Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
MAYA
I t’s hard to decide if I’m angrier at Logan or myself as Poe and Ares as they clatter down the stairs of the basement room, Cillian trailing behind me.
I was stupid to think that Logan wouldn’t push any advantage that I give him. Tearing through boundaries is just how he operates. I’d thought that his obvious jealousy of my time would be enough to maintain a fissure in the pack dynamic, but he outplayed me with this.
Poe and Ares are more excited than I’ve ever seen them. I doubt that a night with me is the sole reason, they just seem obsessed with the competition of it all.
They practically bounded down the hallway after deciding on a venue for their fight, pushing and shoving like children on the playground. Cillian followed more sedately behind them, but the resigned set of his shoulders tells me he’ll be absolutely no help in putting an end to this.
I could have just insisted on staying with him, and maybe I should have.
But the nights I’ve already spent in bed with him still feel etched in my head.
How good it felt to wake with his skin pressed against mine.
The bond is too seductive. Biology working against my mental faculties, whispering and cajoling me to fully accept it.
It isn’t love, I know that but feels so similar that it’s hard to tell the difference.
I know the more time I spend with him, the harder it will be to ignore the pull of that cursed bond.
At the top of the basement stairs, I freeze.
A familiar scent nearly doubles me over: the lingering traces of my and Cillian’s compelled heat, now overlaid with the equally alluring and repulsive smell of Logan’s spend.
My stomach churns with revulsion and urges that I would very much like to pretend I don’t feel.
Cillian hesitates on the stair just ahead of me, immediately sensing that I’m no longer following him.
“It’s better to get this over with quickly,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that the others can’t hear. “If you let them get really rolling, one of them is going to get hurt.”
I hate admitting to the weakness. “I can’t.”
“You can,” he replies tonelessly, turning fully around to face me. The familiar mask has descended over his features, impenetrable as the whiteout of a snowstorm. “You’ve already managed far worse.”
“I don’t want to go back down there.”
His hand twitches once as if he plans to reach out and touch me, but falls back to his side before he does. “It’s just a room. The memories are in your head, and avoiding this place won’t make them go away.”
The words shouldn’t be comforting, but they are. I’d run from Logan a year ago and fallen into a far worse situation. Then I tried to run again, only to find myself not only back where I started, but somewhere far worse than I could have imagined.
Running won’t solve anything.
Below us, Poe and Ares are already clearing space in the center of the room, pushing together floor mats and clearing debris with alarming efficiency.
“Are they actually going to fight?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “Just for the right to have me in their bed for the night? That’s all?”
Cillian’s lips quirk into something resembling a smile, but his eyes remain serious. “They’ve fought over significantly less in the past.”
“Like what?”
“The last piece of bacon. Who gets to drive. Which movie to watch.” He shrugs. “It’s how Alphas settle things when they’re part of the same pack. Physical dominance without permanent damage.”
I watch as Ares strips off his shirt, revealing muscles that ripple beneath his skin like they are each an individual living thing. Poe remains fully clothed but rolls his shoulders and neck with deliberate precision.
“And what about you?” I ask, not looking at Cillian. “Aren’t you going to fight for your chance?”
“Would you want me to?”
The question catches me off guard. Would I? The truth is that Cillian’s bed is the only one where I’ve felt something close to safe.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Then I won’t.” He steps past me, heading down the stairs. “Come on. The sooner they start, the sooner we can all go to sleep.”
Cillian gestures for me to precede him down the stairs. My shoulder just barely brushes his chest as I pass him, and I feel the heat of it even through our clothes. I instinctively lean away because of just how strong the urge is to lean closer.
I follow Cillian down the stairs, unable to tear my eyes away from the spectacle unfolding before me.
Ares stretches his arms overhead, muscles rippling beneath his skin like living things.
Poe is more subdued, but I recognize the predatory focus in his eyes—the same look he had before slitting Darius’s throat.
“This is no weapons allowed, right?” I call to them.
Ares holds up his hands with a smirk. “These are the only weapons I need.”
“None of my knives will come off my body,” Poe assures me with a confident smile. “I’d hate to let a blade slip near Ares’s face and make that situation even worse for you when you inevitably end up in his bed on a different night than this one.”
Ares chuckles as he cracks his neck. “That’s a lot of confidence for a man I outweigh by fifty pounds.”
“Maintaining that bulk doesn’t give you much time for perfecting your fighting techniques. I’m about to show you why that’s a problem.”
“Is this really happening?” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.
“This is how Alpha’s entertain themselves,” Cillian says dryly. “If they don’t get to taunt each other for a few minutes before beating the shit out of each other, then it all feels a little pointless.”
Ares’s grin is sharp and eager. “Ready to lose, shadow man?”
Poe’s face remains impassive. “Overconfidence is so predictable.”
They circle each other like wolves, testing boundaries with quick jabs that never quite connect. The tension in the room thickens, and I hold my breath.
The real fight starts so suddenly that I can’t even register who throws the first punch. One moment they’re circling each other. In the next, there is a blur of motion and the sound of impacting flesh.
Poe ducks under Ares’s wide swing and drives his fist into the larger man’s ribs.
Ares grunts but doesn’t slow down. His movements are precise despite his size, catching Poe’s arm and twisting it behind his back.
Poe responds by dropping his weight and flipping forward, breaking the hold with a maneuver that looks impossible for anyone with normal joints.
They move like dancers with choreography designed to destroy. Every attack flows into defense flows into counterattack. It’s mesmerizing and terrifying all at once.
“You’re quicker than you look,” Ares says, blood already trickling from a split lip.
Poe’s only response is a swift kick aimed at Ares’s knee that the larger man barely blocks.
When Ares manages to get his arms around Poe’s torso, lifting him completely off the ground, my heart leaps into my throat. The sound of Poe’s body hitting the concrete floor echoes through the basement, making me gasp aloud.
“Careful!” I call out, but neither man acknowledges me.
Poe recovers with startling speed, rolling away from Ares’s attempt to pin him. He springs back to his feet and drives the heel of his palm upward into Ares’s face with a sickening crunch. Blood sprays from Ares’s nose, spattering across his chest in crimson droplets.
I look over at Cillian, expecting him to be as horrified as I am, but his attention is entirely elsewhere. He scrolls through something on his tablet, completely unconcerned as the two Alphas try to maim each other.
“You’re not even watching?” I say in astonishment.
Cillian glances up briefly before returning his attention to the screen. “I’m requesting a delivery of medical supplies to the apartment.”
“Forget medical supplies. They’re going to kill each other!”
“Not likely. There would already be blood on the floor if this were serious,” he replies with a careless shrug. “This is normal. They’ve done worse to each other over less important things.”
“Where I sleep cannot possibly be this important.”
He snorts, not bothering to dignify that with a response.
I return my attention to the fight. Ares roars as Poe lands another blow to his already broken nose. Blood pours down his face, but he’s grinning through it, eyes wild with something that looks disturbingly like joy.
“You need to break this up,” I insist, grabbing Cillian’s arm.
“Why would I do that? Logan told them to fight for you so they’re fighting.” His tone is maddeningly calm. “Besides, neither of them will cause permanent damage. They know their limits.”
As if to contradict his words, Poe slams into the wall with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs with a pained groan. He slides down, momentarily dazed, and Ares pounces, landing a hit to the smaller man’s face with a sickening crunch.
I can’t watch this anymore. These men are fighting over me like I’m some prize to be won, and Cillian just letting it happen. The violence, the possessiveness—it’s everything I hate about Alphas distilled into one brutal spectacle.
“This is barbaric,” I whisper, feeling sick as Poe recovers enough to drive his elbow into Ares’s temple.
Cillian finally looks up at me, his ice-chip eyes unreadable. “Welcome to pack dynamics. This is how we settle things.”
Unless Logan tells us what to do is the part he leaves unspoken.
Barbarism aside, with neither man willing to concede, I have to wonder what kind of night awaits me with whichever blood-soaked victor emerges.
Once emotions get this high, Alphas either fight or they fuck.
The fight will end, but that energy will only have one outlet left.
Me.
“Enough!” I shout, launching myself between them without thinking.