Page 142 of Fight

“Damn, it’s been a while since you’ve been back here,” Lana says with a smirk as she reaches around me. “It’s always fun to watch you sling drinks like you were born for it.”

It’s true, I never worked behind a bar until I opened one. I was too young to bartend, I was told whenever I looked for a job. Look at me now.

Glancing behind me, I sigh as I see our two trash cans are dangerously close to overflowing.

“I’ll take out the trash and be quick,” I tell her. “It’s going to overflow if it’s not taken care of soon.”

Augustine is talking to someone on the other side of the club who he hasn’t seen in a while, and Tommy is chatting with someone from Corbin’s organization. I love being considered neutral ground.

Just one big happy family. Well, if not that, at least it’s drama free.

Checking on Gabriel talking with Jasper at the bar, I close up the trash bags and pull them out. My bartenders close the gap I left smoothly, but they won’t be able to keep up with the pace for long.

Fuck, we are really busy tonight.

Quickly, I walk through the hallway to the left of the bar and down to the back door. It’s cooler back here, allowing me to take a deep breath of relief. My blood is pacing from being on the go all night, but I’m having a fucking blast.

Pushing open the back door with my hip, I pull down the door stopper to keep it open. The last thing I need is to get stuck in this damn alley alone. Looking around quickly, I walk to the dumpster that’s thankfully open and toss the bags up and over into it.

The sound of a door slamming shut makes me jump, glancing toward it. A thick arm bands around my throat, choking me while his other hand yanks on my braids, and I kick back repeatedly. I am absolutely not doing this shit again.

“Fuck, you’re feistier than your mom,” a man curses as I kick again and push away from him.

Breathing hard, I whirl around to see a man in a tailored shirt and nice black pants glaring at me. To my left is another man who’s sneering at me as well.

“What about my mother?” I ask, feeling my skin crawl. Fuck, if this is who I think they are, where’s the last one?

“She was the perfect omega,” whispers a voice from right behind me. Goddamn it, how did he get behind me?

Turning and punching him in the face, I duck and move around him as he yells. Facing my fathers, I shake my head.

“You’re hurting her,” I tell them. “We both thought she was crazy, but she’s not, is she?”

“The bond is the strongest I’ve ever heard of,” one of my fathers sneers. “She always knew when we were close. It shows she’s meant for us, despite biology. Alphas who are prey to their instincts are weak, which is something we aren’t. It’s not nice to keep her from us.”

The three of them have perfect hair, straight noses, and look like alphas you would want to pack up with. Their eyes are dead, soulless, and malicious, though.

“You’re worth nothing to us other than a way to draw her out,” the man I know is Mallan Cockburn says. My mother spoke about him the most under her breath when we were traveling. I have a feeling he left an impression on her that was less than positive.

“Xavier was supposed to watch you, tell us when you’d be alone, and then we were going to kidnap you.”

“Virgins seem to sell really well in the omega auctions.” The man with the perfect blond hair and no stubble is Bryce Cockburn. They took Mallan’s name when they became a pack.

“I’m not a virgin,” I retort. “I have a pack, mate marks, and I’m not going anywhere with you.”

“We’ll kill your alphas,” Mallan says with a shrug, pulling out a gun.

I don’t know what it says about me, but I start to laugh. I can’t help it. It’s hard to imagine these are the people who killed Xavier. They’ve been my boogeyman my entire life.

“I’d love to see you fucking try,” I snarl. “You clearly have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“God, this is why I always said I would smother you if you were a girl. They’re so damn dramatic,” Neiman grunts. Yep, my three sperm donors all have douchebag names.

Grabbing me by the arm, he pulls me forward roughly. Even though the dumpster is near me, I can still smell the combined scents of sewers on a hot day, baby poop, and strong aftershave.

Wrinkling my nose, I jerk away.

“Do as you're told,” Mallan alpha barks, which slows my movements for a moment until I force myself to break it. Mental exercises are something I’ve trained myself to do over and over. It gives me something else to focus on other than the command so I can break free of it.

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