IGNITE

fifty-four.

੭୧ 𝐩𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫 ੭୧

Maxine and I had spent the better part of an hour spinning around and around on the stripper pole before we were both sticky with sweat and parched. I held her hand tightly as she led me through the throngs of people and to the bar, where I asked for one virgin rootbeer—and clarified several times that there was no alcohol in it.

The bartender nodded, smiling before handing me the bottle and turning his attention to the next customer as I thanked him and twisted the bottle open, taking a sip.

Maxine let out a soft squeal, wrapping her arms tightly around me, nearly knocking my tiara from my head. "It's your birthday! I am so excited," she kissed my cheek before spinning away from me, nearly crashing into Cyrus as he slid onto a barstool next to me, his eyes lighting up when he caught sight of the half naked Maxine in front of him. "Hi Cyrus." She grinned drunkenly, "I've missed you, you know."

Cyrus looked amused at her confession, and he let his gaze sweep over her once, as if to soak in all of the skin that was exposed in front of him, his eyes narrowing. "Where are your clothes?" His tone was more teasing than questioning, and I watched as a flirty grin twisted onto Max's face.

"I was giving Pipes here a lesson in pole dancing, it got hot. Besides, I am wearing clothes, they're just small," she shrugged, her tone matter of fact. She looked him up and down, opening her mouth to say something undoubtedly scandalous as shouts began to bounce off of the walls around us.

"FIGHT!"

I turned my head as Max's arms tightened around me, trying to keep me in place. "Pipes, let's stay right here." She spoke, as Cyrus hopped off of the stool, a scowl on his face. "It might not be safe."

Something in my stomach twisted—something telling me that I needed to find out what was going on. I pulled away from Max, who cursed at me before hurrying along after me as I weaved through the crowd, and out the back door, where a crowd had formed around two men.

One I immediately recognized as Greyson.

It felt as though all of the blood had drained from my face, my dinner threatening to reappear as I stared at his figure.

Blood.

Blood covered his hands, dripping onto the concrete beneath him, coating his clothes, his face. His eyes were wild as he threw punch after punch at his opponent, his face twisted up into a snarl, his features contorting with each hit he delivered.

It wasn't the Grey I knew.

One particularly hard punch had blood splattering across my dress, spraying my sash and bleeding across the light green fabric that covered my body. I couldn't help the small cry that escaped my lips as I looked down at the stains, before I was looking back up to Grey.

Cyrus was between him and the man I recognized as Reece—a small mercy, that I could still recognize him—as Ryan and Kai were forcing Greyson away from the crowd, trying to calm his heavy breaths and get him to the clubhouse, away from all of the prying eyes of the bystanders.

It was as if everything that Scott had said about Grey had come true right in front of my eyes, and it was as if someone had kicked me in the gut, making it hard to breathe. My body moved on its own accord as numbness spread through my bones, taking slow steps after the trio, following them around the dark corner and further into the cold night.

It felt as if my entire world had flipped upside down, the past few weeks erased from existence as the scene played over and over in my mind.

I was frozen in place when Grey suddenly shoved Ryan and Kai away from him, spinning towards me and immediately softening when he caught sight of my wide eyes. His gaze melted, and I watched his entire face twist from something so full of hate to something full of love, his fists unclenching, the blood on them glistening in the low light. "Firelight,"