Chapter 5
Five
Neil
There was no doubt in my mind that Doyle was going to screw me over somehow, but I never thought it would be with something as simple as grammar.
It wasn’t until Raquel was shoved through the door into this Thunderdome knock-off seconds after I was that I considered this isn’t the South where they have a convenient plural form of the word “you.” So when Doyle said “as long as you put on a good show,” he meant both of us, not just me.
And now here we are, completely screwed—and not in the fun way.
I immediately move backward, herding Raquel so her back is against the wall, and position myself in front of her as best I can.
The two shifters to our right barely spare us a glance, their attention focused on the opposite side of the ring, presumably where this so-called champion will enter.
Either these two have watched these fights before or they were given a lot more information than I was.
Of course, any information at all would be more than I got.
I’m not even sure how long we have before this whole thing kicks off. Since the champion doesn’t seem to be here yet, I assume there’s at least a little time before I’ll be fighting for my life. And Raquel’s.
I glance around our surroundings, my mind spinning as I try to come up with some sort of strategy. A way to get the hell out of here would be even better, but I don’t think that’s happening with this set up.
The circular fighting pit is recessed at least ten feet below the stands and there’s some sort of chain-link dome over it which means the simplest escape route—jump out of the ring and go through the crowd—definitely isn’t feasible.
The door we came through is electronic, and the larger steel gate across from us probably is too, so we won’t be getting through either of them.
The floor is concrete all the way to the wall, the only opening a square drain in the center which, even if I could get the grating off, isn’t big enough for me or Raquel to crawl through.
And that about sums up our options. None. Zip. Zero.
I swallow nervously and turn my head so I can see Raquel. She’s gone pale, a slight greenish tinge to her face. She meets my eyes and inhales shakily.
“Any ideas?” she asks quietly, her voice cracking.
I shake my head and send a pointed look at the two other shifters before tapping a finger against my ear.
My friend has only had a crash course in shifters, but I did explain that our senses are heightened—especially hearing and smell—and I don’t want to discuss anything the other two might overhear.
“Just stay back for now,” I say. “We’ll see how this plays out.”
She presses her lips together and nods in understanding.
I run my gaze over the setup again, searching desperately for anything at all that might be a way out, but there’s nothing.
I don’t know why I thought there was a possibility things would be any different.
Doyle’s little shifter fight club clearly isn’t new, and he’s obviously put plenty of time and thought into how to keep the fighters in the ring and away from the audience. And the exits.
What’s worse, in a way, is that the spectators aren’t only shifters. There are humans up there too, and given how things are set up, the people in audience are going to know the fighters are shifters. That is, if they don’t already know.
Exposing our secret to humans is punishable by death if the triumvirate finds out.
The fact that Doyle seems to have no issue with doing exactly that is…
disconcerting. He’s either paid people off to look the other way or he’s been getting away with this for so long he thinks there’s no risk.
Either way, the odds the triumvirate’s forces are waiting in the wings to raid this place are pretty much zero.
Escape isn’t possible and rescue isn’t coming.
Raquel and I are on our own.
And we’re probably going to die.
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly and trying to calm my racing heart. Then another. As long as I’m breathing, there’s a chance, and the last thing I need is to set off someone’s predatory instincts by smelling like fear.
A speaker crackles to life and an announcer’s voice reverberates through the space, the words drowned out by the shouts and cheers of the bloodthirsty crowd. Seconds later, the volume of the audience increases to an almost ear-splitting volume as the steel gate across from us slowly begins to open.
The spectators don’t seem nearly as bored with Doyle’s champion as he implied.
But that doesn’t matter now. My only focus needs to be keeping myself between Raquel and the other shifters.
I’m the only one here who can protect her.
Or, rather, the only one who cares to protect her.
Even if my wild fantasy of a triumvirate raid came true and a bunch of praetorians busted in right this second, we’re locked in here, and the massive alpha wolf stepping into the ring across from us looks like he could rip us apart in seconds.
Doyle’s champion is a hulking brute—the largest wolf I’ve ever seen—with pale golden fur edged with brown around his face.
Scars crisscross his sides, a story of brutality and violence written on his body, and a thick metal collar encases his neck.
The lower edge of the metal rests near his shoulder blades, the ring of sparse fur and raw skin making it clear the collar has been on for a very long time.
As the larger gate slides closed behind the wolf, I keep my eyes on the ground, only darting glances up at the alpha to keep track of what he’s doing. So far, he hasn’t moved from where he entered the ring and he mostly seems bored. And maybe tired.
His gaze comes up to check out his opponents, and I quickly avert my own.
The best thing to do right now is to do everything in my power to not piss him off.
As long as the alpha doesn’t come after me directly, there’s a chance the two overconfident volunteers looking to make a name for themselves can take care of him or at least weaken him.
But that also assumes that the two betas will injure themselves enough while taking on the larger wolf that I can handle them.
And all of this before anything happens to Raquel who’s basically helpless against any of them.
I take a small step backward, moving closer to my best friend. Eyes wide, her breath comes in quick pants and she’s pressed herself even closer to the wall as if she can sink into it if she tries hard enough.
I eyeball the alpha again, careful not to meet his gaze in case he takes it as a sign of aggression.
The two doofuses to my right are displaying enough aggression for all of us.
They’re puffing out their chests and bouncing on their toes like boxers, baring their teeth at the alpha who’s barely paying any attention to them at all, instead he’s staring at me.
That can’t be good.
“Just stay back, Raquel.” The weight of the alpha’s gaze on me seems to intensify, and I dart a glance at him before fixing my eyes on the concrete floor again. “I’ll do what I can to keep you safe, but the second I have to shift, things might get… interesting.”
She makes a questioning noise, but I shake my head, not willing to lose the small chance my secret might catch them all off guard.
There wasn’t a whole lot of time earlier to explain what me being an omega meant—thank goodness for Raquel’s fanfic obsession that she already knew the basics of the three designations—but I can at least be glad no one else is in wolf form at the moment. Well, besides the alpha.
Once I shift, my designation will be obvious to anyone else in wolf form or who is close enough to their wolf that their senses can pick up on my omega scent. I have no idea how the fact that I’m an omega is going to go over, but I’m hoping the element of surprise might work to my advantage.
Not that I have any idea how…
The noise of the crowd nearly drowns out the bell signaling the beginning of the fight, but the two betas immediately move into action.
I don’t know if they knew each other before all this, but they seem to be working together, both of them advancing on the alpha and quickly shifting into their wolf forms: one gray and one dark brown.
Put together, the two beta wolves might be equal in size to the alpha, but as individuals they appear almost tiny compared to the alpha’s bulk. The gray one darts forward, snapping his jaws at the alpha while the other circles to the side, coming up on the alpha’s right flank.
The alpha… doesn’t move. He simply stares at the wolf in front of him with a blank look. He doesn’t even react when the brown wolf lunges forward and nips at his side except to wince when the other wolf’s teeth rip at his fur.
What the hell is going on? Did they drug him or something?
That wouldn’t make much sense. Though, to be honest, neither does a fight to the death for entertainment. Still, this must be why Doyle said the audience was growing bored with the alpha.
The betas seem confused too, pausing their coordinated attack and taking a few steps backward to regroup.
A few seconds later, the brown one feints toward the alpha, getting no reaction.
The two betas share a look, then jump forward, the gray one landing half on the alpha’s back and the other trying to slide under him to get at his stomach.
I stay where I am, still in human form, blocking Raquel with my body as much as I can as the snarls of the two betas grow louder. And more excited. The viscousness layered in with the sound of their joy and triumph makes me wince.
I should be grateful. The betas are making things easier for me, increasing Raquel’s and my chance of survival with every slash and bite, but I can’t help but stare at the top of alpha’s lowered head, a feeling of pity and something I don’t understand welling up in my chest.
My wolf, normally a near-silent presence in the back of my head, lets out a mournful howl.
Why isn’t the alpha fighting back? Why isn’t he doing anything?
“What’s going on?” asks Raquel, her gaze focused on the two snarling betas and the bloodied alpha. “Why isn’t the big one fighting back?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But we’re staying out of it.” I gesture for her to circle around so we’re staying as far as possible from the bloodbath.
The crowd seems to have finally noticed the lack of fight in the alpha and are starting to jeer and boo, their excitement quickly shifting to scorn as the betas bite and tear at the nonresponsive alpha.
Their muzzles are covered in blood, but the alpha is still standing, the damage from the two betas not yet enough to bring him down.
But even with a shifter’s accelerated healing, it won’t be long before the alpha falls. Not at this rate.
And there’s a part of me that feels almost… sad about that. As if there’s something about the alpha that calls to me and doesn’t want to see him die. Especially not like this.
But I don’t have time to examine that feeling.
A pain-filled yelp drags my attention back to the fight.
The smaller brown wolf has managed to hamstring the alpha’s left hind leg, the limb hanging limply as the larger wolf shifts to the side.
The alpha closes his eyes as if forcing himself to not react any further, nothing but defeat and despair in his body language.
A lump crawls up the back of my throat and my eyes burn as my wolf paces in my chest, panting and whining, more active than he’s been in years.
I want to yell for the alpha to do something. To fight back.
I want to go to his side.
I want…
I want…
I don’t fucking know!
Raquel grabs my arm, startling me into movement, and I force my gaze away from the injured alpha. We continue edging along the side of the ring, keeping as much distance as possible between us and the active fight.
The betas continue attacking the nonresisting alpha, drawing blood on his flanks, his legs, his…
everywhere until it seems like there’s not an inch of that pale golden fur not covered in some sort of gore or blood.
And the volume of the crowd’s boos and jeers rises, all of them urging the “stupid fucking animal to fight back” to “not blow this” to “do something, you mangy mutt.”
The whole thing makes me sick, both in my stomach and my heart.
I miss what happens next, but the alpha finally, finally snarls, snapping his teeth at the gray wolf who’s trying for his neck and dodging out of the way. Not quickly enough. The beta locks on to the underside of the alpha’s neck, snarling and tugging, whipping his head from side to side.
For half a second, it looks like the alpha might actually fight back, but he closes his eyes again and allows his body to go limp, letting the other wolf continue to try and rip his throat out.
The speaker system crackles, a screech of feedback echoing through the space, and the alpha opens his eyes again at the high-pitched noise. His sad, defeated gaze finds mine, the two of us locking eyes for the first time.
The world seems to freeze around me, my wolf whining excitedly in my head as warmth flares in my chest and my vision narrows until the only thing I can see is the golden alpha wolf.
My fated mate.