The Lonely Hearts Club

Chapter 37: The Cage Fight pt 1 (Bree)

In my humble opinion, the best way to get over anything is to just pretend it didn't happen.

Is that unhealthy? Yes.

Will it bite my ass in the long run?Also, yes, but I don't care.

Did Rowan send me a bomb? No, he didn't.

Did I fall asleep on Hades last night? No, I didn't.

I don't recall having any terrible dreams, in fact, I don't recall having any dreams at all which Is definitely weird—so I'm just not thinking about it.

Currently, I'm sitting in Hades' locker room because according to him, no one is allowed in here, meaning I will be unbothered.

I'm starting to like him again.

It's pretty spacious in here, there's an adjoining bathroom and a vending machine and he gave me his card so I can buy whatever I want from it.

I've been sitting on the floor, reading a magazine since we got here at 7pm, except I've been too worried to read about nonsensical shit.

There's a little TV showing what's happening in the arena.

There have been singers and acrobats and every so often, Nicks—that dude who accused me of lying yesterday—will remind everyone when the main event will start and what the rules are.

Hades will fight three opponents back to back, if they can knock him out, they get 100,000 dollars, pretty simple.

I'm staying in here until he's about to fight because I saw Lana on the TV screen and Savvy was right by her side and I don't want to die just yet.

"You good?" Hades opens the locker room door and slams it as a camera light flashes behind him.

"Are you good?" He's about to be in trapped indefinitely in a metal cage in less than half an hour, not me.

"Yeah, don't worry about me angel." He smirks, sitting down in front of a mirror.

He runs his bandaged hands through his hair a couple of times before he parts it down the middle.

He swiftly does two braids in his hair, fingers moving expertly.

I'm so shit at doing my hair, the best I can do is a ponytail or a fucked up bun.

"So there's a VIP section," he says, spinning in his chair to face me. "I want you to stay in there, the crowd can get a little wild sometimes."

"Okay."

He then reefs a black jacket from a hook, on the back printed in bold letters is MADDEN, and underneath is a white print of the angel of death, complete with the hood and wings, just like the tattoo on his back.

"Put this on." He instructs.

"Why?" I ask.

"It's mine," he says. "And no one will touch you if you wear it."

"Because they're scared of you?" I ask.

"Something like that."

This jacket has one of the softest materials I've ever worn and it smells like... it smells like...like a sexy man has worn it.

Which yeah, makes sense if belongs to Hades.

"I'll take you to to the VIP section, then I'll come get you after everything's done, you stay in there and don't leave." He says.

I raise an eyebrow.

"It's because I don't want anything to happen to you, okay?" He says. "If you stay in that part, I'll know you're safe."