As soon as the vows were said, Alexei Yenin tried to slaughter my family. He shot Uncle Nero and Uncle Dante. And he gunned down my grandfather, riddling him with so many bullets that he had to be identified by his watch.
I should have been at that wedding myself, a baby in my mother’s arms. She and my father were only excluded because the Bratva feared retribution from the Irish mafia. I could have been a casualty of someone else’s love.
I hear my mother, and I understand her.
But nothing can stray me from my course.
I won’t give up Zoe.
I can’t.
I want her, or nothing at all.
15
Cat
The second challenge in the Quartum Bellum will be much more pleasant than the first, because I get to be a spectator instead of a participant.
It’s the perfect event to watch: an MMA tournament, with three champions chosen from the Sophomores and Seniors, and only two from the Juniors as punishment for finishing third in the obstacle course. The spectators get to sit on outdoor bleachers erected around a large canvas-floored ring.
I watch Leo agonize over which three fighters to put forward for the Sophomores. The obvious choice is Dean Yenin. To Leo’s credit, he admits that at once, making the request of Dean during lunch hour in the dining hall.
Leo intercepts Dean as he carries his tray to his usual table stuffed with Bratva and Dutch Penose. I’m sitting close enough to hear them talk, and close enough to see how Dean bristles up the moment Leo approaches, expecting conflict instead of conversation.
“I’m picking the fighters for the Quartum Bellum,” Leo says without preamble. “I thought you should represent us.”
Dean narrows his eyes at Leo, looking more offended than flattered. “Obviously,” he says.
I’ve never heard Dean speak before. I’m surprised how low his voice is, since his face is almost pretty. That’s a strange thing to say about someone who looks mean enough to drop-kick a puppy, but it’s true—Dean Yenin may have bruised, bloody knuckles and a perpetual scowl, but those features are paired with long lashes, violet-colored eyes, and full lips.
Dean is the boy I saw outside the stables the night of the Halloween dance. I pointed him out to Zoe a week later, and she shook her head, saying, “That’s Dean Yenin. Stay away from him.”
“Why?” I said, out of curiosity, not because I had any intention of speaking to him. With the exception of Zoe’s friends, I never approach upperclassmen.
“He’s Leo’s cousin,” Zoe said. “But they hate each other. Their families are enemies. They came to school already wanting to kill each other. Then they both fell for Anna.”
That was so intriguing that I had to know more. Having something of a girl-crush on Anna myself, I could perfectly imagine the kind of obsessive rivalry she might inspire.
“Did Anna like Dean?”
“At first,” Zoe says. “Until she got to know him. He’s dangerous. He tried to kill Leo—he’ll fuck with you just for being Leo’s friend.”
“I don’t think he knows I exist. Don’t worry, I’ll keep it that way,” I promised Zoe.
So I watch Dean and Leo from a table away, careful not to stare too obviously.
“Yeah,” Leo says, trying to keep his temper. “You’re one of the best fighters. So I—”
“One of the best?” Dean scoffs. “I am the best. And it’s not close.”
Leo grits his teeth, torn between his desire to argue and his need to secure Dean’s cooperation.
“You’ll do it, then?” he says.
Dean doesn’t answer immediately, savoring his power over Leo, the delicious dynamic of Leo forced to come begging for a favor.
“Who else are you picking?” he demands.
I don’t know whether that will influence his choice, or if he’s just curious.
“I’m not sure,” Leo says. “Maybe Silas Gray . . .”
Dean gives a curt nod, as if he was expecting that. “He fought well in the final challenge last year. But he’s not strategic. All size and rage.”
“Who would you suggest?” Leo says, half irritated and half actually wanting the advice.
Dean is silent a moment, thinking.
“Ares surprised me,” he says, at last.
Leo casts a swift glance back at my table, looking at Ares calmly eating a chicken salad three seats down from me. I fix my gaze on my own half-eaten food, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping.
Over the din of the dining hall, I can just barely hear Leo’s lowered voice saying, “I don’t know if he’d want to.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t think he’d like it. With everybody watching.”
“He’s shy?” Dean sneers.
“I dunno. I haven’t asked him. Who else would you suggest? We need three.”
“Aren’t you picking yourself?” Dean queries.
“Not necessarily,” Leo says. “I can fight, but I’ve never done it in a ring.”
“Hm.” Dean sounds surprised that Leo wouldn’t jump on the chance to put himself in the spotlight. He’s mildly less irritable as he says, “What about Kenzo Tanaka? Or Corbin Castro?”
I sneak another glance at Dean. This is the first time I’ve seen him and Leo in close proximity without open aggression. Their expressions are curiously alike as they consider the problem.
“Kenzo could be good,” Leo agrees. “He’s smart and fast, and I’ve seen him take some hard hits without going down.”
Dean nods. Then he seems to remember who he’s talking to, and his face stiffens once more, the chill returning to his voice. “It won’t matter who else you pick. I’m gonna win the whole thing.”
“I hope you do,” Leo says evenly. “It would send us to the final round.”
He and Dean part ways without further conversation.
I can hear Anna’s relieved exhale as Leo rejoins her.
“He’ll do it?”
“Sounds like it,” Leo says.
Ares has a textbook propped up against his milk glass and he’s reading as he eats, oblivious to the drama going on around him.
“He had some other suggestions for who he thinks should fight,” Leo says.
“Oh yeah, who?” Anna says.
“Ares,” Leo replies, looking over at his friend.
Ares glances up, eyebrows raised. “Does he know we won’t be fighting each other? ‘Cause it sounds like he wants a re-match.”
“You rung his bell.” Leo grins. “Knocked a little sense into him.”
“Maybe if I punch him fifty more times he might turn halfway decent,” Ares says, returning to his textbook.
“You want to do it?” Leo asks.
“Punch Dean? Of course.”
“No. Do you want to compete?”
Ares pauses, eyes still fixed on the page. Without looking up he says, “I don’t think so.”
“Why not?”
A muscle jumps at the corner of his jaw. “You know I don’t like that shit. I wanna help the team, but there’s better fighters than me.”