His full lips part in preparation for whatever he’s going to say, but I have to get the hell out of here. I walk out against their protests. They just don’t get it. I want them, even though I shouldn’t, but at what cost. I either divide their coven or lose track of what I’m doing here. A set of keys sit solitary on the kitchen counter. I walk past them and then stop and retrace my steps. I snatch them up and silence the tinkling sound they make, in a closed fist. The jagged edges press against my skin, and I see them for the sign they are, freedom.
22
Ilean against the brick wall of the bar and try to decide where I should go next. My gym rat attire and absence of an ID, have me standing outside instead of inside like I was wanting. I probably should have thought through grabbing my wallet before I stole a car and drove into town.
I’m not really sure what I’m even doing here. I don’t even drink. I’m not opposed to it I’ve just never done it. Clubs and bars aren’t really my scene, but it called to me when I spotted the neon lights in the distance.
I’m still riled up and itching with aggression, and I thought I could just sit inside and quietly wait for a good bar fight. I tried to explain this the bouncer, but he just looked at me like I had lost my mind and told me to leave. I debated for a second if the bouncer would fight me if I just stayed right where I was, but he didn’t seem like someone who’d be the kind of challenge I need right now.
Two men pile out of the entrance of the bar bringing some of the noise from inside with them. They lean against the wall a couple feet down from me and light cigarettes.
“Who are you going to bet on?” The lumberjack looking dude asks his friend who’s a dead ringer for Liev Schreiber.
“Torrez, obviously. The guy’s a mountain. I don’t care what the pumas say; there’s no way McClain is going to beat him.”
“What about Stevens? I’ve seen him train. I think he’s got a shot,” Lumberjack replies.
Liev snorts. “Please, Torrez can fight all night back to back and still not lose. He’s done it before.”
“You think anyone else will challenge him?”
“I will,” I announce and push away from the brick wall.
The two men look me over as I settle in next to them.
“Get real little witch, you could use every ounce of power in that tight body of yours, and you’d still get torn apart,” Liev tells me and his lips purse with amusement.
I give him a sweet look from under my lashes. “Maybe, or maybe not. Let’s find out. What have you got to lose?” I ask innocently.
The two men chuckle and send each other looks that question my sanity, and debate if that matters to them. I wait patiently. If they refuse me, I’m just going to follow them, but they don’t need to know that.
Liev shrugs and flicks his cigarette. He kicks off the wall and walks over to a shiny black Harley. He lifts a helmet from the seat and holds it out to me. I jingle the keys in my hand and smile at him.
“I’ll follow you.”
* * *
Islam the door of the white Range Rover and walk towards the two men who are climbing off their motorcycles. We’re at some type of fairgrounds and music and shouts stream out from a small arena that looks like it was designed for a rodeo. Rows of bleacher-style seats surround an enclosed oval of packed dirt. Tall lights illuminate everything and snarls fill the night as I follow my escorts up the stairs that lead to the seats.
Just as we enter the walkway, everyone jumps up out of their seats screaming and shouting at whoever is in the middle of the arena. Bodies block my view, and I follow the lumberjack as he elbows his way through the aggravated crowd.
“They must have started early, fuck, I could have made some money off this fight. Just look at McClain,” Liev shouts behind him to the lumberjack, and his words float back to me too.
An empty stretch of bleachers open up, and I step up on the seat so I can see over the men who are crowding the barrier. A gray wolf, the size of a horse, shakes his head violently, the tiger sized mountain lion between his jaws yowls and claws to get free. The wolf thrashes again, and a loud crack echoes over the dirt. The mountain lion goes limp, its head wobbling as the wolf gives one last shake before releasing the lifeless body, to drop, heavy, to the ground.
I watch wide-eyed as the wolf saunters through an open gate and disappears. The crowd is a mix of elation and bitter disappointment. They start to settle and get ready for the next match.
“I warned you, little witch, you’re out of your league,” Liev tells me. “That’s the Silas pack beta, and no one beats him aside from the alpha himself.”
Men drag the limp mountain lion out of the arena, and a guy follows behind them kicking dirt over the streaks of blood.
Lumberjack leans down to me. “He’ll heal, can you say the same?” He gestures at the open gate they just dragged the mountain lion through.
“Nope, I’m pretty sure if I get broken in half, I’m going to stay that way,” I admit.
The reality of that doesn’t have me rethinking my decision but instead excites me on a level that’s definitely not normal. I scan the faces of the crowd that I now know is predominately shifter, and I offhandedly wonder if any of them are grizzlies. I know jack-shit about shifters and their culture, but I could definitely be down to hang with this crowd for fight night.
A man covered in only shorts walks out into the empty arena. The crowd around me stands and starts shouting and cheering. Torrez looks to be about six feet tall, and he has a black beard and a mohawk of long dreads. He’s Latino, and his dark brown eyes are shrewd and ready.
