Chapter 5

Sophia Hope

Rita's words eat at me for the next couple of days.

It's not that I believe Alex is my fated mate. But does Rita think me, of all people, possibly finding my fated mate will not be accepted by the shifters in this town? That idea makes me feel lonely inside. I've never dreamed of finding anyone to love me, much less my fated mate, but the thought that this town doesn't consider me worthy of love because I don't have a wolf is heartbreaking. And the fact is, Rita might be right. She didn't say any of this to me outright, but it's what I assume she meant, and it has been weighing on me.

Fortunately, Mathew scheduled a cage fight for me tonight, so I'm completely focused on that. It's a nice distraction, but it brings its own slew of problems. I haven't told Mathew yet about Alex and his group. The only reason I haven't is because he might decide to kick me out and back out of our deal in order to keep his cage fighting ring from being shut down. The pack security team does not get involved with human affairs; however, if word gets out about a shifter taking part in cage fights, they're going to investigate. And I don't think Mathew wants that to happen.

I considered not showing up for the fight, but I need the money. When Mathew comes into my dressing room, I keep my mouth shut.

"You'll be facing off against one opponent today," he tells me, closing the door behind him. "The Beaver."

I blink. "The what?"

"It's a woman." He stuffs his hands in his pockets, not looking too pleased. "You know my feelings about female cage fighters."

While I'm tempted to remind him that I'm also a woman, I understand where his apprehension stems from. Out of the six female fighters I've faced so far, four of them were intent on making the entire event some sort of sensual show. The other two were serious fighters, more focused on winning the match than putting on an act.

"She came by to train in the gym," Mathew is saying. "Quick on her feet, hits hard and fast. Don't underestimate her. I just hope she sticks to the same energy when she's in the ring."

"It'll be fine," I reassure him.

He doesn't seem convinced. With an irate look in his eyes, he says, "If you think at any point that she is dragging things out, just put an end to the fight."

"Sure," I shrug. "But you do know that every time you get a female fighter in the ring against me, you make a lot of money."

Mathew grumbles under his breath, and I hide my smirk.

"Fine," he growls. "But this is a fight, not a porn show. Just remember that."

I roll my eyes at him in the mirror as he leaves. When the door closes behind him, I glance at the wall clock. I've got ten minutes.

After making sure all of my hair is braided up properly, I put on my mask and adjust the new straps I have added. These were a last-minute idea, just in case somebody tries to unmask me.

Exiting my dressing room, I lock the door and put the key in the small, inconspicuous letter box around the corner of the hallway.

I walk into the arena, where one fight is already going on. The sounds of shouting and hollering are deafening. I can hear a lot more than that: the sound of flesh slapping flesh, the grunts and groans, all of it. I can smell the sweat of the spectators and the blood in the air. I wouldn't say I'm immune to the scents and sounds, but I've gotten used to them.

I wait in the darkness, leaning against the wall, my arms folded across my chest. I can see the ring from where I'm standing. The fighters seem to be equally matched, countering blow for blow. My brow crinkles. Until one of them plays their ace card, this match is going to go on forever. A minute later, the smaller man punches the bigger one under his jaw, making him fall backward. The aggressor doesn't seem to be done. Uncaring that his opponent is down for the count, he grabs his head and slams his fist against his temple over and over again as the crowd cheers at the violence. My body clenches, but before I can so much as move, Mathew is rushing inside the ring and pushing the smaller man off the larger, unconscious one.

Sounds of boos erupt from the audience, but Mathew ignores them. His voice booms, "The winner for this round is the Storm!"

I watch as the knocked-out man is dragged away and the victor heads for the exit door next to me. He still seems to be revved up because he glances at me and jerks forward, attempting to intimidate me. I just stare at him, not very impressed. In response, he spits at my feet and walks off.

Real classy , I think to myself.

"Next up, we have the Wily Vixen facing off against the Beaver!"

I let out a long breath before I walk into the ring.

The Beaver is a slender woman, and she's wearing a tank top and a pair of shorts. I always choose to wear a full bodysuit during fights, but I can understand why she would go for those clothes. It's easier to move in them.

Some of the men in the crowd hoot and whistle, but I tune them out. The woman before me is the picture of professionalism. She doesn't look the slightest bit fazed at the crowd's reaction. She seems to be more interested in sizing me up.

We circle each other, with Mathew standing between us, and he says, "I hope you've all placed your bets because the fight begins now! The Wily Vixen is a house favorite, and the Beaver seems to want her crown. Ladies, begin!"

I focus on my opponent. True to her name, she's wearing a beaver mask. My mask is still the cheap one I got from the costume shop years ago. Hers looks expensive. It's embedded with jewels that look pretty real to me from where I'm standing. This leads me to believe she's being sponsored by somebody.

The Beaver throws the first punch. I dodge it and, grabbing her fist before she can throw another one, I push her back. With that, the battle begins.

I'm glad Mathew warned me. This woman is a powerhouse. Unlike other fighters I have faced, she does not attack at random. She is targeting my vital organs, her goal clearly to incapacitate me as fast as possible.

I find myself slightly impressed. But I've been in the game a long time, too. I deftly avoid her strikes and land two of my own, one against the side of her neck—stunning her momentarily—and the other against her hip, which seems to be a weak point for her.

She doesn't go down that easily, though, and I prepare myself for a long, drawn-out fight.

I can hear the crowd in the background, but I pay them no mind. If I wanted to, theoretically, I could knock out the Beaver with one blow. But that is not something I'm allowed to do. My wolf feels excited at facing such a worthy opponent. However, I can also sense its distraction. It seems to be searching for something in the audience, its attention constantly moving away from our opponent.

My wolf and I are always in sync during a fight. This is the first time I have felt it so distracted. I glance at the timer as I kick the woman in the stomach and make her stumble backward.

I still have a minute left.

Deciding to go on the offensive, I deliver nonstop strikes, moving faster than normal, and she goes down.

The bell sounds, and Mathew enters the ring. He holds up my hand. "Round one goes to the Wily Vixen!"

I take a deep breath. Two more rounds to go.

By the time the fight ends, my arms are aching. I had to let the Beaver win the second round before I crushed her in the third, securing my victory.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it seems the Wily Vixen has managed to, yet again, hold on to her crown!"

I let Mathew ramble on, hyping me up to the crowd. As he holds my hand in the air, my gaze flies over the faces watching me.

My wolf is still searching for something. And the minute my eyes land on the man who is standing at the very far end of the room, his hands in his pockets, his eyes pinned on me, I feel my wolf relax.

It was searching for Alex.

The next fight is about to begin, so I start to head back to my dressing room. As I walk away, I can feel Alex's gaze on me. Does he know who is under this mask?

I'm not taking any chances. As soon as I enter my dressing room, I take off my mask, but I don't bother unbraiding my hair. I change into a clean set of clothes, including a hoodie, and wait for Mathew to drop off my payment.

When he knocks, I can smell him from the other side of the door, and I turn the knob to let him in.

"Good job—" He begins, only to cut himself short. He arches one surprised brow. "Are you in a hurry?"

"I have a shift at the bar," I lie easily.

I have a feeling Alex may be waiting for me outside the back door that I always use, so I ask Mathew, "Do you think I could go out the main entrance this time?"

He gives me a strange look. "You use the rear exit for a reason, Sophia. A lot of people will be out front. If somebody recognizes you…" He trails off, but I know he's right. I can't take that risk. "Use the back door," Mathew advises. "And I left some beef sandwiches for you on the kitchen table."

For a moment, I consider telling him about the possibility of Alex being out there. But I hold my tongue, knowing the potential consequences that might arise. Mathew hands me a fat envelope and leaves as I stuff it in my bag. I'm about to head out myself when I pause. Better to be safe than sorry. Taking out my mask, I secure it on my face and pull up my hoodie.

I don't want to waste any more time. I grab the sandwiches on my way through the kitchen and put them in my bag, as well. Finally, I walk out the back door, and as expected, Alex is standing there. He's alone this time, his friends nowhere in sight.

"We meet again," he says softly.

I stare at him, my blood humming. Has he recognized me? I keep waiting for him to call me by my name.

"What's your name?"

I nearly collapse out of relief. But all I do is shake my head.

"I know you're a shifter."

He takes a step toward me, and I instantly hold up a hand. My voice is muffled from the mask, and I desperately pray he doesn't recognize it. "That's far enough. What do you want with me?"

"I just want to have a conversation."

"Is that code for kidnapping?" I demand.

He blinks, and for a moment, I think I see his lips twitch, but his expression is back to that cautious one.

"No. Just talking."

"And what if I don't want to have a conversation with you?" I ask coolly.

"You want to hear me out," he stresses. "What I have to say will benefit both of us."

I strongly doubt it, but curiosity still rears its head. However, I've survived on my own for too long for trusting to be an easy component of my personality.

"I'm sure you think so," I counter. "But I disagree. Leave me alone. I have nothing to say to you."

Alex studies me. "What is a shifter doing taking part in cage fights? You know it's illegal."

"And?" I stare at him. "What does that have to do with you?"

"I'm just curious about your motivation."

"I would tell you, but I hardly think it's any of your business." I can't figure out what he's after, and I sure as hell am not about to go off somewhere to have a conversation with him, somewhere he can have his friends jump me.

Yet, I can't control the way my insides melt at the sound of his voice. My wolf's behavior is also unsettling; it is preening under Alex's attention.

Rita's words come back to mind, but I don't want to believe them. There is no way that Alex can be my fated mate. I would know, wouldn't I? There has to be some surefire way of finding out. Besides, how can he be my fated mate and not know who I am? I conveniently choose to ignore the fact that I'm not sure, either.

My head is a tangled mess of confusion, and the last thing I want to do is stand here and talk to him.

"Are you going to out me?" I ask him pointedly.

"No, but—"

"Then get out of my way."

I try to walk past him. When he grabs my hand, I immediately stab my other hand toward his neck. He stops the attack with his left hand. With both of my wrists in his grasp, my heart thunders.

We are standing so close to each other that I can feel his breath hitting my mask.

Anxiety fills me. And that's not the only emotion piercing me at this moment. I can't focus on anything other than Alex's lips. I've never had a desire to kiss or be kissed by anybody. But with him, I want to see what it's like. Even though I'm wearing a mask.

Will my heart beat just as fast if he kisses me?

His hands on my wrists are strong, and his touch makes me feel weak in the knees.

Suddenly, I see Alex's eyes widen, and his nose twitches as if he's scenting something.

For a moment I don't understand, and then I catch the musky aroma in the air. In an instant, I know what it is and where it's coming from. Mortified, I take advantage of Alex's shock and break free of his hold. He opens his mouth to say something but I don't wait around to hear it.

I run.

I don't even bother looking over my shoulder to see if he's giving chase. My feet pound the forest floor, my body moving of its own accord. I don't stop running, feeling embarrassed the whole time.

What the hell was that? Why was I aroused by him? He could smell my arousal! He wasn't expecting that any more than I was! Oh Goddess, what have I done?!

I have to do something about this man. At one point as I run toward town, I check behind me, but nobody's coming after me. Finally, as I reach the edge of the forest, I come to a halting stop, panting. Putting one hand against a tree, I catch my breath, trying to regain some semblance of control over my emotions. I feel humiliated even though I know I shouldn't since I can't control my body's reaction. But I can't help how I feel.

Biting my lower lip, I take off the mask and put it in my pocket before I make the rest of the journey home. I've already adjusted the insoles in my shoes. I'm just walking up the steps to my apartment when I see Drew coming downstairs with a bottle of wine in his hand.

I haven't seen Drew since that night at the bar. He gives me an awkward smile. "Hey."

Perhaps it's because I'm upset, but I sound low even to my own ears. "Hi."

I'm sure he's not in the mood to talk to me, so I take out my keys, only for him to stop me. "Are you okay, Sophia?"

Why does everybody keep asking me that? I wonder dimly.

I jerk my head in a nod, not trusting myself to speak right now. The key goes into the lock as he says, "Want a drink? It's not good quality, but it doesn't taste like piss, either."

I'm about to decline when it hits me that there's nobody inside for me to talk to. The fact that I'm going home to an empty, lonely apartment hits heavy today for some reason. I hesitate, looking down at my key. I retract it and put it back in my pocket before turning to look at Drew. "Sure. I think I need a drink."

He smiles at me.

*** **

While I do babysit Tim at least once a week, it's always at my place. I've never actually been inside Drew's apartment. It's a clean and tidy space with Tim's drawings and participation certificates from his school littering most of the walls. The furniture is sparse, the entire place emitting a dull feel to it. It's almost as if Drew never even tried to make this apartment a home. It's almost as if Drew is simply living for his son. I already knew that, but I was beginning to hope that perhaps he had started living for himself. I guess I was wrong.

"I'll get us some glasses," he says.

I sit down in one of the arm chairs and look around. "So, what happened with that date?"

I hear some dishes clattering, and then Drew walks out with two wine glasses, shrugging. "It's not like I wanted to go on a date to begin with. After Katie, I'm not really interested in being with anybody else."

"So, you stood her up?" I ask, watching him pour the wine.

"I did leave her a message apologizing, but she never got back to me."

He hands me my glass before sinking onto the three-seater couch and staring at the television in front of him. "It's for the best."

I look down at my drink and take a sip. It really is awful, but wine is wine, and I don't care. I just wanted some company.

"I'm not in your shoes, Drew, and it's not my place to say, but perhaps having a woman in Tim's life might be good for him."

I glance at him, and he gives me a half-smile, lifting his glass in my direction. "That's why I agreed to the date. But at the end of the day, is it really fair to a woman for me to build up her expectations just so I can have a mother figure for my son? I know I will never look at anyone else romantically again. And I don't think it's right to destroy another person's life for selfish reasons."

He has a point. I don't really know what to say.

Drew takes another sip of his wine. "Besides, Tim has you. You're good enough to be a female influence on him."

I stare at him. "Somehow that seems like a backhanded compliment."

He chuckles. "You're a good person, Sophia. He likes spending time with you. I can't fill Katie's shoes, but I'm going to try to do right by our son to the best of my abilities."

"I think you're doing a good job already." I lift my glass to toast him.

"Cheers." Drew gives me that half-smile again.

We spend the next minute in silence, each wrapped up in our own thoughts.

"So," he says, leaning back on the couch and looking at me, "What's got you down in the dumps?"

I don't even know where to begin. I remember Rita's warning, but this is Drew, and maybe I need a man's perspective.

"There's this guy…"

Drew chuckles. "I knew it."

"It's not like that!" I flush. "I don't like him."

"Then what's the problem?" he asks, raising a brow.

If Rita hadn't said anything, I don't think any of this would have been an issue. But ever since our conversation, Alex is constantly on my mind.

"How do you know if you meet your fated mate?"

My question has Drew choking on his wine. He hits his chest, coughing violently before gasping, "What?"

"Are you alright?" I demand, instantly on my feet.

He waves me off. "I'm fine. What did you say?"

"I was just curiou—"

"You think this guy is your fated mate?" Drew's voice is serious.

"I don't know." I move my shoulders in a helpless shrug. "Rita thinks he is—or that he could be. I'm not exactly in a position to date or anything. I don't know the first thing about any of this. When I was sent here, I was not allowed to complete my pack education. So, I don't know what to do about any of this or whether he is—"

"What do you mean you weren't allowed to finish your pack education? Every adult…" Drew hesitates, frowning.

I give him a steady look. "You were part of the pack security team, Drew. I know you are aware of the circumstances surrounding why I was sent to Oakrest."

Drew presses his lips together and looks down at the floor. "Of course. Yes, I was told."

"I was sixteen." As I look at him, I find myself remembering that night once again, the night I have never discussed with anyone before. "I never liked those boys, but I didn't want to hurt them. They always bullied me because I didn't have a wolf. For some reason, even though they were orphans just like me, the fact that they had their wolves and I didn't made them think I was lesser than them. The Director never stopped them. I complained so many times, but nobody intervened. And then, that night in the common room…"

I hadn't taken my scent blockers for two days, through no fault of my own. The Director had been away from the orphanage; she was the one who would call me into the office and give me the medicine. She would watch me to make sure I took it.

"They attacked me, all of them at once," I tell Drew. "Even at the orphanage, the education I received was separate. Every other shifter was taught about their bodies, but I wasn't. I didn't know anything about mating or sex or any of those things till I came here. I didn't realize what those boys were trying to do to me. I didn't understand. All I knew was that I had to stop them. And that's what I did."

"Only one boy survived," Drew says quietly. "I'm sorry, Sophia. I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

I shrug. "This is the first time I've ever talked about it. Never saw the point."

Drew's silence is heavy, and then he reveals, "What you just told me is not the story Alpha Black gave us. We were informed that you had suddenly become violent and gone on a killing spree. And the reason you were sent to Oakrest was to isolate you from others to prevent you from doing something like that again."

I absorb his words, looking down at my wine glass.

At this point, it doesn't surprise me. The pack has never accepted me as one of their own, not since I was born. I was never given the same privileges as others. And when I was sent here, I was only permitted to go to the local high school and receive the education I was legally required to have. I was not allowed to take part in the pack education that all wolf shifters are privy to.

I'm pretty sure Alpha Black detests me. During his brief visits when I first came to Oakrest, he would interrogate me about who I was friends with or if anybody had approached me. The couple of younger children who used to seek me out would always stop after those visits, and I just know it was the Alpha's doing. I can't imagine hating a child so much that you would deliberately isolate them. Maybe his hatred for me stemmed from the fact that I was the only pack member without a wolf. It's rare, but it does happen.

When I came to this place, I still could not even feel my wolf. It was only when I started taking part in the cage fights that things changed. Perhaps the violence woke up the beast inside. But I never told anybody about it.

I've never attempted to shift, either. I don't even know how.

Even though I'm part of a pack, I feel alone, as if I don't belong anywhere. The feeling of being unwanted and undesired has been ingrained in me at this point, and to some extent, I've made my peace with it.

So, when Rita suggested that Alex might be my fated mate, I found the idea horrific. The thought of being tied down to someone who could then torment me shook me to the core. A fated mate is supposed to be your life partner who cares for you, but I don't buy it. My Alpha was supposed to protect me, too, and he didn't. My pack was supposed to love and shield me as a child, and they didn't. Why should I expect my fated mate to be any different?

Drew is quiet for a few minutes, and then he gets to his feet. "Wait here."

I throw back my wine and pour myself another drink, wanting to get really drunk now. I'm halfway through the second glass when he returns.

He sets down a couple of books before me, and I look up at him. "What's this?"

Drew stuffs his hands in his pockets. "Katie loved romance books. Couldn't get enough of them."

When I just stare at him, he sighs.

"Katie was not my fated mate, Sophia, so I don't really know what that particular bond is like. What I do know, from the education you should have received, is that the bond between a fated couple is not explosive. Two people who are designed for each other are drawn to each other. Even if you don't like him right now, since you two have crossed paths, and if he really is your fated mate, the two of you will be drawn to each other constantly. Having a fated mate is a blessing, Sophia. Your other half will understand you in a way nobody else can."

What he's saying sounds idealistic, and I just look away. He sees the good side of it all, but I see a kind of imprisonment I will never be able to escape.

"The kind of love you receive from a fated mate is beautiful." Drew sits down, his eyes on me. "It's supposed to be different than with other mated couples. There is a deeper link between fated mates."

"So, it's all unicorns and rainbows." I shrug. "But how do I even know that someone is my fated mate?"

"Constant awareness." Drew has an exasperated look on his face. "Sophia, finding your fated mate is a good thing. But if you want to know how you can be sure, I only know of one small clue. As encounters increase, the spot where shifters receive the mating mark starts to feel uncomfortable."

He pushes the books toward me. "Take these. They might help. You keep telling me to put myself out there when you're the one who should be dating. You're twenty-five, Sophia. You should be out breaking some hearts."

My lips curve into a smile at his words. Imagining myself breaking somebody's heart is the most ludicrous idea ever.

I pick up one of the books and look at the back cover. "You think romance books will help me."

"I think," Drew says quietly, "that you need to stop fighting your instincts. Just because everyone has failed you so far doesn't mean that the people who come into your life now will do the same."

I look up, ready to say something, but from the look in his eyes, I can see that he's not only talking about me anymore.

Drew has his own demons to battle, just like I have mine.

I give him a small smile and raise my wine glass. "Let's toast. To good friends."

He lifts his glass, and as we clink them, I think of the mask in my hoodie pocket.

My situation is way more complicated than Drew could ever understand.