Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
CHAPTER THREE. ❝ PLAYING WITH FIRE ! ❞
THE pain in my jaw was relentless, a throbbing, pulsating ache that seemed to spread from my jawline all the way to the base of my skull. Every time I moved, it shot sharp jolts of agony through my face, as if someone had jammed a knife into the bone and twisted it with every breath I took. I pressed the ice pack against the bruise, wincing as the cold seeped through my skin, numbing the pain but only for a fleeting moment. It wasn’t broken—thankfully—but it sure as hell felt like it could snap at any second.
I gritted my teeth, fighting through the discomfort. My jaw was aching, my pride was stinging, and my mind was a whirlwind of chaotic thoughts. I bit down on my lower lip hard enough to taste blood, hoping the sting would distract me from the burning throb in my face.
That brat hit me hard.
I tried to focus on the familiar motions, anything to keep my mind off the fact that I’d been punched—and not just punched, but clocked square in the jaw by someone I never expected to land such a blow. My fingers flexed around the ice pack, knuckles turning white as I tightened my grip, forcing myself to breathe through the pain.
I shut my eyes, feeling the tension building in my neck. A slow, deliberate breath in through my nose, then out through my mouth, trying to calm the raging storm within me. I had taken punches before. Plenty of them. But this one? This one felt different. Maybe it wasn’t just the physical pain—although, fuck, that hurt too—but it was the fact that I hadn’t done anything to stop it. I could have blocked it, dodged it. I stood there and let her take the shot. Like some kind of idiot.
A scowl twisted my lips as the familiar sound of a low, mocking snicker filled the air. It wasn’t just the sound itself that annoyed me; it was who it was coming from.
Nikolai.
Of course, it would be him, lounging on the Heathens' expensive leather couch like the cocky, smug bastard he was. He hadn’t even bothered to put on a shirt, which was nothing new. The guy acted like fabric burned his skin, always walking around half-dressed like he was God’s gift to humanity. The way he was staring at me now, the corners of his lips curled in a shit-eating grin, was almost enough to make me want to hurl the ice pack at his head.
“King really did a number on you, huh?” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement.
I shot him a venomous glare, the muscles in my jaw tightening despite the pain. “Keep running your mouth, Nikolai. See what happens.”
He shrugged, completely unfazed by my threat. His smirk widened as he leaned back further on the couch, making himself even more comfortable. “I’m just saying. Doesn’t seem like she held back, does it?”
I clicked my tongue in annoyance, shaking my head as I turned my attention back to nursing my jaw. The cold from the ice pack was seeping through my skin now, numbing the worst of the pain, but it was far from gone. I could feel the bruise blooming under the surface, a deep, angry mark that would take days to fully fade.
