Hi, Yvaine. It’s Logan from DD. How are you? Do you want to meet up after the game on Sunday?
CHAPTER 31
YVAINE
“Oh, Saint Luke, the game hasn’t even started, Yvaine. Calm down!” Amaia snatched my right hand, which was unfairly torturing the sleeve of my sweater.
Makena cackled so loudly from the seat behind mine that the guy in front glanced over at us.
The fateful day had finally come and made its presence well known. My heart and bodily functions had been tormented and were overcharged already.
“I knew I should’ve packed my portable defibrillator,” Amaia muttered when I made a duck-like sound.
“Or a tranquilizer,” Makena added. “More appropriate. Wearepart animals.”
I tried to glare at her, but my eyes strayed to my dad sitting next to me. With his massive frame hunched forward, a silver-ringed fist resting under his chin, and the number 3 stitched across his old Highlander jersey, the Comet Alpha seemed to have heard nothing of our conversation. Too busy keeping Mother at bay; she had announced—loudly—that she intended to flash her MacKenzie-flag-painted boobs at the rival players asa tactical distraction. It didn’t look like she’d been kidding. Not that you could ever know with Isabella MacKenzie.
The whole pack was at the arena—every single member, even those who had no idea what wereball was, even the ones who had left the pack or moved overseas—to watch the game of the year. Everyone was buzzed, like junkies waiting for their hit of violence; they required it, needed it, and no one wanted to lose the event or not be a part of it.
I’d already noticed a couple of teens smashing their fists together, warming up like they might get called in to fight. A few had stripped down to athletic shorts for easy wolf shifting. And a man in his seventies was sharpening a machete on a knife sharpener placed between his knees!
The Shooting Stars, led by none other than Tiziano wielding his megaphone, was already chanting with drums. Large sacks of rocks and bricks were ready to be emptied, barbed bats and random car parts laid out in organized rows for maximum carnage. People were even straining their vocal cords already from the amount of screaming and shouting.
All unnecessary. I shivered at the prospect of the inevitable bloodshed.
My eyes flicked to the opposite side. The enemy side. Their fans had gone full cosplay. Some dressed as Terminators, arms painted with blue cracks like broken glass. Others had deformed skull masks and bones painted on their legs and arms. Then there were the girls.
Signs everywhere, each one more disturbing than the next:
Mate me, Captain!
Terminate me!
I love you, my only captain!
My wolf wanted to find a gigantic whacker and mow them down like weeds infesting a lawn. The one I glared at the most had a banner that said,Put a pup in me, Thor!
I actually had to grip the seat to stop myself from jumping down there, grabbing Tiziano’s megaphone, and communicating a nice, calm,Sorry to break it to you, hoes, but he’s taken. Half-moon necklace? See? I’ve got the matching one!
And because I was a doctor, I wouldn’t end it with, “choke on that.” Again, I wouldn’t wish a fellow doctor more work because of my immature jealousy.
“Your parents will think you’re high on wolfsbane,” Amaia grumbled after I crossed and uncrossed my legs for the fifteenth time. I shrugged, waving off her concern.
Makena snorted a laugh and draped an arm over my shoulders. “My girl, you’re wound tighter than a virgin’s corset.”
I was stacked between a robot and a heartless woman, and both were making fun of my misfortune.
“What would you know about a virgin’s corset?” shouted Tiziano through his megaphone. His multitasking skills were evident—eavesdropping and hurling threats at the opposing Ultras.
Makena flipped him off her fourth finger—the middle one was too commercial, according to her.
“I’d like to see you in my situation,” I shot back at Makena, crossing my leg over the otheragain.
“Oh, please. It’s just a game!” Makenatsked, shoving a fistful of pineapple candy into her mouth before holding the bag out to me. “When it’s over, you’ll still be the mate of Mr. We-Know-Who, and your twin will still be your twin.”
“If there’s anything left of either of them,” I groused, stealing a handful of candies.Oh, Stephen, please keep them away from each other’s precious jugulars. You can damage a toe, maybe a kidney if you really have to, but I need their throats operational, thank you in advance.
“The question is…will there be anything left ofyourneck after the game? I heard Mr. We-Know-Who’s fangs are longerthan my hand!” She wiggled it in front of my face for comparison.
