Page 18 of Alpha Chained
Before I can ask another question, the thumping of approaching footsteps has me scrambling back to my bunk, instinctively shrinking against the wall. My heart is in my throat at the thought of being dragged out again. I curse my panicked reaction, hating how easily I’ve been cowed. But the fear of being hauled off to another round of Parker’s “questioning” is never far from the surface.
It’s just the guards coming for the trays, and I breathe a small sigh of relief.
Get a grip, Raura.
I can’t let myself lose my nerve; I have to stay strong, or they’ll break me. At least having food in my belly will make it easier now. I sneak a glance at Riot, but his focus has returned inward once more. For a moment there, though, I thought I glimpsed something…a flicker of understanding, maybe even kinship. Or perhaps I’m just projecting, grasping at any shred of hope to keep my spirits from crumbling completely.
Either way, now I know his name. And I’m sure of one thing – there’s a heart beating under that brutal exterior – even if it’s buried under layers of scars and hatred. I have to believe that counts for something in this waking nightmare.
Maybe I’m not entirely alone here.
Chapter 8
Riot
A week later
I circle the Octagon, my blood pumping and muscles coiled tight. The scent of sweat and adrenaline hangs heavy in the air. Two opponents face me, cruel grins twisting their features as they brandish wicked blades. The steel glints menacingly in the harsh lights.
We’ve been in here for over twenty minutes – long enough for Parker and his blood buddies to have slated their thirst for violence. I’ve taken more than my share of hits to keep things entertaining. And to lull the fighters into a false sense of security.
I turn to where they’re standing side by side. The Orlov Twins, they call themselves. Although they’re nothing alike. One is a giant of a man, flanked by a smaller one. Wiry, but he’s the meaner of the two. He’s spent most of this fight directing the bigger one, standing on the sidelines and egging him on. Pain excites him. His blood is rushing with it now; I can hear it, smell it on him. He thinks this is his moment.
He’s wrong.
The big one lunges, his knife a blur. I sidestep, grabbing his wrist and using his own momentum to slam him to the mat. Bones crunch beneath my fist as I land a brutal punch at his throat. His eyes fly wide as he clutches at his neck, gasping for breath. I use the moment to clamp a forearm around his neck, wrenching his head up and twisting in a vicious motion that snaps the vertebra at the top of his spinal column. It’s a move that’s harder than it looks, but with my wolf lurking close now, my strength surges.
As he drops limply to the mat, the small one charges with a guttural roar. I spin, catching his knife hand and wrenching his arm. He screams, the blade clattering to the floor. My elbow cracks across his face, shattering his nose in a spray of crimson.
He staggers back, dazed, shaking his head. Pure hatred flickers across his face. Unexpectedly, he reaches behind his back and draws out a weapon. It occurs to me that it’s the reason he’s keeping out of the groundwork. He didn’t want me to know he had it.
“Gun!” someone from the crowd shouts. “That can’t be legal?”
“No rules.” There’s laughter from someone else. The sound mingles with a resounding crack as the pistol fires off a round that hits me in the shoulder and tears through the other side. Pain blossoms white-hot for a second before I fight down my body’s instinctive reaction. It’s only lead.
Gritting my teeth, I narrow my eyes on the man holding the handgun. Something flickers in his eyes…fear… It grows as I stalk toward him, hands flexing.
“Uh-oh! Now you’ve made him mad!” It’s Parker. He’s laughing. The remaining Orlov twin’s expression morphs from fear to outright terror. I know it’s because he’s caught a glimpse of the wolf in my eyes. He fires off another round; this one wings me, singeing past my bicep. His hands are shaking as he backs away, firing once more. It goes wide. He doesn’t get a chance to pull the trigger again before I reach him.
My claws rake his chest, flaying flesh to the bone. He screams, scrabbling at me. “Get off! Get him off!”
It’s too late. And he’s in the wrong place for mercy. They all know that coming into this cage. And yet they all believe they’ll walk out of it.
They never do.
“End him!” screams Parker. I catch a glimpse of his wild eyes and flushed cheeks when I glance up to where he’s seated. “Do it!” When I hesitate, he rises to his feet. “I said do it!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, even though I know the man in front of me wouldn’t have thought twice about killing me. The next swipe of my claws opens his throat, and he goes down clutching it, his breath bubbling through the gaping wound. It won’t take long. If I’ve learned anything, it’s to end life quickly. Just because they make me kill doesn’t mean I’ll take any joy in it.
Chest heaving, I run an eye over the bloodied forms on the octagon floor. The roar of the crowd washes over me, Parker’s smug voice cutting through the din.
“Bravo, Beast! A truly savage display.” He claps enthusiastically, an arrogant smirk curling his lips as he gestures to the box seats. “Did you see the way he dismantled them?” he calls to the audience there. “Like a force of nature. Undefeated, gentlemen. Unde-fucking-feated!”
The assembled elite respond appreciatively, sipping expensive whiskey from crystal tumblers. Parker must be particularly pleased tonight because he moves from his seat and struts down the stairs to the entrance of the cage. The referee unlatches the door, and he swaggers in, reeking of arrogance and overpriced cologne.
“Another masterful performance. You are a credit to the Consortium’s stable.” He clasps my shoulder with a meaty paw, eyes glittering with sick excitement. “Perhaps a little prize is in order, hmm?”
I shrug off his condescending touch, fighting the urge to wipe that smug grin from his face. My knuckles ache to feel his cartilage crunch and bone give way.