Savage Royals: A Reverse Harem High School Bully Romance(53)

The crowd was loud at first, cheering and laughing, calling out to the two of them… but as the fight went on, their voices began to die out. I glanced around at the crowd, fear filling me like ice water.

Whatever was going on inside the ring, it wasn’t normal or expected. It wasn’t how these things usually went down.

It was worse.

“Stop,” I heard myself whisper in a low, shaky voice. “Mason, make him stop.”

“It’s fine.”

“He’s going to fucking kill him. Call it off!” I tugged at his arm, unable to tear my gaze away from the unfolding fight. Cole had Preston on the ground again, and Preston was too dazed to block all—or even most—of his hits. But they kept raining down, like fire from heaven.

“Fuck,” Finn muttered.

“Yeah, Mason…”

Concern echoed in Elijah’s voice, but still, Mason waited.

My heart slammed against my ribs. I couldn’t watch this. I couldn’t let it continue. Without thinking, I darted forward to try to stop them myself when Mason caught me around the waist.

“Stay.” His voice was low in my ear, then he called to Elijah and Finn. “Get him off Preston! Do it.”

The guys moved forward and hauled Cole away from the other boy, but he struggled against their grip, fists still swinging. Preston’s face was so bloody and swollen, he didn’t even look like himself. The cocky look he’d worn when he first faced Cole was gone. I could hear a wheeze, and I was pretty sure his nose was broken.

“Knock it off, Cole!” Finn yelled as he grabbed him by his throat and shoved him to the ground. “He’s done for. Will you calm the fuck down?”

Cole grunted, baring his teeth in fury, but Finn leaned down and spoke low in his ear. After a few moments, the tattooed maniac stopped fighting, the tension bleeding from his body.

Mason and Elijah crouched over Preston, their faces tense. The rest of the crowd was already starting to disperse. No one wanted anything to do with the aftermath of this fight.

“Hey, Legs, get your ass over here!” Finn called, standing up and gesturing me over.

I walked toward him on shaky legs. “What do you need?”

“Take care of Cole, will you? Get him bandaged up.”

My pulse jumped, and I looked down at Cole. He was still lying on his back, staring up at the sky. “Me? What are you going to do?”

“Take care of this.” He jerked his thumb at Preston as Elijah and Mason pulled the blond-haired boy to his feet. He barely seemed conscious, and I was sure that without their support, he wouldn’t be standing. “We need to get him to the ER and make sure he keeps his story straight.”

“Um, okay. I—I don’t think I can carry him though.”

Finn actually cracked a smile at that, although worry still reflected in his eyes. He put a knuckle under my chin. “Don’t worry about that, little dancer. We’ll get him out of the woods, and you can take over from there.”

The six of us staggered slowly back toward the Oak Park campus, slipping through the gap in the wall. Preston still seemed to be in pretty rough shape, but by midway back, Cole was walking unassisted. The guys left the two of us outside my dorm and headed off into the night, Preston supported between them.

Upstairs, I flipped on the light and led Cole into the living room. I’d been to their dorms several times by now, but this was the first time any of them had ever been in mine, and I was acutely aware of that fact as I gestured toward the couch.

“Sit down. I’ll get my first aid kit.”

He hadn’t said a word since the fight, and he didn’t break the silence as he sank down onto the seat, draping his sweatshirt and tee over the arm.

I kicked off my shoes and darted into the bathroom, emerging a second later with the small first-aid kit that’d been stored under the sink. It was no substitute for real medical care, but unlike Preston, I didn’t think Cole actually needed that.

When I returned to the living room, I found him resting against the cushions, his head tipped back. He looked boneless and exhausted, as if the adrenaline that must’ve charged his system had taken everything with it when it left.

“You okay?” I asked softly, edging closer.

I probably should’ve gotten some kind of satisfaction out of seeing someone punch Cole in the face—something I could admit I’d daydreamed about doing more than once.

But I hadn’t liked it at all.

I’d fucking hated it.

His eyes opened, and for once, the blankness in them was completely gone. The piercing blues were more open and vulnerable than I’d ever seen them. “Yeah.”

I crawled onto the couch beside him, resting on my knees as I assessed the damage to his face. He had a swelling bruise on his right cheekbone, and there was a cut near his eyebrow on the right side. Blood had worked its way down the side of his face, mixing with the sweat on his neck. He hadn’t put his shirt back on, and the musky smell of ginger and pine clung to his skin.

“Can you turn your head toward me a little?”

He did as I asked, watching my face closely as I dabbed at the blood on his temple, cleaning up the wound as best I could. It wasn’t a deep cut, but it didn’t seem to want to stop bleeding. Eventually, I just held a piece of gauze to it, hoping the pressure would help staunch the flow.