The school corridor was swamped with eager students trying to leave the area. As they scurried about I marched deeper into the heart of the building, pushing against the current. I scanned the wall of burgundy lockers searching for a certain shaggy haired jokester in the sea of students. A sense of relief washed over me at the sight of Andrew. In all honesty, I wasn't expecting him to still be here.

To my satisfaction he wasn't surrounded by the usual group of rowdy males.

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" Andrew mused, shuffling around in the overgrown metal tin in front of him. He hadn't even glanced away from his task, and in normal circumstances his newly acquired spidey-senses would have freaked me right out.

"Where's Lincoln?" The question left my mouth a little more demanding than necessary.

"He's still giving you the cold shoulder, eh?"

Annoyed by the smirk growing on his face I struck out against his shoulder. The last two times I came to him I had received the same responses. "Not funny, Andrew."

He chuckled in response, rubbing at his shoulder to irritate me further. I knew I couldn't hurt him. "He's not here."

"I've realized that."

"How long has he been avoiding you now? Two weeks?"

"Something like that."

One more day and it would have been two weeks since I so much as heard a word from Lincoln. I hadn't received a phone call, not even a text, asking if I could watch Sadie. I hardly caught sight of him in the halls. His presence was like that of a ghost in the school. I knew he was there, I just couldn't see him.

"When do I get to know what horrible thing you did?" Andrew asked, pouting in disappointment that he didn't already know the reason.

Rolling my eyes at him I answered, "Never."

"Why not? I can gossip with the best of them." He stated, flipping his invisible shoulder length hair.

"That's great. If you want gossip go find Ella."

"You know," Andrew started, leaning up against the side of his locker, "speaking of Ella-"

"No." I interrupted boldly, knowing what he was going to ask.

"Why not?"

Scooting over I made room for the girl trying to open her locker next to me. "Because you're a bad influence."

A puff of disbelief left his lips, "Some friend you are."

Irritated by his means of distraction I repeated my previous question. "Where is he?"

"That's top secret information." Not in the mood for his banter I reached for the teen's earlobe. Lincoln Pierce had evaded me long enough. If he still had a problem with me he was going to deal with it. I was not going through our pre-tutoring days all over again. "Ouch, woman!"

"Go on then, where is he?"

"Did you ever think maybe he's hiding because of your violent tendencies?"

"You're the reason for my violent tendencies." He continued to wince but refused to utter another word. "Andrew!" Twisting my fingers I clamped down on the sensitive skin.

"He's getting ready for tonight!"

The newly discovered information had me releasing my grip. "What's tonight?"

"I will not rat out-" Without warning I reached for his ear again. "Okay!" His hands rose in surrender. "He's got a fight tonight with Silva."

"I thought Silva didn't fight there?" The skin between my brows wrinkled in confusion. From what I'd witnessed Silva and Lincoln had their fair share of fights outside The Pit. But in the ring Lincoln was usually up against one of Silva's goons.

"He doesn't. But he approached Link last week. He wants to settle things once and for all. You know, a fight to end all fights?"

Men and their logic.

"And this is tonight? Why aren't you with him then? You're always with him on Pit nights."

"'Cause I can't go." Andrew said casually as he shut his locker door. "Tonight's my grandparent's 50th wedding anniversary. The wrath I'd receive from the females in my family just isn't worth skipping out. Trust me, I wish there was a way I could go and witness Silva's ass get handed to him, I've lost sleep over this."

"Then he's going on his own?"

Andrew shrugged, tossing his bag onto his back. "Definitely not. I can bet the rest of my life savings on you following him there tonight."

Shaking my head feebly I argued, "Well, he can't go there on his own. He shouldn't be going on his own. Silva and his band of freaks jump him every other time they lose, why would tonight be any different?"

Andrew grinned at me mockingly. "And you're going to help fight off a gang of teenage boys, are you? Lincoln's a big boy Cal. He can handle it." He straightened the strap of his bag. "And even if he needs a little help Felix is there to cover him. Don't you worry that freckled little face of yours." With a large had he pat my sweater clad shoulder. "Now, if you'll excuse me I have fifty years of life sucking monogamy to celebrate."

* * * * *

Despite Andrew's attempt to reassure me I decided to give my hand at spying another try. Although this time I convinced myself I was purely supervising. The plan was simple; go to The Pit, watch Lincoln, ensure he leaves unscathed, and then return home and wait for him to forgive me.

Sounded relatively easy and ample times less creepy than past circumstances of mine.

As per usual I immersed myself in the crowd. That wasn't a hard task considering my size. The energy in the room fulfilled that familiar buzz of energy I enjoyed so much. Lincoln had already taken part in a couple of rounds with other fighters. My guess was that he was warming up. Silva on the other hand was nowhere to be seen. His usual ring side seats were taken by an unfamiliar group of heavily intoxicated men.

I couldn't help but notice how much more at ease I felt in the factory basement. Unlike the first time I knew what to expect. It was an odd feeling, feeling at home in an underground fight club.

Passively I waited for the most anticipated match of the night. Well, most anticipated for myself at least.

The crowd hummed loudly, conversations being made left and right. Attempting to keep myself preoccupied my vision swept around. Curiosity casted my eyes in the direction of the bar. Subconsciously I knew what my mind was searching for.

And to my disappointment I found him.

Lincoln's father was perched on one of the stools, drink in hand. He was in pure leisure and it annoyed me that this seemed to be his new favourite spot. The proposal he gave his son resurfaced to the forefront of my mind. I hated that man more than I detested all four of my grandparents combined.

I don't know how long my attention was focused on where he sat but I must have been staring for at least a little while. Claudio's grimy gaze was directed on me. The yellow of his grin was visible from where I stood. Unexpectedly he rose his glass in a toast before knocking it back. Not understanding the cause for celebration I turned around in disgusted.

It was no later than eight and the man was already white girl wasted.

The roaring of the people surrounding me transferred me from my thoughts. There was movement in the ring again, a sure sign that the next match was about to begin. Not surprisingly Lincoln re-entered the ring. He strolled to the corner furthest from the cage door. His body language spoke freely, the stretching of his neck and arms telling me he was ready to go. Lincoln was ready for this, waiting. He wanted to put an end to this feud with Silva once and for all. And this was his chance.

As predicted Silva made his way into the ring not too long after. They were both in similar attire. A simple pair of baggy shorts and bandages on each fist were all they wore.

The two opponents met in the middle with the ref, the bald man between them shouting out rules and regulations. With a mandatory clap between the two rivals the ref stepped back and the match commenced. Instead of diving straight for the kill like I was expecting Silva mimicked Lincoln's movements. The two circled around the ring. Although they remained silent, their eyes spoke clear. They were relishing in the last few seconds of their rivalry.

Not being able to withstand the wait any longer Lincoln lunged first. Silva stumbled back upon impact only to retaliate as soon as he caught his footing. The blow sent in Lincoln's direction was enough to make him back off. Punches flew back and forth. Both sides dodged and side-stepped, Silva leading with the number of hits. Lincoln grabbed hold of the blonde the second he got too close. Like an enraged bull Lincoln bulldozed Silva backwards, trapping him against the cage. The clattering sound of the metal being shaken only urged on the crowd. Lincoln took advantage, delivering blow after blow to Silva's unprotected head. Pushing back Silva evaded the next round of strikes and escaped back into the centre of the ring.

The match continued in close contact. Both men wrestled and grappled, trying to gain the upper hand. Out of every brawl of Lincoln's I've been around to see this one was the most raw, the most personal.

The minutes on the large score board continued to count the minutes. Seven minutes in and Silva was seemingly exhausted. His blonde hair stuck to his forehead in a sweaty mess, his movements were slowing and the rising and falling of his chest was irregular.

Lincoln held the advantage. He had the experience, the skill, the stamina - aspects Silva wasn't exposed to often enough. The realization of a possible loss was present on his face. Even with the support of his fandom outside the cage gate Silva was losing his courage and gaining frustration.

Blow after blow was being administered by Lincoln. He was so focused on ending his rivalry that he almost appeared animalistic. Punch after punch he backed Silva into another corner, no mercy to be had.

In one last attempt Silva darted forward, a war-cry rattling the entire audience. The men were back to grappling and pushing each other about. Lincoln's grasp remained around Silva' neck, his python-like arm keeping his prey close. With his other hand on Silva's shoulder Lincoln drove him back, re-situating him against the cage wall.

With a little under ten minutes being displayed on the clock I was positive there wasn't going to be much more to this match.

That is, until Silva removed one of his hands from Lincoln's shoulder, allowing Lincoln to send more bone crushing weight into him. His freed hand moved down, making it appear as it though he was going to fix his shorts. His fingers moved to the elastic waist band, a flash of something metallic glittering off of the spotlights above.

Lincoln was too immersed in what he was doing to noticed the two-inch switch blade Silva had removed from his shorts.

Before I had the chance to protest Silva was plunging the knife into Lincoln's abdomen.

"No!"

I was drowned out by the rest of the crowd, the majority too intoxicated to realize what they just witnessed. With urgency I propelled myself through the masses of people. The excited buzz soon became one of panic as hot red liquid spewed from the incision. Ruthlessly Silva persisted to hold onto Lincoln, the blade submersed. The expression of agony and a sudden realization engulfed Lincoln's features, only causing me to trudge through the crowd faster.

"Lincoln!" I was advancing towards the ring now. Silva has pulled back, taking the weapon with him as he watched Lincoln drop.

The rest of what happened after that moved in slow motion.

I climbed through the cage door. Silva was already gone. Instead a couple of men who manned the cage were present along with the referee. All I remember was throwing myself down on the floor next to Lincoln, his blood seeping into the matt.

"We have to get him out of here."

They were trying to move him about, trying to get him out of the ring. They managed to move him onto his side, the gash coming into sight. It was an ugly jagged line on a diagonal, just about his hipbone. The sharp movements caused him to cry out. Instincts kicked in and I wrestled the hands off of him.

"You're hurting him!" I sounded wild, even to my own ears. Remembering Lincoln's pain I brought my face down to his stroking his hair back. His eyes were screw shut, his teeth grinding as he tried to fight back the pain. I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes, the thickness clamping my throat. "You're going to be okay."

A secure hand landed on my shoulder and I was seconds away from batting it off in my hysterics. But something told me to look up before I did.

Felix hovered over me, concern present on his features. He ushered me to move away, ordering two of the men in the ring to go find Dominic Silva. Although I didn't want to let go I fought back my refusal and allowed Felix to help Lincoln to his feet. We needed to get him out of here and to a doctor.

Even in the cold night I felt hot. My skin was searing, my body temperature flashing from hot to cold. I was way too young to be experiencing menopause.

"This way." Felix instructed, Lincoln's arm still around his shoulders. Not feeling the need to argue I complied, trailing after the duo. Lincoln's bare feet dragged across the floor as he stumbled along. I slipped my arm around his bare back, knowing I couldn't do much to help him walk but at least I could lead him some warmth. Automatically, a coiled bicep slipped around me. A fuzzy feeling erupted in my chest at him accepting my help.

"How you holding up bud?" Felix's deep voice asked.

Lincoln grunted in response, "I've seen better days." A forced chuckle left his lips causing him to erupt into a fit of pained coughs.

"The truck's just around this bend, hang on." A black Dodge came into view as we turned another concrete corner. The sleek shade of the paint flashed against the dull green of the dumpster behind it. Felix led us round the front and tugged the side door open.

"Up you go." With firm hands Felix guided the injured teen up into the truck. "Don't get blood on the seats, eh?" He joked. Lincoln grinned through his wince, flipping him off in the process.

"Your turn little one."

Without warning I was being hoisted into the cab of the truck.

The door slammed shut, the lights going out in the process. Not much could be seen but I could feel Lincoln beside me. His breath was shallow, a slight groan leaving his lips as maneuvered himself. Noticing how uncomfortable he was I reached out, pulling him closer so he could rest his head on my shoulder. I slipped my arm around his shoulder, cradling him close. My fingers combed through his damp locks. Anything to make him feel more comfortable.

"Figured you'd be here California." The croak of his voice made me feel like I had misheard him but at the sound of my nickname I knew he was happy to see me.

"Doesn't sound like you're complaining."

"I'm not."

A smile creeped onto my face despite the circumstances. I guess this meant things were good now.

The driver side door opened after that. Light illuminated the truck reminding me of the gash present on Lincoln's side. Felix soon slipped inside, closing the door shut with a bang.

"You won't bleed out in fifteen minutes, right?" The security guard joked trying to lighten the mood.

"Nah, man." Lincoln replied. His smile could be heard over the roar of the engine. "Just a flesh wound."

"You're kidding me right?"

Lincoln tilted his head up at me. "No more than a paper cut."

Ignoring the fact that he couldn't see me I gave him a dry look. "It could have hit a vital organ."

"It didn't."

"Oh, I'm sorry did you have pocket sized CT scanner that I didn't know about?" I said drily, not believing what I was hearing.

He disregarded my comment, "Just take me home Felix."

"You're not going home." I argued.

"I am. I'll be fine." He insisted, fixing himself in his seat. With Felix now driving on some lit roads I could see him applying pressure to the wound. "Did you forget I have a nurse for a mom?"

"And what are you going to tell her when you come home in a pair of shorts and gapping hole in your side?"

"Whatever I have to."

No matter what I said I knew I wouldn't be able to make Lincoln do anything he didn't want to.

"Where am I headed Link?" Felix questioned, Lincoln followed with his address in response.

"Take me home."