Duke: Dark College Bully Romance (Bastards of Bainbridge Hall Book 3)
Duke: Chapter 11

Mason drives us to the warehouse like he did the first time the guys took me with them to a fight. I may not have been completely ready for what fight night entailed the last time I was here, but not only am I aware this time, I’m going in fully prepared to kick a little ass. Those OG Bastards will be present. That’s a given. I don’t like the way they treat my guys or me. I may have been through a traumatic experience or ten since arriving at Bainbridge Hall … but every time I recover, I’m stronger. And I’m a pro at compartmentalizing things, so everything that’s hurt me is locked away tight right now. Those cringey, old assholes had better fucking watch themselves, or they’ll replace out what Lennon Bell is truly made of.

Duke halts us at the door while Mason takes off with the SUV to park it in the deck across the street. “Same plan as last time. I’ll stake out what’s going on in there. Then I’ll come back for you when all’s clear.” He cocks one ear toward the building. “Sounds like a rowdy-ass crowd tonight, but I wouldn’t have expected anything less out of them.”

I stare with wide eyes. “What the hell does that mean?”

Duke grimaces with a slight eye roll. “The brothers from SIN are a bunch of animals. Completely out of control half the time.”

“Sin.” My nose wrinkles in distaste as my anxiety over tonight’s fight and what Bear will face quadruples in my active imagination. “What the hell are you talking about, and should I be scared?”

Bear rumbles, “Sigma Iota Nu. One of the frat houses on campus.”

My mouth forms an O as understanding dawns on me. I remember they mentioned the fighter from this frat at least once before. “Gotcha.”

Duke juts his chin toward the door. “I’m going in. I’ll look for any potential pitfalls. Be right back.”

I cast an anxious glance past him into the building, but don’t see much before the dark interior swallows him and the door snaps shut. He’s right, though. As much as I’m itching to kick a little ass tonight, we don’t need to walk directly into Tristan or Derek—or that bitch Morgan, for that matter. Not that I couldn’t handle her again if I had to.

Memories of having to put that girl in her place invade my brain space. These guys have a past—in fact, Duke’s haunts my dreams—so am I wrong to be so confident in my relationship with them? I suck in a deep breath and close my eyes, letting a movie reel of some of my favorite moments with each of them run through my head. Bear—asking so sweetly if I’d attend his football game. Mason—drawing me and telling me I’m the masterpiece. And Duke—bringing me lollipops just because he knows I like them. Nope. I have no reason not to be confident in them. The bond forming among the four of us gets stronger by the day—no, by the hour. Where I’m not confident is with their fathers and everything that comes with them, including their dirty businesses.

No matter who is here tonight, I’m ready to show them that I’m not backing down. I’m not scared of anything they have to dish out. The only thing that does kinda terrify me would be if something were to happen to take me away from Mason, Bear, and Duke.

I don’t know how long I’ve been mulling over things in my head, but I realize a moment later that Bear’s scanning the parking lot behind me. Looking for … what? Trouble, probably. A slow shiver rolls down my spine, but I shake it off. I don’t want to know what he’s looking at, so I don’t turn around to see whatever’s caught his attention. “So, just like last time, right? Another preliminary match, then yours?”

Bear simply nods. “Yeah, baby. You can wait for me in my dressing room.”

I don’t say anything to that because it’s definitely not my plan. Hearing the crunch of gravel behind me, I turn around to replace Mason’s legs eating up the distance between us as he crosses the lot. When he reaches us, he grabs my hand, laces our fingers together, and gives me a reassuring smile. “You good?”

“I am.”

Just then, the door opens and Duke waves us inside. The smell of sweat, blood, and alcohol assails my nose from the first step I take into the building, much the way it had the last time. It strikes me as odd that in this place where blood will assuredly spill, Duke wears a nice pair of fitted jeans and a button-down with rolled-up sleeves. Then again, his family’s stature probably prevents him from dressing any other way while at an event like this. Mason, on the other hand, doesn’t have a father figure here to watch him like a hawk, but he did manage to put on a clean pair of jeans and a black T-shirt—charcoal-free. Bear gets a pass, of course, trudging into the building in joggers and an old shirt that was big enough to accommodate the ice pack strapped to his shoulder. The fight world needs both the brawlers and those rich enough to bet on them. Money makes the world go round.

I follow Bear and Mason down the dimly lit hallway, allowing Duke to bring up the rear and shut the door behind us. Am I nervous to be back here again? Maybe a little. But that’s sure as fuck not stopping me from doing what I can to make sure this night goes off without a hitch for Bear. I said I would support him no matter what he chose to do, and I meant it.

We settle into the same big prep room we were in last time for Bear’s prefight routine, and the guys get to it with an ease born of familiarity and repetition. I wonder how many times the three of them have been together like this, how many fights Bear has won for his father, and how much money he’s earned for that dickhead douchebag over the years. And the horrendous thing is, I would bet Bear’s never seen any of it.

I don’t want to interfere with their routine—I did that plenty last time—but I definitely am glad to be included so I can keep an eye on things with Bear. It hurt me way down deep to see him fall apart. Gone was my strong, confident Gideon, and in his place was a shell of him, so lost and barely holding himself together. None of the guys ever questioned whether or not I’d attend tonight, and that’s the way it should be. I’d have fought them if they denied me based on what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours, because Bear needs me with him tonight more than I need to stay behind and cower from whoever it is out there who sought to harm me.

I haven’t allowed myself to think about it much since the guys and I went through what I could remember from last night … but I do wonder if the masked guy with the knife is lurking. He obviously took me somewhere I simply don’t remember, and then deposited me with Warren of all people. There’s been so much to hash out, I don’t know if it’s occurred to the guys to wonder why Warren? The nice guy. The only one in the house with an actual girlfriend, even if they were off again the night of the auction. The reason?

To cause drama. I’m positive. And to throw us off the scent of the true identity of my actual abductor … or abductors. Because the idea of Warren snatching me? It’s laughable. And the more I think about it, the more I’m positive that wasn’t Warren’s voice. Nor was it anyone else’s that I can pick out easily. So.

The guys might assume they’ll have to protect me tonight, but if someone out there has decided to fuck with me, I’m ready to fight. I’ve entered some odd post-trauma stage, and I’m pissed. And rightfully so. I’ve steeled myself, ready to take on whatever else is thrown at me. Maybe they should send me into the ring instead of Bear because I have enough fire running through my veins to take down the biggest of asshole motherfuckers. Whoever this SIN fighter is—the one they keep referring to with mild reverence—might get more than he bargained for if he were to take me on right now. Amused by my own thoughts, I take a seat on the couch where I hung out last time to watch the preparations.

Bear goes through the process of getting his cup situated but needs more help than usual with the intricate ties necessary to hold it firmly in place. Without a word, Mason steps in and does it for him, then helps him get the second set of compression shorts on so he doesn’t have to strain his shoulder at all. It’s adorable the way he’s helping his friend. I stifle a giggle as Bear sits down on one of the wooden chairs, then outright cover my mouth when Duke steps in to help Bear get his T-shirt off, taking special care with his right arm.

Mason quirks an eyebrow at me as I laugh behind my hand. “What’s funny?” His question has the other two turning to look at me, and I can totally tell a flush is creeping up my neck to stain my cheeks. “Sorry. It’s just like he’s a seventeenth- or eighteenth-century noblewoman, and you two are the maids helping him dress. I’m kinda waiting for one of you to whip out a corset next.” Another giggle bursts from my mouth, and I duck my head with wide eyes. When none of them say anything, I mumble, “Sorry,” sheepishly through gritted teeth, though my shoulders continue to shake with mirth.

Duke and Mason both glance at Bear, trying to get a read on him, because yes, I’m disrupting the flow of their usual prefight prep with my laughter and ill-timed jokes. But then a small miracle happens. Bear cracks a smile, presses his lips together, and eyes me from under his raised brow.

“Uh-uh. Don’t you dare laugh, sir.” I hold up my pointer finger and waggle it in front of his face as I get up and approach the three of them. “Get back to your routine.”

Bear’s left arm shoots out, and he grabs me, pulling me between his legs and against his chest. His arm belts around my torso so I can’t flee, perfectly capable of subduing me with just one arm. I turn my head, my face nestling into the crook of his neck as my chest heaves with laughter and tears stream down my face. He turns his head, and his words are a soft whisper near my ear. “Baby girl, Daddy owes you a spanking later. Understand?”

My lips curve up into a smile where they’re pressed against his skin. “Yes, sir.”

He growls, “You’re the best kind of distraction. Now lemme get ready for this fuckin’ fight.” Bussing my cheek, he loosens his hold on me.

I breathe a quiet sigh of relief, as he seems better than he did earlier. It’s the drugs talking, but I can only hope he remains stable, and he can fight like he’s expected to. Then we’ll figure out how the fuck to get him off this shit and get him help. Reluctantly, I back up, my cheeks hot as he winks at me with a certain fire in his eye that tells me he isn’t kidding about the spanking.

Duke shakes his head at our antics and gestures to the ice pack strapped to Bear’s shoulder. “How’s it feeling?” he murmurs, watching his friend carefully for clues as to how he’s managing everything.

Exhaling hard, Bear moves the shoulder a bit. “I mean … the pain is dull at the moment, and I’m not shaky like I was earlier.” He scrapes his teeth over his lip, considering. “I don’t know. I could honestly still be in for a whole world of hurt tonight. Maybe it’ll feel better once I warm up some.”

My stomach churns at the thought of him in the ring. And I want to watch the fight, yet I don’t. But I will because I refuse to let him go through this without knowing I’m here for him.

Mason steps in, inspecting Bear’s right hand—the one that he plowed through the wall earlier—and nods. “It’s gonna hurt. But nothing’s broken or anything. Just a little swollen.”

Bear lifts the hand that Mason isn’t busy wrapping and scrubs it through his hair. “Sorry about that, by the way. I was upset. I’m calmer now. Couldn’t see through the haze earlier. I was overwhelmed. Drowning.”

Duke sits down across the table from him. “No harm done. Hopefully, the reprieve will give you the ability to focus. Then we can figure out the rest later.”

There’s a tap on the door that has my heart plummeting somewhere into my gut. “Fifteen-minute warning,” comes a gruff, stern voice through the door.

All the air in my lungs whooshes out with relief, and I shrug when all three guys eye me like I’m crazy. “Sorry, I thought it was that bimbo Morgan again.”

Mason glances over his shoulder at me, giving me his signature devilish wink. “Don’t worry. Morgan has nothing on our upgrade. No doubt she’s here somewhere, though, so watch out for the claws.” He gives a little shudder that makes me laugh, which I’m positive was his intention.

I roll my eyes, playing along. “Sparkle Pants should stay far away from me. I have no problem breaking her pretty little nose if she sticks it in my business.”

The next knock on the door comes with a booming voice telling Bear it’s time for his fight. For the last fifteen minutes, he’s been stretching, jogging in place, and throwing some light punches—doing whatever he can do to warm himself up. I’m unsure if he’s physically prepared for this, but I also wonder from the strain evident on his face whether he’s mentally ready. Only time in the cage will tell.

I blow out a breath and get up from the couch to join the guys as they gather a few things to take out to the ring.

Bear pulls me aside to give me a quick kiss. “Thank you for being here,” he rasps. “I’ll see you when it’s done.” He presses his lips to mine again, and this time the act is filled with longing. Maybe he simply wants this to be done—I think that’s what I’m reading in his warm golden eyes. Reluctantly backing away from me, he leaves with one of the guys in charge of running the match.

Mason and Duke turn to me, Duke immediately leading with, “We didn’t discuss it, but I’ll stay with you.” I see it written all over his face, obvious as hell, that he wants to be out there with Bear. It suits my plan just fine.

Before I can respond, Mason hurriedly tells me with a worried grimace, “It won’t be longer than thirty minutes. Each round is only five minutes with some breaks and whatnot. Max three rounds. It might not even go that long.” He pauses, his eyes crashing shut. “Shit, I could stay instead this time. You should go, Duke.”

I press my lips together, trying to figure out how to do this. “Go. Both of you. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Duke’s brows dart sharply together. “We aren’t trying to imply—”

I close my eyes for a second and shake my head. “No. You don’t get it.”

“What don’t we get, Kin?”

“You don’t need to be in here with me because I’m coming out there with you.” I draw myself up, waiting for their reaction. And boy, do I ever get one.

“Are you out of your mind?” Duke looks at me in astonishment. “You were held at knifepoint last night.” His voice raises. “And they did who the fuck knows what to you. They drugged you.”

As if he’s completing Duke’s thoughts, Mason continues with the rant. “For all we fucking know ‘they’ are in the warehouse tonight. Did you think of that?” He looks at me with wild, crazy eyes, like I’ve tipped him right over the edge with my plans.

I let out a sigh, unable to ponder it at all when we have Bear to focus on. I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m not fucking scared.” My gaze bounces between the two of them. “Look, we’re wasting precious time. Bear’s out there right now. Alone. Probably about to take on the most difficult fight of his life. You can watch over me out there just as easily as you can in here. And fuck all the people messing with me if they’re here and think what they did is going to faze me for one goddamn minute. I refuse to hide. I will not be intimidated.” My jaw tightens as I fling my hand toward the door. “He’s waiting for us.”

Duke runs a hand down his face, staring at me for a moment, but finally nods. “Okay. Let’s do it.”

“Jesus Christ. Okay.” Mason blows out a hard breath and waves me out the door.

They keep me between them as we hurry down the hall, cutting a path through the crowd toward the ring. Duke was right. Despite the fact that the usual clientele of these fight nights are people with obvious money, it’d seem there’s an entire contingency of unruly Sigma Iota Nu brothers waiting to watch this fight. The entire damn fraternity. Holy shit. My teeth clench together. What the hell?

The first fight I attended didn’t have this feel to it at all. I spot the other fighter, a guy with dark hair and darker eyes, preparing to enter the ring. He’s tall—but not nearly as tall as Bear—and absolutely ripped, his finely hewn muscles scattered with tattoos. He looks wickedly mean. Lethal. And even worse … cunning. Unlike the crowd, which is kind of going apeshit, this guy seems singularly focused on what he’s about to do. He takes interest as we approach, a brow going up when he spots me. And one look into his sinful eyes tells me he’s out for Bear’s blood.

There’s a small area on the far side of the ring where Bear’s standing with the ref, preparing to head into the cage. There’s a ton of crazy-loud cheering from the crowd as an announcer climbs in with the fighters, his mic at the ready.

His deep, theatrical voice booms out, echoing around the entire warehouse. “For our featured fight tonight, we have a special treat for you!” He pauses for effect, which totally works because everyone in the room goes bonkers. “Our challenger is none other than the one and only Wilder ‘Wild Man’ Emory from the Sigma Iota Nu! Please give him a warm welcome.”

The guy I know now to be Wilder lifts both hands into the air and makes a show of running around the ring, then climbing the inside of the cage and pumping a fist into the air, roaring as his fans cheer below.

The entire fraternity is here, sure, but just like Bear has us, Wilder has a couple guys with him, too. When he jumps down, they take some time to speak to him. Honestly, either one of them look like they could replace Wilder at a moment’s notice. I nudge Mason. “Who are they?”

He chuckles low and dirty, nodding his head toward each as he explains who they are. “Royal’s on the left. Beckham on the right. They’ve been known to fight on occasion, too.”

So, my assumption was correct. These brutal boys of SIN could probably chew up and spit out other fighters. They throw off lethal vibes. My gaze lands on Royal, sizing him up—dirty-blond tousled hair, ridiculously handsome features, and an air of superiority. My lips twist. Royal. I bet no one calls that one Roy without paying for it.

Just then, he takes a few steps back from the cage and turns to a girl sitting there. He whispers something in her ear, and the next thing I know, her hand flies out and she smacks him. From here, it almost looks like he’s laughing.

Duke huffs out a laugh at my expression, following the path of my eyes. “Yeah. Don’t be fooled. He’s pretty, but he’s fuckin’ mean as a snake. And Beckham—that guy will tell you to your face he’s a lover, not a fighter, then turn around and knock you on your ass. Steer clear.”

Mason, Duke, and I make our way over to the opposite side of the ring from all the commotion. Bear ambles over to us, though he hasn’t seen me yet because I’m purposely standing behind the guys. They slap hands with him as he passes them, a tight, let’s-get-this-done smile on his face, but his eyes bug out when he spies me, his expression morphing into one of wide-eyed surprise. He gives me a heart-stopping grin, scooping me against his bare chest. “What are you doing out here?” He may not be showing fear on his face, but it’s coming through in his voice.

I whisper urgently, “I told you, I’m here for you. I’m not scared.” I turn my head upward and, stretching onto my tiptoes, touch my lips to his shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay.”

“I will be no matter what … because you’re here.” He lets me go, blows out a breath, and nods—almost like he’s trying to convince himself of it. The announcer has begun to build toward Bear’s introduction, raising his hands and getting the crowd going. I’m trying to hold in my worry, but I fear this fight is on a collision course with disaster.

“And now, let’s welcome our undefeated champion, an absolute terror in the ring … Let’s hear it for Bear Pierce!” His voice booms the name, and it makes my heart jump in my chest.

Bear steps inside the cage, lifting his left arm and waving at the crowd. He walks around the ring like he owns the place. Some would say because of who his dad is, he kinda does own it. But fuck that. I say he’s fucking earned every bit of the respect he’s given.

We cheer ringside, fingers gripping the metal cage, then Duke and Mason guide me back to an area close by to watch.

My stomach flips with distaste as Sparkle Pants herself, and one other big-breasted girl in a similar flashy outfit, each raise a Round One sign and strut their stuff around the cage, shaking their asses and smiling. It’s for the crowd, yes, but their main focus is definitely the fighters in the ring. They wink and wave and push out their breasts that are strung up in these incredibly revealing bikini tops.

My normal reaction would be You do you, honey, but all of it makes me want to hurl when I imagine Morgan visiting Bear to help with his cooldown routine. Her face morphs into a nasty sneer just for me when she deigns to look my way before it brightens up into her dazzling cage-girl grin once again for the rest of the cheering crowd.

Mason tips his head near mine. “Don’t look now, but Tristan seems very interested that you’re here. Derek too. They’re behind us.”

And despite Mason’s warning, I do look. I take in the smug expression on Tristan’s bearded face and the leering one on Derek’s. As I watch, Morgan finishes her duties as cage girl and comes over to sit in the chair between them, a nasty smile twitching to her lips when she spots me observing them. Tristan’s brow raises the slightest fraction as his loathsome gaze travels over me, sending anxiety snaking down my spine. Arrogant fucking dick. He can kiss my ass. I dare him to try something with me tonight.