Chapter Eight
After trying on and abandoning nearly every one of Mimi’s outfits, I settled on a little blue cotton skirt with white lace frills, a white blouse and a blue denim jacket, which concealed my wings perfectly.
I was only glad they tucked so flat against my back.
The knee-high heeled boots I wore were a little big, but it meant my bandaged ankle fit easily inside.
I just hoped it wouldn’t get hot wherever we were going.
When I stepped out of the bathroom and into the all-in-one living room, dining and kitchen—and bedroom if the mattress wedged below the ceiling counted—Reuben let out a slow whistle.
“Gorgeous!”
My wingtips quivered, his appreciation making me tingle all over. Only Adam had ever made me react like this.
Adam.
Was he looking for me right now? Of course he was.
I was his pet, his asset! He wouldn’t let me go.
I was worth a fortune and he’d paid that for me just like he had for the rest of his rare collection—the Renaissance paintings that lined his hallways, the meteorite fragments in their velvet cases, the preserved specimens that no one else even knew existed.
Priceless because they were unique, irreplaceable. Just like me.
He might be studying other genetically altered humans who were spliced with animal DNA, but I knew for a fact I was the only thriving bat crossed with human. No one else of my kind was even moderately healthy, even less of us were still living and breathing.
I released an unsteady breath and shook off my thoughts to focus on the man in front of me. “You look pretty good too.”
I wasn’t lying. He wore faded, satin black shorts beneath a pristine, deep purple fighter’s robe. The white feathers of a war bonnet were imprinted down the back, the sash tied tight at his waist. I realized his robe was the one thing he took pride in, a small piece of order in his rough world.
He smiled. “Why do I get the feeling you don’t give out compliments very often?” His silver-blue eyes crinkled. “In which case, I’ll take any praise you dish out.”
I giggled, disarmed by his honesty, his lack of pretense. “When you’ve lived in a bubble like me, compliments don’t come easily.”
He cocked his head to the side. “You intrigue me with your snippets of information. Perhaps one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me your full life story.”
My throat dried. If only I could tell him! But I knew better than to trust a human or divulge any information that could be passed along to others who were even less trustworthy. “Perhaps,” I answered vaguely.
He exhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. He knew better than to believe me. He was a man of the world, hardened by the life he’d been born into. He’d effortlessly sniff out a half-truth or a full-blown lie.
A knock sounded at the door, interrupting the moment. Then a muffled voice called from outside, “Chief, your ride is here.”
Reuben reached for my hand. I accepted it without hesitation and followed him outside to where the sun blazed down from high in the sky, heating my skin and making me feel suffocated thanks to so little fresh air penetrating past the city’s aged buildings.
It was bizarre, I’d fought Adam every step of the way, yet I obeyed Reuben’s wishes without question.
Perhaps because, this time, I was given the choice.
One of Reuben’s armed men opened the back door to a big gray SUV, its thick panels and massive bulbar built to knock anything aside. I climbed in. I’d seen construction similar to this before—the reinforced walls of the isolation cell they’d thrown me into when I’d refused to cooperate.
The memory made my skin crawl.
I sank into the dark leather seat and looked out through the even darker tinted windows as Reuben settled beside me. I glanced his way. Who was he, really? Surely someone obscure wouldn’t need armed guards with assault rifles to escort him from his home?
One of the men climbed into the driver’s seat, the other into the front passenger seat.
The vehicle glided forward with a rumble of its engine, its extra wide tires swishing along the pot-holed road.
Outside, the buildings grew worse. Crumbling apartments gave way to rust-stained warehouses and towering stacks of shipping containers that loomed like silent sentinels.
Reuben opened a hidden panel inside the vehicle and retrieved tape and wraps, methodically winding them around his wrists, knuckles, and fingers with a precision that bordered on ritualistic. Each movement was sharp, silent, focused. And somehow unsettling.
I bit my lip, fighting down the flood of questions pressing at the edges of my mind. The less I asked about his world, the less he’d pry into mine. Lies were pointless. Pretending my past was anything but a prison would only make me vulnerable.
Though I was free of the cell I’d inhabited at the facility, then the rooms I’d moved into at Adam’s home, survival instincts still clung to me like a second skin. Every quiet moment felt like waiting for the next blow.
The SUV glided to a smooth stop in front of a warehouse that was indistinguishable from the dozen others lining the street.
They were all squalid and unremarkable. It wasn’t until one of the men jumped out and opened the back door that abnormal sounds infiltrated, a dull roar that made the hairs on my arms stand up.
I climbed out and Reuben followed. I didn’t have time to let anything sink in. He proffered me an arm and I accepted before he led me toward the warehouse where the noise separated into distinct sounds. Shouting. Cheering. The sickening smack of fists against flesh.
I looked up at him as we approached an open door. Standing inside were two armed men in dark gray suits. They blended seamlessly with the warehouse walls. I narrowed my eyes, all too aware Reuben would be involved in the fighting and would likely get hurt. “You seriously want to do this?”
Reuben sent me a lazy smirk, cigarette smoke hazing the bright overhead industrial lights shining down between reinforced steel beams. “You’d prefer a man who’s forgotten how to be a man?”
I shivered. Though Reuben was as different from Adam as night was to day, both men emitted pure masculinity.
He lifted his dressed fists, reminding me of his primal impulses. “These give me my freedom.”
We entered one of four walkways that dissected rows of mismatched seats sloping downward, wrapping around a central ring below and drawing every eye to the heart of the action, a makeshift arena with no padding, no safety measures.
And though it was empty now, it remained charged with brutal, raw violence.
The crowd roared with feral energy, their shouts and jeers rising like waves crashing against the reinforced rafters. They weren’t cheering for the winner who’d walked away, they were demanding more blood. More pain. More spectacle.
I narrowed my eyes, my enhanced vision catching the trail of crimson smeared along the edge of the platform.
It glistened under the harsh lights, leading to a figure limping toward a side door, one arm cradled against his ribs.
He looked back, his face swollen, his skin split.
As the door slammed shut behind him, the crowd booed, impatient and restless for more.
Someone threw a bottle. It shattered against the raised platform, glass skittering across the floor.
Reuben didn’t flinch. He watched the chaos with a predator’s calm. “They’ll get what they came for,” he said, his voice low, certain.
Suspended above the ring, a massive screen displayed overhead footage from multiple angles. No doubt it’d show close-ups of the fighters, of the crowd’s reactions, and slow-motion replays of brutal hits.
I sucked in a breath. I didn’t like the idea of camera sweeps. I wanted to stay invisible and blend in with the crowd. Standing beside one of the fighters made me stand out like blood in shark-infested waters. I managed to swallow back rising panic to instead look around and take it all in.
Though the air was thick with sweat, testosterone, and the metallic scent of blood, the crowd was as much a mix of expensive suits as it was street thugs. Everyone was united by the hunger in their eyes as money changed hands faster than I could track.
An announcer fed off the crowd’s savagery, his voice thundering over the chaos like a war drum rattling deep into bones. “Ladies and gentlemen, tonight we give you pure, unfiltered combat! Make some noise for our next competitors, the stars of the show! Chief and Bloodhound!”
The side door slammed open and a giant of a man with a green Mohawk and a flattened nose, his biceps bulging under inked skulls, strode out to a thunderous roar.
He climbed through the ropes, all menace and muscle, clearly delighting in the crowd’s roar, soaking it in like fuel.
The spotlight lingered on him for a few seconds longer before it shifted.
Reuben—Chief—hadn’t moved. Not yet.
Then he turned to me, and everything slowed. The chaos around us fell into a hush that almost felt sacred. His eyes locked onto mine, not with tenderness, but with possession. With purpose.
Then, without warning, he grabbed me by the waist and kissed me.
It wasn’t gentle. It was a declaration. A brand. A touch that left my lips tingling and my body aching even as my mind turned numb. The kiss might have scorched through my body like fire, but it was the aftermath that burned deeper.
The crowd erupted, half in awe, half in envy. Cameras flashed. Chants rose. My breath caught, my body frozen between instinct and confusion.
Chief pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips, “You’re my lucky charm.”
He peeled off his robe, slow and deliberate, revealing rippling musculature along with scars that told stories I didn’t want to know. The crowd roared again, but I barely heard it. My eyes were on the cameras, those blinking red eyes perched on shoulders, mounted to rails, held up by eager hands.
They’d captured everything.
My face.
His kiss.
The way I didn’t pull away.
Then Reuben—no, he truly was Chief now—stalked down the stairs and toward the fight ring like a king returning to his throne.
I felt it then. The cold slide of fear down my spine. Not because of Reuben. Not because of Bloodhound. But because somewhere, Adam was watching. Or would be. The underground footage would spread like wildfire. And he’d see me.
His creation.
His runaway.
His asset.
My pulse stuttered. I tried to shrink into the shadows, but it was too late. I’d been lit up like a flare.
Reuben pulled on his fight gloves, then climbed into the ring like he belonged to it. Like it had missed him. The crowd chanted his name, but I couldn’t join them. I was already calculating escape routes. Already wondering how long I had before Adam sent someone to drag me back.
Lucky charm? No. I’d just become a beacon.