Page 88 of The Devils They Are

"Good match," I murmur quietly.

Tamara nods sharply, dropping my hand once she's confident I'm able to stand on my own.

My eyes check the door, meeting Archie's. His are blown wide with horror and I make my way over, avoiding looking directly at anyone else.

He shoves the door open for me, offering his forearm as I carefully climb down the steps.

"Shit, are you okay?" he asks, wrapping an arm around my waist when I sway in response.

Suddenly, Parker appears on my other side, grabbing my arm.

"I'm fine," I tell them both, shrugging in an attempt to get them to let go.

"Help me get her to the rooms," Arch says to him, ignoring me.

The crowd parts as the three of us stumble through, the feeling of disappointment drowning me. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to look up, holding my head high as we weave our way through the Cedar bodies.

I try not to let it get to me. Many look devastated by the result, but to my surprise, everyone appears concerned. People try to offer well wishes of advice, saying I'll get her next time and asking if I'm okay. All I can do is nod, forcing a small, pained smile before reaching the rooms.

Away from prying eyes, I collapse onto the ground, Arch dropping to his knees beside me.

"What the hell happened?" Parker asks, shocked, from the doorway.

Neither of us answer him. Because truthfully, I don't have anything to offer.

And it's too hard to admit the truth.

Chapter thirty-two

Bexley

Ittakesalotof convincing to get Arch to leave when the night is done.

I stayed in the room for the rest of the fights, recovering and waiting for the pain to diminish as much as possible. He popped his head in occasionally, giving updates after I asked—well, insisted—that he wait outside.

There's something about being at your most vulnerable that makes you want to hide. I know he's already seen my vulnerable side many times recently, but having a babysitter right now is like rubbing salt in the wound.

Steele lost his match too.

Badly.

According to post-match feedback, my injuries look like a walk in the park compared to Steele's. At least I walked out of the cage—Steele had to be carried, barely conscious.

The fights have now finished and the voices from the main room are slowly getting quieter. I asked Arch to look after Steele, making sure he gets medical attention.

Since I drove here, I intend on waiting until everyone has left before I make my way out. It's not a pretty sight. Dried blood is stuck to my face while bruises are already flourishing on my skin. There's a particularly sore spot on my upper cheek that's going to be a pretty black and blue tomorrow.

Arch and Abby pop their heads in for one final check before taking off. Everyone is making their way to the beach, to drink away their sorrows. Willowbrook are using it tomorrow, so it's our best opportunity to let loose and lick our wounds—no pun intended.

We lost fair and square tonight, but it's still a bittersweet pill to swallow.

When the sounds outside fade away to nothing, I slowly force myself to stand, using the wall as stability. Everything hurts, and I wouldn't be surprised if I'm a bit concussed myself. Truthfully, I probably shouldn't be driving, but I'll take it easy.

Grabbing my keys to lock up, I head out of the room, happy to see the warehouse empty.

I need to cross the main floor to get to the side door, and despite only being a small distance, it feels like a fucking mile.

Reaching the other side finally, I'm just about to switch the lights off when footsteps draw my attention. My head pops up toward the Willowbrook rooms, heart racing as I expect to see Rylan—but it's not him.

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