Page 28 of Gambler's Conceit

Vortex barks out a harsh laugh. “Or you’ll do what?”

Seven is squirming against me, and he manages to get out, “Vortex, fucking stop it. I’ll go with you to Caleb or whatever.”

I did warn him. I let go of Vortex’s wrist and hastily zip my fly.

“I see why you wanted to get out of here now,” I say to Seven.

Then I launch myself at Vortex, fist forward, and catch him in the jaw. He stumbles back a few steps, losing his hold on Seven.

This is what got me into trouble with the army, too: flying off the handle and solving my problems with violence.

Seven scrambles out of the way, his eyes wide as Vortex regains his balance and swings right back at me.

“Fucking stop it!” Seven shouts, but neither of us are listening to him.

I kick Vortex in the knee and smile triumphantly when he stumbles forward.

The adrenaline rushes through me, and my heartbeat pounds in my ears. All I can feel is the righteous anger.

This motherfucker needs to go down.

SEVEN

VORTEX

I catchmyself on the smooth marble floor, my knee smarting from the kick.

That was a very practiced move. Whoever Havoc really is, he’s had training. I get up again and rush at Havoc—who is now free of the stall—and drive my fist into his stomach.

He groans, but he moves with the blow too, mitigating some of the force. He doesn’t waste any time driving his elbow into my arm, forcing me to back off.

“There’s only one way this is going to end,” I tell him, getting into a defensive stance. “Well, two. You’re banned either way. But you don’t need to leave in an ambulance.”

Havoc grins at me. “But you do.”

He rushes forward again, but I don’t give him an opening. I dodge and grab his shoulder, then slam him into the sink counter.

There’s a loud crack, and when Havoc gets up again, his nose is bleeding.

It doesn’t stop him, though. He kicks my shin, and as I hiss through the pain, he grabs me and throws me, hard, into the mirrored wall.

I catch myself, but before I can steady myself he’s on me, punching again. I dodge one blow, which ends up shattering the mirror around us.

Havoc’s hand is bleeding when he punches me again.

I weather one blow, but I catch the next and fling him into the sink counter once more.

The problem is that we’re almost evenly matched, for all that he has a slight edge on me. I don’t like it. I’m used to being able to throw my weight around and avoid fights completely, intimidating others before they even try to throw a punch at me, but this asshole doesn’t seem to get the hint.

Maybe I shouldn’t have grabbed Seven like I had, but the anger had just been so intense that I hadn’t been able to help myself. He’s an ungrateful little shit, and I hope Caleb makes him pay for offering his ass up to someone else like a fucking whore.

In the space between one blow and the next, I hear the door swing open—but I don’t fucking care. I’m focused on Havoc, on beating the shit out of him for having the audacity to hit me.

“What the fuck,” Caleb’s familiar voice says, surprisingly calm despite the situation.

I glance at him, but that’s a mistake, because Havoc uses the opportunity to get another punch in.

Fuck, that hurts. I turn my attention to Havoc again, readying another blow?—