Chapter 28 #2
“Guess we’ll see if your super-secret training is really all that,” Jett taunts. “And when the entire crowd sees how much you’ve failed, then it’s my turn to play with the omega.”
It’s Rowan’s turn to grip the railing of the balcony with white knuckles.
“You bet on the guys,” I murmur softly, lowering my head so a curtain of my hair hides the fact that I’m more than a speechless accessory.
“I did,” Rowan grits out. “They’ve got bad odds, but that just means we make more money when we win.”
“So you do believe in them.”
“I’ve got to,” he says, shooting me a heavy, tired look. “They’re our only hope.”
My gaze darts towards the fighting cage where a couple more handlers carry in a table full.
“Are those knives,” I gasp, my eyes going wide and my hands flying to my mouth as I try and suppress the nausea rising in my gut.
“Yeah,” Rowan says, pursing his lips at the sight of the weapons. “Shit, I should’ve put another bet down that Ash would be the first at the weapons table too. Oh well. I think with the bets I put down we’ll have a good chance of winning a lot, if things go to plan.”
It takes everything I have not to turn to him and shake his shoulders. How can he be talking about winning a bet when there are, presumably, four angry alpha fighters with access to knives who’re going to try and hurt my alphas!
My strawberry shortcake scent grows bitter and stale as I try—and fail—to swallow down my rising fear.
“They dull the knives,” Rowan says, trying to soothe my increasing panic. Unsuccessfully, I might add. “The fighters are trained not to kill their opponents. Dead fighters don’t make for very good stock.”
The scars on Rage and Ash’s bodies start to make sense. They’re the kinds of scars that you can’t get from just fighting with fists. I guess the knives being dull means the fighters survive. Mostly.
“But some of them don’t listen to the rules!” I hiss through my teeth. “Like that last fight!”
“That’s why all of them have collars,” Rowan says, his gaze darting between my eyes.
He shifts ever so slightly closer and I can tell he’s fighting the urge to tuck me into his side to calm my nerves.
But that kind of physical affection isn’t a good idea here. We have roles to play.
Him the new up and coming feral alpha trainer who uses me, the new omega tool and plaything.
Not the shy beta who always gives me the hoodie off his own back when I show any hint of being cold, who got me all the supplies for a nest I never dared to dream about.
The buzzer sounds and I nearly jump out of my skin.
Two thick metal gates swing open and there’s a beat of silence, like the entire crowd is collectively holding their breath.
A flurry of movement comes barreling out of one of the tunnels, kicking up fresh sand as it sprints towards the weapons table.
I catch sight of Ash’s dirty blonde buzz cut before he grabs two of the knives before swiping off the other three on the table and kicking them into the sand under the table, all before the first fighter of the other team even makes it out of the tunnel.
It hits me then. Ash is hiding the other weapons.
None of the other fighters are going to spend time digging around in the sand to find the other knives, not when there’s a fight right in front of them. That leaves Ash with the only two knives in the ring.
The first alpha from the other team, a large man—larger than Ash—with a bald head and a litany of scars, comes barreling towards Ash, his arms outstretched and ready to take him to the ground.
Ash dodges, using the other alpha’s momentum to kick him forward, making him stumble. That gives Ash the perfect opportunity to slash at the back of his thigh with a knife.
Griffin and Rage appear a split second later, Rage charging at the next fighter who comes out the tunnel.
I’m too far away to hear, but I swear I see Ash say something along the lines of “too slow,” to Griffin before tossing him the other knife.
A strangled cry leaves my throat when I see that moment of distraction leaving Ash wide open for the first bald alpha’s attack. Even though there’s blood dripping down his leg, he still manages to lunge forward, his fist smashing into Ash’s face.
My breaths come in short, quick, desperate pants as I soak in the pure unadulterated violence of the ring. Everything is so chaotic. I can barely see what’s going on. All I know is there’s blood being spilled onto the sand, and some of it comes from my alphas.
I feel like I’m going to pass out.
“Fuck, Sugar, you good?” Rowan mutters, gripping my elbow as I wobble in the heels.
I’m so hypnotized and horrified by the sight of violence in front of me that I can’t even feel the pain from my throbbing toes anymore.
“I—I can’t look anymore,” I whisper, my voice breaking, right along with my heart as I hear Rage let out an angry roar of pain. “Please don’t make me look anymore.”
“Shit,” Rowan mutters. “You—you have to stay here, Sugar. ‘Cause you have to stay by me and I have to stay here and—“
“Please!” I plead under my breath, tears clinging to my lower lashes. I can’t rip my gaze away. But I need to look away. My heart can’t take the violence. I feel like I’m going to vomit right over the balcony railing and out onto the crowd.
“Okay, okay,” Rowan says, panicked. “I’m sorry, but this is the only way. Kneel next to me. You won’t be able to see over the railing.”
I fall to my knees instantly, my legs unable to hold my weight anymore.
Rowan lets out a soft noise of alarm at the back of his throat, but he doesn’t move to help me.
He can’t, without it seeming suspicious.
I shift my weight, settling into position with my knees on the cold concrete and my forehead pressed against the barrier as I fight to control my breathing.
It takes everything I have to keep from vomiting all over myself, because even though I can’t see the fight anymore, I can still hear everything going on. The roars of pain. The screams and cheers of the jeering crowd.
It’s impossible, given how noisy the room is, but I swear I can still hear the impacts of fist on flesh from up here, and my heart breaks every time.
Things have been okay in the little bubble of this past month, but I think that’s because I didn’t fully comprehend what exactly the three of them were training for.
I don’t know if I can handle this.
Facing the wall, my hair hiding my face from the gazes of anyone else who may be looking at me, I let the tears fall silently down my cheeks.