Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
CHRISTIAN
Ash circled the cage, eyes hard but observant, and Christian grinned in anticipation. This was what he wanted. A real, all-out fight where it was kill or be killed. No punches pulled, just his strength and will pitted against another man’s.
The noise of the crowd dulled to static. His whole world narrowed to Ash’s eyes and his controlled movements. Christian’s body was already beginning to map his, even as his mind worked through everything he’d seen so far. Fast, focused, but tight in the right shoulder—maybe favoring an old injury?
Five long minutes later, heaving for breath, with sweat and blood mixing on his skin, Christian realized just how much strength and will he was going to need.
Ash was good. He was fighting in front of his alpha, and hungry for the win.
He was six inches taller than Christian, giving him a longer reach.
But the height also meant a higher center of gravity. If Christian could use it—
Oh fuck yes. Like that.
When Christian took someone down, they stayed down.
It had always been that way, and that sure as hell wasn’t going to change just because this guy was slippery as a greased eel, twisting and bucking beneath him.
Christian locked in, his thighs screaming from the strain of holding him, and wrenched the angle tighter.
Ash choked out a gasp and finally tapped.
Christian held him a second longer—just long enough to be sure—then pushed to his feet, his pulse thundering. He could taste blood, but the rest of him was buzzing with the high of a fight hard-won. And yet—
The shifters in the crowd were too quiet. That set every instinct on edge. His gaze swept the room, found Dave in the back corner, with the blond guy close beside him again. Dave’s posture was alert, tense. He felt it too, that sense of threat.
Christian gave him a subtle nod, warning him to be ready for whatever was coming. He turned back as the cage door opened, and Tony appeared, his face unreadable.
“Barton wants to see you,” he said.
Christian followed him out of the cage, each step seeming to cool the blood in his veins, like walking deeper into shadow.
Near the far wall, Barton waited. Three shifters flanked him, danger and threat rolling off them.
Barton looked almost ordinary, but the air around him felt strange, as if gravity had shifted slightly off center.
He said nothing, and he didn’t move. He just stood there with his arms crossed, watching Christian approach.
Powerful men didn’t have to say much, Christian knew. Matt certainly didn’t.
Christian dipped his head in respect but kept his gaze level. He didn’t know what this was, and he wasn’t going to put himself at any more of a disadvantage than he already was, outnumbered and facing a strange alpha.
“That wasn’t a bad fight,” Barton said, voice quiet but certain.
“It was a good fight,” Christian said simply. Because it had been.
The alpha jerked his head once, and the three wolves peeled away without a word. Tony retreated too, leaving them alone.
“Christian Taylor, right?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, Christian Taylor,” Barton said, voice smooth yet somehow dark, “I have a proposition for you.”
* * *
By the time Christian left Barton’s side, he was being studied. And not just by those two women from the bar, who’d tried hanging off him earlier, claiming credit for introducing him. Trying to claim more than that, until he’d pulled away.
No, the people watching him were Barton’s pack members.
He was being watched now, and assessed. He moved through the crowd, shoulder bumping against shoulders, and for once he didn’t mind it.
Every bump and jostle reaffirmed where he was—among people who saw him.
Who’d seen what he could do and respected him for it.
The ache in his ribs, the sting of sweat in cuts, even the tightness of drying blood on his neck all felt like confirmation.
He caught sight of Dave across the room, talking to someone near the betting table.
Christian couldn’t hear what he was saying, but his body was loose, relaxed in that casual, unthreatening way he had.
Pride swelled in Christian. Dave was good at this stuff, smart and calm and able to blend in wherever he went.
That wasn’t something Christian could manage, but between them, they could do anything.
Here, everything was different from Elk Ridge.
That had been a good place, but the peace there had been broken, with strangers coming in and enemies forgiven.
That soft, steady rhythm the pack had settled into was gone, replaced with.
.. something else. Something Christian couldn’t quite name, except that it felt complicated.
Here, life was simple. He had the chance to fight, and whether he won or lost was in his hands.
He found a quiet spot near the back wall where he could stretch.
His body ached in the right way, and it was satisfying because he’d earned every bruise.
That was what he wanted—work that felt clean, not muddied by politics or forgiveness or those damn unspoken expectations he was always the last to figure out.
Elk Ridge had never been permanent, not that anywhere ever was. They’d ended up there by chance, and it had worked for a while. But this? This could be a place they chose. Somewhere to build something new together.
He’d tell Dave tonight. Maybe it’d taken Dave a while to warm up to the place, but Christian knew—this was starting to feel like theirs. Like home. Dave would want this too.
DAVE
That weird vibe at the end of Christian’s fight had Dave excusing himself from Justin and drifting around the edge of the cavernous room until he was closer to Christian, ready to back him up, whatever was coming.
When he saw Christian talking to Barton, the hairs rose on Dave’s neck at all the different ways this might go wrong if Christian didn’t rein himself in.
And then he saw Christian’s stance change, his shoulders losing that rigid tension.
Whatever was going on, it wasn’t dangerous.
Or rather, it didn’t look as if Christian was being threatened.
That still left a whole range of possibilities, and Dave found himself bouncing slightly on his toes, ready to move if he had to.
He only relaxed fully once Christian walked away from Barton, who watched Christian before briefly meeting Dave’s gaze.
He held it for an instant, but it felt like so much longer.
In that moment, Dave was certain Barton had seen right inside him and knew why they were here.
Except, as he was able to breathe again, he realized Barton couldn’t know—if he had any idea they were digging around for information among his pack members, he’d have thrown them out.
Christian had been almost immediately surrounded, practically mobbed by fans, including those women from the bar who were telling anyone who’d listen that they were responsible for the new star fighter.
Dave couldn’t help the small twist in his stomach. Not because Christian was happy—he wanted that for him—but because this place didn’t see all of him. They just saw the fighter.
And fighting was a distraction from what they were here to do. Getting justice for Jesse and his pack was one part of it, but if they could find out who was responsible, they’d know their enemy and be able to defend themselves. It was hellishly important.
He drifted between conversations, bottle in his hand, catching nods from a few who now recognized him as Christian’s.
He smiled and struck up casual talk where he could.
Weather. The fights. The old plant itself, as if it were an interesting venue.
Then, easy as anything, he started talking about the cliffs.
“Went out hiking earlier,” he said to a shifter standing near the betting table, watching the next fighters warming up. “We found these caves—north of the town, up on a cliff? Kinda looked like there used to be something out there. Thought it might’ve been military, or maybe old pack land?”
The guy raised an eyebrow, took a drink, and shrugged. “Don’t know. You’d have to ask Barton if you’re curious about history.”
That was the third person who’d said something like that tonight. A few others just offered short answers or changed the subject. Dave hadn’t expected to get anything concrete, but the pattern was starting to worry him more than silence would have.
He threw caution to the winds—every day that passed was a day closer to the Council’s investigation starting up.
“I s’pose the National Council might know if it was old pack land,” he said. “I heard they got involved here when Barton became alpha.”
The shifter narrowed his eyes, and Dave realized he was one of the fighters who’d been in the cage earlier, which meant violence was a way of life to him. “You ask a lot of questions.”
Dave shrugged, with a friendly smile. “Just passing the time, waiting for Christian. I’ve got to keep myself busy somehow.”
He turned away, releasing a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Probably best not to ask anyone else tonight.
What he really needed to know was which councilor had been involved in ruling on the dispute, he realized belatedly. In hindsight, it didn’t matter if this pack had known about Jesse’s, because that didn’t change anything.
As the night wore on, Dave drifted back to the quieter part of the factory, nursing his beer and watching the fights through the chain-link fence. The air here felt charged. Every person in the place seemed to have something to prove.
He thought suddenly, painfully, of Elk Ridge.
He missed the warmth of a kitchen full of noise—Jason swearing under his breath while Jesse snagged “quality control” samples from the pan.
Riley, setting the table and telling Jesse off with a laugh in his voice that meant he was only doing it because Jason was frustrated.
Riley wasn’t a shifter, but he belonged.
That mattered in ways Dave couldn’t quite explain.
He wondered what a pack like this would make of someone like Riley—non-shifter, and without a single violent instinct in his body.
Or of Bryce, with his corny jokes and giant heart.
Tristan, vibrating with energy, and Karl, who said little but somehow was always there, especially for Colby.
And at the heart of it all, Matt—steady, quiet, and utterly unshakable in his care for them.
The thought of them all made Dave’s chest ache.
He looked around now at Barton’s pack—so wary, so at ease with violence—and knew, deep in his gut, that this wasn’t a place where people were offered a cup of tea after a hard day.
And despite the fact he’d only been away four days, Dave was homesick.