The fae running things up front—not the twins—dragged me into the back and left me there. There was a moment where I thought I might die or at least pass out, but Bryn is one of the other wolves who fights regularly, and he sat with me and told me I was going to be okay.
There’s no point in them letting us kill each other, he said. You can’t make money off the dead.
Not like this, at least.
I dragged myself home after that, avoiding everyone else more out of luck than my own judgement, considering the way my head was throbbing, and won two rounds at my next fight, which was a significant improvement.
The troll darts forward, faster than I’m expecting, but I leap to the side and his blow only glances my shoulder. Pain still shudders down my arm. I spin on the ball of my foot and lash out at his unprotected side. He hisses when my fist connects.
Some of the wolves shift when they’re in here, though usually not until they’re a few rounds in, I’ve noticed. Bryn does that. He hasn’t asked why I don’t, though he’s been around at every oneof my fights so far. I want to ask him which pack he belongs to, why he’s here, but I know better than that.
I don’t want to answer those questions myself, do I?
The troll bellows and charges me this time, which is just what I’ve been waiting for. He’s stronger than just about any full-grown wolf I’ve met but nowhere near as fast as a vampire and doesn’t have the agility to make up for it. I slip out of his guard and hit him again, this time kicking behind his knee so he stumbles, nearly planting face-first on the floor.
I want to dart my gaze up, to check that shadowed booth where I know the twins sit, but I keep my eyes right where they are. I haven’t spoken to them since the night I agreed to fight. The green-haired one—Sorrel—is the one who texts me about the fights, and true to their word, I’ve always been given at least half a day’s notice.
My only worry is if they drag things out, but Iwantto be here. My blood sings with every hit, the chaos of my mind quieting when I’m forced to focus this way. Yeah, I go home injured, but I sleep soundly after, nightmares buried underneath sheer exhaustion.
I don’t want to stop doing this. Ican’tstop doing this.
The troll charges me again. Unlike most of the other fae, the teeth he bares at me are square and flat, more for crushing than digging in. Eyes narrow under a prominent brow, and this time I don’t duck out of the way.
I need to be close to finish this, and I know I will. It’s only my first fight of the night, and if I made it to three rounds last time, I can certainly do four this one. A flicker of surprise crosses his face when I don’t move, but when he tries to grab me, to bring me down, I twist and punch him square in the chest.
It’s a gamble. Trolls are hardy, and even if I didn’t know that, his barrel chest would be a giveaway. Still, Iama wolf. I put allmy strength into it. His bones don’t break, but he stumbles, all the breath forced out of him.
A sound ripples through the crowd. I hook my ankle around the troll’s leg and shove him, sending him sprawling. At first, I think they’re making sounds because of the fight—maybe he’s a favourite for this round—but then I look up and see him.
Asher. The guy from the Wild Hunt.
He’s not looking at me. He’s trying to force his way through the crowd, gaze locked on the booth where the twins sit, and the trolls who protect them are already moving, warding off the vampire who was with Asher and Maurice on the night of my challenge a few weeks ago.
The troll pushes up onto his elbows, but he hit his head hard on the way down, and he can’t get up. One of the fae opens the cage.
“Go!” she shouts. “The Hunt are here.”
I take a step forward, then hesitate. I need to get out of here. If they’ve seen me—Asher works with Maurice, and Maurice might be together with the crai, but I know he talks to Sam on occasion, being as they’re both dealing with magic.
But they can’tdoanything to me, can they?
The fae…
I glance back. The troll is standing now, leaning against the wall of the cage. When he pushes away, he sways in place.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I grab him by the arm, and he growls at the touch. “Comeon,” I say, and his eyes widen in surprise. Unlike the twins, whose eyes are all black when they’re not wearing a glamour, his are a deep brown, with strange, square pupils. “You need to get out of here.”
The room is clearing out, fae scattering, and Asher and his friend seem to be preoccupied with the trolls. The shadows inthe booth twist and writhe—then one darts through the back room, where the fighters wait before they’re called into the cage.
It’s the best way out. We might get lost in the shadows out front, but that room has a door that leads out toanotheralley, one that isn’t so magically hidden.
I half-carry the troll over to the door, noticing as the other shadow leaves through the front. There’s no one in the back room waiting, so I shove open the fire door and hustle him out into the alley.
We’re halfway down it when he stops me. “Need to—” He shakes his head. “Glamour.”
Fuck. I haven’t even considered that. I help him over to the wall and nod. “Okay, you—”
