Cupid's Guide to Murder

Chapter 21: Fight Night

"Griffin, let him go. Griffin!" The second time I said his name, Griffin dropped Justin's collar from his grip, causing him to stagger back against the wall.

Griffin turned to look at me, the look in his eyes unreadable. He unclenched his bleeding fist.

"Are you okay?" I whispered. It was to both of them, but my eyes were on Griffin. A dark bruise framed his handsome face.

"Stay away from me and my fucking girl." Justin spit.

"Haven and I aren't anything. As for her not wanting you, that doesn't involve me at all." Griffin managed an almost cocky smile. "You can thank yourself for that one."

This time, Justin was the one throwing the punch.

"You guys, stop." My voice sounded hollow in my ears. "We're at a charity event. Do you know how bad it'll look if anyone sees this?"

"Him being here already looks bad," Justin taunted. "How'd you even afford that suit, huh? Did you steal it? Was it drug money?"

I stared at Justin, shocked, but he was oblivious. He grabbed my hand. "Let's get out of here," he muttered.

Griffin looked at our joined hands, his face clouding over. Before I could say anything, he stormed away.

"Why do you have to be such an asshole?" I said, raising my hands in frustration and glaring at Justin.

"Me?" Justin shook his head. "I had to put him in his place. He wants to act all high and mighty, flirting with my girl? Everything about him is a fucking act. He's a loser, Haven. How can't you see that?"

"Stop talking about him like that," I snapped. "And I'm not your girl. You and me? We're done."

His eyes narrowed with disbelief.

"What, you're breaking up with me for him?" He sneered.

"For myself," I said.

I expected him to be pissed and argue. I didn't expect the words that came out of his mouth.

"Go after him. When he hurts you, don't come crying back to me. I don't want his trashy leftovers."

Without thinking, I slapped him, my face burning.

"I didn't mean to." Justin's eyes filled with regret, but it was too late.

"Never disrespect me like that again." I stepped back, still shaking in anger.

"Haven, I — "

I turned away before he could say anything else, ignoring his frustrated yell and disappearing around the corner to find Griffin. It was hard running in heels, but I held my dress as I rushed down the hall, seeing him still fuming, his fists bloodied.

"Griffin," I called. When he didn't respond, I moved closer to him, placing my fingers over his face, feather-soft.

He winced, but he didn't push me away. His chest heaved up and down.

"Does it hurt?" I whispered.

"What, you're talking to me now, but you have nothing to say when Pretty Boy is there?"

I almost flinched at his harshness, my hand dropping from his face.

"How are you angry at me right now?"

"I'm not," he groaned, his hand still in a fist. "Just please get out of my face."

"Griffin — "

"Leave!"

"Stop hurting yourself!" I said, tugging his arm away.

"Just leave," he repeated with a sense of defeat.