Ban X Jericho Novels & Stories

she tried to touch me, but I shoved her hands off. "I'm not here for you." I walked past her before I even had time to take notice of the reaction on her face. I went straight to the fighting arena. Two men were beating each other bloody inside the ring, while cheers erupted around them. Jericho sat there like a king, enjoying the violence. "Jericho," I said. He turned to me, and the smile on his face quickly disappeared. "Bloodbath," he said slowly. "What a surprise." He leaned back. "Didn't think I’d see you here again after killing someone in my club."

His mind churned—fury boiling hot, thoughts slamming into each other, looking for a way out. Beside him, Jeremiah rode silent, stiff as a board. Not the same quiet, though—his was heavier, loaded with shit he couldn’t say. Jeremy didn’t look at him, just kept his eyes on the passing blur of streetlights and shadows, but the air between them crackled anyway. He exhaled slow, a hiss through his teeth, before breaking the hush, voice low and edged with something nasty. “X,” he said, still staring out. “You’ve been off lately.”

“Of course girl. But first stop being a stubborn. You can’t win from those bullies that easy, okay?” “Okay and I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to not do it again.” But if it’s too much, I wont hesitate to counter back. We were about to head back when I remember something. The guy who helped me earlier. “I have another question.” “ABout?” “Harvin, is that the name of the guy who stop Jericho?” “Oh! Yes! Harvin Lye Corteza. Isn’t he nice?” “But who was he? For me it looks like that he has this high authority to stop Jericho,” I marveled.

He asked and Jericho yelled for the back making me roll my eyes and Princeton laughed "Where do you want to go?" "BK!" Jericho yelled and I shook my head "Bk it is"

“You’re too smart to be running around in terrible wigs taking photos of Kerry. June pays you well, but not well enough for that kind of risk.” “June’s finances and my job description are none of your business,” I say coldly. “They aren’t,” he agrees easily. “But yours are.” He pauses, the silence in the room suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. “Your brother’s name is Jericho.” The air completely vanishes from my lungs. I freeze. “What did you just say?” “He’s twenty-three. He’s at Saint Mercy Hospital.” Foxe’s voice is gentle, contrasting the horrifying violation of what he’s saying. “He needs an experimental spinal surgery, and the deposit is fifty thousand dollars. The exact amount June of