Chapter 2 Chapter 2

The door clicked open.

Elowen lifted her head as the boy stepped in, his hood pulled around his face, tinted glasses covering his eyes. He had a build advantageous to any boxer.

She straightened, brushing a hand down her jeans and forcing a polite smile. Swinging her bag over one shoulder, she rose to greet him.

“Nice to meet you,” she said evenly, extending her hand.

Miller immediately clapped him on the shoulder. Excited, but holding back a little so that he could take Elowen's waiting palm.

He did, and the handshake lasted only two seconds. His grip was firm, but he said nothing. Not a single word.

Her smile wavered at the tension that seeped into the office alongside his entrance. Something about him was familiar, really familiar.

On the back of his hand, half-hidden by his sleeve, was a small but visible tattoo. It was a cross with wings at its sides and an 'L' in the center.

Her stomach flipped and Elowen looked up at him.

She knew this design. She knew it too well.

But her brain scrambled to place it. Where had she seen this? When had she seen this?

Miller looked away, pretending not to notice the awkward silence stretching between them. He clapped him on the shoulder again, taking his hand also.

“We are happy to have you back from rehabilitation. The tournaments are coming up and the school is counting on you to put us back on the map as champions.”

Still, he didn’t speak. He just gave a short, stiff nod. But Elowen couldn’t hear a word anymore. She wasn’t looking at his face. She was staring at that tattoo.

And suddenly, she remembered exactly where she had seen it.

She reached up and pulled his hood from his face. His shades went clattering to the floor and his lips parted slightly.

Lucian.

Lucian, freakin’. Langford.

"Sterling! DON’T!"

Miller held her back, his arms tight around her waist in a torso lock, dragging her back as she thrashed in his hold. The blood in her veins had been replaced by raw metallic fury, and all she wanted was to send the bastard that stood before her to the deepest grave ever dug in human history.

If there wasn't—

“I’m going to kill you!”

She didn’t mind digging it herself.

Miller’s face had gone a shade too pale. 

“Elowen—”

The boy’s head tilted as he was confused. As if he didn't remember.

“I… I don’t..”

“You ended my brother’s career!” Elowen screamed. “You broke his shoulder, his labrum was torn, his spine, herniated discs… his hand was shattered and had to be wired. We had emergency surgery and it was a miracle he survived.” Her eyes blurred over and she kicked against Miller's balls accidentally.

“You nearly killed him in that ring and you don’t even remember me?!”

Miller groaned and fell to the ground, cursing under his breath as he clutched between his legs. He could barely speak, his nuts felt like they were on fire.

But just before she could lunge for him, he held onto her legs.

“Elowen, please,” his tone was raspy, “the board can’t have you kill your own protégé. Remember, your tuiti—”

“Fuck the tuition!”

Lucian swallowed and squinted, as if the haze in his memory was clearing just enough.

“Elowen Sterling?”

He remembered.

“Look, that day I—”

She flung her phone at him. He barely dodged it, and it slammed against the wall with a crack.

“Oh, so now you remember?”

Miller jumped to his feet.

“Enough! Enough!” he barked, grabbing her wrist with authority. “Might I remind you that you’ve already signed the document? You can’t throw a fit.”

Elowen yanked her wrist free. “And so? The document doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

Miller sighed.

“Luckily, the board anticipated your outburst, and that is why we added a clause at the bottom.”

She paused.

What clause?

He reached into the folder and tossed the page toward her. She caught it instinctively, scanning the fine print.

A. If at any time the athlete is assaulted, injured, or otherwise physically harmed by the undersigned (Elowen Sterling), a civil suit will be filed seeking damages in the amount of $500,000 plus legal fees. The undersigned will be personally liable for said damages.

B. If the undersigned withdraws from or cancels this agreement prior to the completion of the tournaments, all tuition amounts paid on the undersigned’s behalf will be immediately retracted and must be reimbursed in full. In addition, the undersigned will incur a contractual penalty of $200,000, and the sponsored enrollment of any immediate dependents (including sibling enrollments and medical/access benefits) facilitated under Harrington’s sponsorship program will be revoked.

“Ah.”

Lucian ran his hand through his curls awkwardly while Elowen kept re-reading the paper. Hoping to see some sort of joke note at the bottom.

She massaged her forehead, groaning internally. She should’ve known. She should’ve known the board wouldn’t just cover her tuition without strings attached. There had to be a clause. She should’ve read it, but she had been too caught up in the relief, the excitement, and the possibility of not having to scrape together every cent for tuition.

She looked at Miller.

Snake

That was the only word she had for him in her mind right now.

Miller’s expression softened, genuinely.

“I understand, Elowen. I understand why you can’t stand him. I was there that day, more than half the school was. I understand your anger. Lucian is different now, that time it was just dru—”

“What kind of boxing champion does drugs before a match? What kind of athlete fights his opponent like a madman with zero sportsmanship?”

“Elowen…”

“No.” She raised a finger. “Allow me to finish.”

Lucian swallowed.

“That period was terrifying. I didn’t know if Kieron would survive. I didn’t know if I would lose him. We had just lost our father three years ago, and I was at the hospital, watching my twin fight for his life. It was by a miracle that he pulled through. And now you want me to coach him? You want me to coach the very person who ended my brother’s career and nearly his life?”

Miller, who was usually very good with words, didn’t know what to say. After all, he had been in the hospital, he had watched Elowen lose her mind then. What they were asking for was difficult, maybe… evil. But it was necessary evil.

“I… I can’t even do this right now.”

She grabbed her bag and cardigan.

Lucian stood in front of her, arms out, eyes bright, hood drawn tight over his head again.

“Is there a sliver of a chance that maybe you could hear me out?”

She ignored him, and ‘accidentally,’ very violently shoved past him as she made for the door.

Hear him out?

She’d rather eat wet grass.