And all over again. And my revenge on Tanner is waiting.
I need to force my thoughts back in line, hammer reminders into myself about why I’m here and what I have to do.
And with every moment, the reasons only multiply.
One of them is the most unsettling of all, the frightening possibility that there might come a point when I no longer want to leave. There could be something, or rather someone, strong enough to keep me here.
A certain hot alpha.
The thought alone sparks a deep, visceral resistance in me, something that pulls hard at my conscience. I could never betray Senu.
So with a grumpy face, I turn my back and head toward the tables.
In the arena, an alpha I recognize is warming up. His name is Bashir.
He has a bare chest and a dragon tattoo on his back, the red and blue ink contrasting with the dark bronze of his skin. His long black hair is braided from the crown of his head. He looks impressive and muscular, but not as much as Eliano. Also, Bashir has a slight hint of a beer belly, while Eliano’s body is pure muscle, chiseled to perfection.
Luckily, I manage to grab seats at one of the last free tables before the whole spectacle begins. Eliano, Evan, and Roman join me quickly with their trays. Eliano remembered about my tray, how nice of him. I didn’t bother to take any food, but he did, for me…
Not important, Salt!
I lift my eyes to the arena.
The ring is open on two sides and looks more like a bridge than a traditional fighting arena. Along one edge, a line of alphas has formed. There is also a green-haired Sector C employee named Pip.
Soon, Pip waves his hand, and someone else turns on music that is wild, fast, and pulsing with energy.
Evan mentions that Bashir has been undefeated for the past year, ever since another alpha, a former boxer, left the island after successfully getting his beta pregnant.
Evan also points out a table off to the side, where a young guy is standing.
"That’s Bashir’s beta, Fred."
The guy is cheering, jumping, and clapping loudly.
The employee, Pip, lifts his hands as if to give the signal to start.
The first alpha from the line charges toward Bashir at a run.
Evan leans in toward us and explains quietly,
"Each alpha has fifteen seconds to try to knock Bashir down, or he gets knocked out himself. If the attacker fails, he has to run off."
Sure enough, the first alpha barrels at Bashir like a battering ram, as if he wants to mow him down. Bashir is quicker, though. He steps aside and lands a clean punch to the side of the guy’s jaw. The alpha stumbles and has to grab the ropes to stay upright.
The timer sounds.
The next alpha rushes in, and the first exits the ring through the opposite open side.
The second does not try to ram him. He goes for a fast right hook, but Bashir seems to anticipate it, dodges, and kicks him hard in the shin.
Then another alpha follows, again trying to bulldoze his way through and failing. Then a fourth, swinging wildly with heavy fists.
This goes on for fifteen minutes.
Eventually, even excited Evan jumps up and runs to join the line, eager to test himself against Bashir, but none of them manage to take him down.
Unexpectedly, as the line of alphas grows shorter, Jeff approaches our bench.
