Chapter 8

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.

“I don’t need anything from you,” I growl, stalking away. Parker’s mocking laughter rings in my ears as I walk out of the cage, a pair of guards falling in step behind me. The small corridor that leads from the fight zone is flanked by plush seating occupied by more of Parker’s cronies. I roll my shoulders when I feel their eyes on my back as I prowl between them. I know there’s fear in them…but it’s the kind of fear you feel when you’re in the presence of something immensely dangerous that you’re certain is under control.

Maybe I am.

For now.

Footsteps ring behind me as I leave the small enclosure, taking the familiar route through the facility to the cell block that is my home.

“I’m serious, boy.” Parker is right behind me. He doesn’t normally leave the group after fights, preferring to stay and rub elbows with the rest of them. I have no idea what happens at those gatherings, but I’m certain it involves obscene amounts of money.

The footsteps speed up, and now he’s walking beside me. I slant a glance at him, not slowing my pace. He has to skip a little to keep up, which pleases me more than I’d like to admit. Although, I’m not so pleased when he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a cigar, snipping off the end and lighting it. A puff of smoke hits me, and my nostrils flare in distaste.

The door to the cell block is unlocked, and we walk through. “That fight was a big deal,” he goes on. “Very important. I impressed the right people… You impressed the right people.”

I keep walking, not responding as he keeps talking. “We’re talking high-level negotiations here, boy.”

Fuck, I hate it when he calls me that.

“The kind of power that makes a difference in the world. The kind of power could topple countries.” He’s clearly drunk. I seldom hear this much excitement from him.

We stop in front of the door to my cell. I wait with my arms folded over my chest as the guard fumbles with the lock. I stare straight ahead, taking stock of my injuries. The bruises and grazes have already healed, but the bullet wound will take a little longer. The edges are already pulling together, though – it’s always faster when my wolf is near when I take a hit.

The woman called Raura is back in her cell now. They’d taken her again this morning, and I didn’t see her before I left to prepare for the fight. She’s huddled on her bunk. I see her cringe at the sound of Parker’s voice, and it angers me more than it should.

I turn my gaze back to Parker, forcing myself to focus on his words despite the rage simmering beneath my skin at the sight of Raura’s cringing form.

“You’ve been with us a long time, boy,” Parker says, taking a long drag on his cigar. The ember glows brighter as he inhales deeply. “Years of loyal service deserve to be rewarded, don’t you think?”

I remain impassive, not rising to the bait of his condescending words or the way he calls me “boy” like I’m some kind of pet. Inside, my wolf snarls at the disrespect, but I’ve learned to keep him leashed tightly.

Parker gestures vaguely with the cigar. “After a performance like tonight, I’d say you’ve more than earned something special.” His eyes glitter with a greed I’ve seen so many times before. “Perhaps a taste of the finer things? A reward befitting a beast of your…talents.”

The way he says the word “talents” makes my lip curl in disgust. We both know he’s referring to my ability to kill without remorse. At least, that’s what he thinks – the cold-blooded savagery I’m forced to display in that cage.

If only he knew how much it guts me every time.

My gaze drifts back to Raura despite my efforts. She’s cradling her arm against her body, and even from here, I can see the grotesque angle it’s bent at.

Broken. Goddammit! They broke her fucking arm!

Fury surges through me, scalding and caustic. I want to tear the guards apart, to rip Parker’s throat out with my teeth for what they’ve done to her. And for what they’ll continue to do. I have no doubt that if they don’t torture her to death here, they’re going to sell her. And then, who knows what horrors might lurk in her future? Creatures like us don’t fare well in captivity; I know I don’t. And I’m pretty sure that whatever she’ll have to do will be far worse than simply having to fight.

God, I want to hurt him so badly.

But I can’t. My own life isn’t the only one at stake if I give in to the violent urges straining against my control. So I force myself to look away from her beaten form, to keep my expression neutral as Parker watches me with those calculating eyes.

“Well? Don’t you have anything to say?” He takes another puff on the cigar, the tip flaring bright. “You’ve earned this, Riot. A reward for being such an…obedient beast.”

The cell door clangs open behind me, but I don’t turn toward it. I’m afraid if I look away from Parker now, I’ll lose what little grip I have on my temper. I can’t let him see that crack in my armor, can’t give him that glimpse of weakness to exploit.

So I swallow down the growl building in my chest and say nothing. Better to seem the obedient beast he wants, at least for now.

Until I can find a way to make him pay for what he’s done.

“Tell me what you want, kid. Anything you like. Name it, and it’s yours.” Parker puffs out a mouthful of cigar smoke, grinning broadly. I look at him for a long moment, an idea forming. A crazy fucking idea.

Don’t do this, Riot.

But it’s too late. My mind’s made up.

“Her,” I say, jerking my head back to where Raura is cowering against the wall.

“What?” Parker frowns. There’s no way he could have expected this.

“The woman. I want her,” I repeat.