Page 25 of Cage's Fall

She looked at me dryly. “You saw the messages the other night, didn’t you?”

I could lie. Instead I shrugged.

“Thanks Cage.” She gave me a small smile. And then went to pick up her heels. Guessing she was heading to bed. “I’m sorry about your hand.” She frowned, seeing the spilt skin, and I couldn’t give a fuck about it.

“Don’t worry about it, had worse.” Wasn’t sure what else to say to ease her concerns.

Her hand went to my cheek. “You should look after yourself better.” And then her hand was gone, she brushed past me, leaving.

Chapter Fifteen

Autumn

School was the vein of my existence as I sat in class, watching the day drain away. Dylan was sporting his bruised jaw like it was a fucking trophy which he got. No one knew how he really got it— or the fact he was knocked out cold. So he seemed like a hero but I saw right through it.

I knew Cage had got a grilling from Dad on the weekend about punching Dylan; and it was all my fault.

Which brought me to my latest issue. Should I message him on Facebook? I looked down at my phone message thread open. I frowned. He wouldn’t want to hear from me—would he?

I ended up giving into the weaker side of me, who really wanted to see how he was. So I sent him a message saying sorry for the drama on the weekend.

CAGE

Sitting in the church boardroom. Hawk was rattling off details about the latest shipment fuck up. He was still freezing me out from the weekend. I lit up a cigarette— barely listening when my phone vibrated.

Pulling it out, it was a Facebook message. Only had one person on Facebook. I smirked. Suddenly the morning got better.

Sry bout the wk is ur hand ok?

Didn’t she realize I got in to fist fights all the time. I was a cage fighter for a reason. My knuckles were always swollen or bleeding from fist fights. I was thinking of what to respond back to her. Finally, I decided to keep it neutral.

All good darling

Then realized hadn’t left it open for her to respond. So I quickly added;

How’s school? Did you replace that dress?

That image of her in that dress had helped me out the other night in the shower. But before I got lost in the memory of her in that tight school dress I looked down to see her typing.

No, but I will be when I finish today. Mr H won’t stop staring and touching.

My eyes widened. Mr H? Who the fuck was Mr H? And why was he touching her!

What do you mean touching?

I was glaring at the phone at this stage.

Too much to explain.

And just like that I knew where I was heading to. I looked at Prez hoping he had wrapped up this meeting. Sure enough he sent the hammer down, and I walked out of the church boardroom heading for the school. If I go there in time, it would be lunch time.

Wat room u in?

I sent to her.

B22 Y?

And I put my phone in my pocket and headed out to the lot. I think it was time for her school to realized he belonged to a club; more importantly that this club protected what was theirs.

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