All Chapters of Royalty College : Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

The bus ride was silent. No chatter, no music—just the low rumble of the engine and the occasional cough from the older fighters sitting in the back. Collins sat near the front, his duffel bag on his lap, staring out the window as the city slipped away.They drove for nearly two hours, past highways, past suburbs, until only dirt roads and bare trees surrounded them. The camp appeared suddenly at the end of a gravel path: a squat building, all concrete and steel, with a fenced-off yard that looked more like a prison than a training ground.When they stepped off the bus, the air hit Collins—cold, sharp, almost hostile.“Line up!” a voice barked.The man who shouted wasn’t Coach. He was broader, scarred across the jaw, his voice gravel. He looked more like a soldier than a trainer.“You think this is a summer camp?” he snarled as the fighters scrambled into line. “Wrong. This is where we break you down and see what’s left. If you’re weak, you go home. If you quit, you go home. If you dr

By day three, Collins wasn’t sure where he ended and the pain began.His body was stiff, his ribs bruised, his arms heavy as stone. Sleep came in jagged fragments, haunted by phantom fists and the sound of whistles. He ate in silence with the other boys, food tasteless, his stomach too knotted to care.But today, something shifted.The trainers didn’t call for drills. No laps, no sparring, no sweat-soaked punishment.Instead, they herded the fighters into a separate hall—concrete walls, dim lights, and no windows. The air was damp, heavy with mildew. They were told to sit. And then… nothing.No instructions. No noise. Just silence.At first, Collins thought it was a break. A reprieve.But after an hour, the silence became unbearable. Every shuffle of boots, every cough echoed too loudly, feeding the restless itch in his chest. He shifted, but the trainer’s glare pinned him back down.“Bored?” the man finally sneered. “Good. That’s the point. Out there, in the ring, you’ll wait. You’ll

Aaliah told herself she wasn’t going to answer him.Jeffrey’s message sat on her phone screen like a trap: “Saw what happened. Don’t let them break you. Meet me after class?”She should’ve ignored it. She should’ve stayed in the bathroom stall, where she’d been hiding since the showcase ended, tears soaking the ruined emerald fabric in her arms. She should’ve gone home, locked herself in her room, and stitched until her fingers bled, determined to prove everyone wrong.But when the final bell rang and footsteps faded down the hall, leaving the building in uneasy silence, her phone buzzed again.“I’m waiting outside the studio.”Her heart squeezed painfully. She didn’t want him. She wanted Collins.But Collins wasn’t here. And Jeffrey… Jeffrey was.Her legs moved before her mind caught up, carrying her out the door.He was there, exactly where he said he’d be, leaning casually against the wall. His posture was effortless, like he had all the time in the world, but his eyes sharpened th

Aaliah didn’t sleep.She lay awake in the dark, the ruined emerald dress folded in the corner, Jeffrey’s jacket draped across the chair like an accusation. She should’ve tossed it out, should’ve thrown it at his smug face when he walked away.But she hadn’t.Every time she closed her eyes, the moment replayed—his hand sliding up her arm, his breath warm against her cheek, the inevitability of his lips nearing hers. And the worst part? For one breath, one heartbeat, she hadn’t moved.She’d wanted it.Her chest squeezed, shame burning her skin. What would Collins think if he knew?But Collins wasn’t here. He hadn’t messaged in days. No calls, no notes. Just absence. She told herself he was training, working, building himself up for State. But the silence hurt more than she wanted to admit.She buried her face into her pillow, tears soaking the fabric. She hated Jeffrey. She hated Vanessa. She hated herself most of all.Morning came cruel and loud.The whispers started the second she ste

The morning air at camp was colder than usual, sharp enough to sting Collins’s lungs as he breathed it in. His ribs still ached from yesterday, but he pushed the pain down. Pain didn’t matter anymore.Today would decide if he was going home broken—or leaving forged.The barracks were quiet when they marched out. No jokes. No jeering. Every boy carried bruises, cuts, swollen eyes. And every one of them knew the last test was different.The trainer stood at the edge of the ring, his boots planted wide, his eyes scanning the fighters. When they landed on Collins, something like a smirk tugged at his mouth.“You’ve proved you can stand back up,” the trainer said, voice carrying over the yard. “That’s stubbornness. But stubbornness doesn’t win fights.”He jerked his chin at Collins. “Step in.”Collins climbed between the ropes, his heart hammering against his ribs. His fists tightened inside his cracked wraps, the blood on his knuckles dried dark and rough.The trainer’s voice boomed again