Ethan stood in front of the fogged mirror of his off-campus bathroom, carefully scrubbing the dried blood from his knuckles with a coarse brush and hot water. He was meticulous, ensuring not a single speck of rust-colored evidence remained under his fingernails.
The pain in his bruised ribs where Adrian had managed to strike him was a dull, throbbing ache, but Ethan welcomed it. It was the physical manifestation of his victory.
He smiled at his reflection. His pulse was finally settling back to a normal, steady rhythm. The ambush in the alley had been chaotic, a sloppy necessity, but ultimately wildly successful. He had heard the unmistakable sound of Adrian’s forearm fracturing. The golden boy wouldn't be shooting a basketball anytime soon. The king had been violently dethroned, cast do
