Chapter Eighteen
Jay
Caleb left me down here with another pair of his men, and one of them can’t stop ogling me. It’s the same smoldering look Caleb gives me, but it doesn’t elicit the same burning feeling in my core.
I’m no stranger to someone wanting me dead. I just didn’t think I’d be back here, trapped in a cage. At least for now, this guy is on the other side of it. And as long as he remains that way, the beast inside remains at bay.
I’m slumped on the ground with one knee pointed to the ceiling and the other extended.
My elbow rests on my knee, and my eyes are trained on the men.
One thing I learned in my time fighting, no matter how much I want to, I can’t be the first to look away.
Showing any sign of submission can invite predatory behavior.
So here I am, having an unwanted stare down with the ugliest motherfuckers.
Yay me.
Moments that feel like an eternity pass like this. Finally, he looks away. Which means now I can stop looking at his stupid face.
But just when I think my nightmares are over, this tiny loss—that should be meaningless—enrages him. And that was my other concern: whether his tiny ego could handle the loss.
His hands ball into fists. “You rogues are all the same.”
Here we go. Another privileged male to tell me how I’m the same as everyone else when he’s probably never even had a real conversation with a rogue before.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Enticing him isn’t necessary because I don’t want to kick his ass in front of his friend.
Ignoring him would only rile him up. Even if his friend also shares the same smug look on his face that I’d love to punch clean off it.
I also don’t want to rile him up by ignoring him.
So instead, I try my best to disguise the disinterest in my voice as curiosity and say, “Oh yeah? How’s that? ”
“They steal and murder. Completely uncivilized. They give wolves a bad name. And they always smell bad.”
“Not me. I’ve had a bath, thank you.”
Okay, I shouldn’t have said that, even if it was a little funny. But if I don’t make a joke, I’ll get snippy. Why does everyone act like they are above judgement. They hunt, don’t they? Which means they kill. It’s so hypocritical.
“Did I say you could talk?” he bellows.
His yelling causes my wolf to rise to a stance. She’s slowly waking up.
Well, there’s no turning back now.
I pick a small pebble of concrete off the floor, rolling it in my hand before tossing it at the wall. Fuck my life.
Now seeing that de-escalation is futile, I toss aside the bigger person act. “Ooh, testy, aren’t we?”
He cranes his neck. “What’d you just say to me?” The other pushes off the wall, his post, to step closer to the cage. He’s just as quick to rage as the other.
I sigh. I’m going to have to fight them both, aren’t I?
My wolf paces, eager to play. We don’t like being caged. Add the taunting, and now you’re just asking for it.
Nonetheless, if I can avoid it, I will.
I exhale audibly and shake my head. “Nothing. I said nothing.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. I know what you did to my friend.”
I tilt my head. “Which one?”
“Barrett. The guy whose . . . penis you broke,” Thing One says.
I tap my chin. “I broke two penises. So, forgive me if I don’t recall which one.” I’m hoping this little reminder will deter them from taking things further. “But was he the one with the eye twitch . . . ?”
“Yeah, that’s him!” Thing Two says enthusiastically.
Thing One hits Thing Two’s shoulder.
“Oh. I mean . . .” His tone returns to aggression. “You know the one, bitch.”
The delivery of his comeback was so unconvincing that I cover my mouth to hide my smile threatening to turn into full-fledged laughter. “Oh. I remember now. How’s he doing?”
“He’s fine, thanks for asking,” Thing Two chimes in.
I snort. Oh, he is definitely not the brains in this operation. Now I’m really hoping I don’t have to fight them, at least not the funny one.
Immediately, Thing One backhands Thing Two’s stomach. Thing Two grunts at the impact.
I nod my head in approval. “Oh, that’s good to hear.”
“Hey! Don’t be a smartass. You rogues are all the same.” Thing One scans the entirety of my cell. “What a waste of a perfectly good cage. Too good of a punishment for someone like you.”
“For someone who is outside the cage, you sure carry a lot of complaints. I’ll gladly switch places,” I offer.
“You never contribute to society. All your kind ever do is take.”
“Pierre-Joseph Proudhon would argue that property is a stolen commodity,” I mutter under my breath.
“Huh?” they chirp.
Right. Of course philosophy is too sophisticated for dumb and dumber here. Yet somehow, I’m the uncultured swine. I switch gears and use smaller words so these men can understand.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think you have to be accepted into society first to contribute.”
“You know, you bitch a lot for someone who is lucky enough to still be breathing.”
“Lucky?” I chuckle softly. “Sure.”
“Yeah, lucky! But I can change that if you can’t appreciate it.” He stomps to the cage door and fiddles with the lock.
I stand.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I tell him.
My wolf growls, ready to hunt.
I want out. Let me out, she says, pacing the cage of my mind.
Not yet . . .
She growls at me. If she really wanted out, she’d wait for my approval. But after what she did earlier, she wants it. And I’m not ready to give it to her until I know for sure they’re not just trying to scare me.
“Yeahhhh,” Thing One cheers. “You’re scared now, aren’t you?”
“For me? No. For you? Yes. I’m telling you, you don’t want to do this,” I warn Thing One, then regard Thing Two with a nod. “Get your friend before he gets hurt.”
“It’s funny you think he’s just going to watch.” Things One and Two exchange glances, smiling at each other. Thing One turns his attention back to me.
“Oh, come on, guys. Two on one hardly seems fair . . .” I say, forcing my voice to shake slightly to feign nervousness.
Anyone with little self-esteem can’t fight.
Those who can don’t need to prove it. And they most certainly don’t go looking for a fight because you never know what someone might be capable of.
You learn to fight from pure survival instinct, not because you want to cause harm.
Their underestimation of me will be their downfall.
“Tell you what, to make it fair, we’ll take turns beating the shit out of you,” Thing Two says, cracking his knuckles.
Thing One points to me and says, “You rogues are always attacking us. This should be no problem for you, right? So fight us.”
And there it is: the challenge. They always want to challenge me.
Sigh. Can’t I just rot in peace?
I dodge his blow and pop him in the nose.
Crack.
“Last chance.” I hold out my arms. “Come on, guys. We don’t have to do this. Leave the cage, close the door and go back to your post. No one has to know I hit you. No one has to get further injured. Come on, what do you say?”
Thing One grasps his nose, while Thing Two holds his hands up.
His eyes dart nervously from Thing One and me and I can tell he’s having second thoughts.
Unfortunately for him, Thing One isn’t ready to give up.
He lunges, but he doesn’t set up any of his shots, doesn’t target anything. He keeps coming. Harder.
He assumes I won’t be ready, but I am.
With my back against the wall, fear kicks in. I see red.
My wolf growls, rising to the surface. Jay . . . she says, warning me that she’s about to take over.
I’ve got it, I assure her. But she lingers on the surface, staying close by if I need anything.
I chop his throat with a stiff hand, and he spirals into a coughing fit. With a sweep of the leg, he falls with a thump.
When the threat is gone and my back is no longer against the wall, our sense of safety returns. My vision clears. It’s like my wolf removed the covering from my eyes and decided the threat is gone.
The guards rush me again, and I try to yell and convince them that I’m not the villain, once again. But no one cares what your intention is when the impact is so great. They just see you as a monster.
“You think I like fighting? I don’t! In fact, I hate it,” I yell.
Now they aren’t even trying to get up. I bend down with my hands on my knees and softly and pleasantly ask, “How about we call this a tie?
“Fuck you, bitch!” Thing One shouts as loud as his hoarse voice will let him.
Rude.
“You’re a monster!” Thing Two cries.
“Hey!” I make a sudden movement unintentionally, causing him to flinch, and I try not to take the response personally but fail.
I’m not a monster.
“It wasn’t me who opened the cell door, was it? I warned you. But your ego was too big,” I say defensively.
A whistling diverts my attention. Caleb and the hybrid king are standing at the bottom of the steps, their eyes wide and trained on the mess I’ve made.
I’m dead.
I wasn’t breaking a sweat before, but I am now.
“Jay . . .” Caleb cautiously steps forward. “What did you do?”
Judging by their open mouths, they appear both appalled and astonished by the scene before them. Their eyes scan the injured men.
I thought when you became an adult, the fear you get as a pup when you get in trouble would go away. Yet here I am, panicking that I’m going to get blamed.
We did nothing wrong, my wolf says.
I know, I say back, but if history repeats itself, I know I’ll be blamed regardless.
“I-I told them not to come into the cage. They—They wouldn’t listen. I didn’t want to hurt them. Y-You have to believe me.”
Thing One passes out from the pain, but I’m certain I didn’t kill him . . . At least, I don’t think so.
The king squats next to the man to feel for a pulse. When he finds one, he nods approvingly. He peers up at me. “Before you strike, do you have intent on the injury you’re looking to accomplish?”
“Yes,” I answer confidently.