is top of the food chain.

  “Are you sure about this?” Talon yells over the roar of the crowd.

  “Dude, stop being a pussy,” I growl, tired of him always fucking with my good mood. He worries too much.

  “Whatever. It’s your death.” He rolls his eyes and tosses a water bottle at me. I catch it mid-air, twist the cap off, and chug the contents before crumpling the bottle. The cool liquid does little to ease the heat rolling off of my body. I’m ready to get this done and over with.

  “You asked, and we delivered. Welcome to the pits, everyone. Tonight we have the baddest, cockiest, motherfuckers I know going head to head. B-O-R-I-S! And J-A-C-K-S-O-N!” Franco drags out our names, and the crowd lets out a roar that’s deafening. I bounce on the heels of my feet, sizing up Boris, who looks as if he’s a brick shithouse.

  It’s going to take more than a couple punches to knock him on his ass. Especially when his fists are as big as my biceps.

  A tingle runs up my spine. I’m not sure why, but it swirls in the pit of my stomach. Shaking the feeling off, I focus on Boris, he’s big and bulky, which probably makes him also slow. He might be a giant, but that doesn’t mean he has speed or a good fighting instinct.

  My hands are wrapped in tape, but we don’t wear gloves. I check the wrap one more time before I put in my mouth guard and walk out of my corner. As soon as I step into the ring, I step out of the warehouse. Mentally, there is nothing here besides him and me inside this pit.

  It’s easy for me to drown out the people, the cheers, and the voices. I push everything away, fears, guilt, and worry… it’s all gone at this moment.

  This is how it is when I fight. It’s my one escape, the only time everything is quiet around me. My demons can’t reach me when I’m inside the pit.

  I don’t even hear Franco ring the bell, but I know the fight has started when Boris rushes toward me, fist raised. He takes a giant swing at me, air swooshes across my face, but as I suspected, he is slow. I can easily move out of the way in time for the right hook.

  What I didn’t expect him to do is follow it up with a left jab.

  His fist hits me above my left eye, and it hurts like a bitch. My head snaps back with the force, and I see stars. Jesus, fuck, he might be slow, but his fists pack a punch.

  Shaking off the pain, letting it fuel me, I take a step to the side, avoiding his next punch. I need to be smarter and faster than this guy if I’m going to win.

  Moving around him, I get in some good jabs here and there, but nothing seems to faze him. His pup
ils are blown out, completely black, which makes me think he’s on something. He swings again, and I duck down, coming up with a right hook, my fist slamming into his chin. It’s a hit that would have knocked most guys out on their ass.

  This guy just smiles. What the fuck?

  I’m so shocked that I’m momentarily distracted and don’t see the next punch coming. His fist clobbers me in the side of the head, and I swear it feels like I got hit with a fucking brick. Before I can recover, he hits me again, this punch landing in my gut, knocking the air from my lungs. Pain lances across my body like a lightning bolt.

  Trying to get away from him, I stumble back, but he continues his assault. Raining punches down on any part of my body he can get to. My head spins, and my stomach churns. I’ve never tapped out before, never had a reason to, or was afraid enough to, but I’m fucking close now. My pride can handle the hit. I’m stupid, but I don’t want to die.

  Boris swings and gets me again on the head. Pain erupts inside my skull as my head is forced to the side. My teeth rattle in my head, and my vision blurs, and for a moment, I think I’m knocked out. Darkness blankets my mind, but then I blink them open, and suddenly, I see her.

  Kennedy.

  Her eyes meet mine, and everything around me snaps back into place. The people, the warehouse, fucking Boris… and right there in the center of the crowd is Kennedy. Her eyes are wide with fear, her lips trembling, and all I can think is that she doesn’t belong here. I need to get her out of here.

  Another punch to the gut that sends whatever air is left in my lungs out on a gasp. It reminds me that I’m still fighting this monster. Deep-rooted anger rises up inside of me, filling my veins with newfound strength. I’m a volcano seconds from exploding.

  I don’t know why she is here and why it bothers me so much that she is, but I know I need to finish this fight, get to her and drag her the hell out of here.