Page 58 of Rut Bar

“Someone’s getting fired,” Anthony says under his breath.

“No, it’s my fault,” she says. “I let myself get distracted. Fuck, why the hell did I have to wear my highest heels today?” Veronica shoves her feet into her red-bottom stilettos, then goes to her desk and pulls open a drawer. She takes out something rectangular and black and clicks a button that makes an arc of electricity flash as it crackles menacingly.

“No,” Anthony growls as he catches her by the waist and swings her around like they’re dancing. He stops her before she can stomp off toward the door. “I am not letting you go out into a room full of half-drunk, blood-lusting alphas one day away from your heat with only a stun gun for protection. Where did you even get that thing? They’re illegal for civilians.”

“This ismybar, Anthony.Mine!I won’t let them ruin it.”

When she attempts to struggle free, he lifts her off the ground and pushes her into the circle of Jamie’s arms. He lets her go, but takes her stun gun with him. “Keep her here. Donotlet her leave this room under any circumstances. I don’t care if you have to sit on her to stop her. Her feet do not touch those stairs. That is a direct fucking order.”

“Got it,” Jamie says, his arms straining to keep her trapped without hurting her. She wiggles like a fish on a hook.

“Let me handle this,” Anthony says. And then he stalks to the door to make good on that threat.

Veronica gives up after a few minutes of useless struggling, then pleading, then cursing that goes ignored. I follow as far as the top of the stairs and watch the drama unfolding from the balcony. The scene below is pure chaos.

Four male alphas cluster together in a somewhat organized pack. Two keep the enormous bouncer busy while the third hands the trainee his ass. It’s the fourth, the one from yesterday, who is causing most of the ruckus. He picks a chair up and throws it into the crowd. One of the alpha dancers catches it and keeps it from crashing into the huddled mass of screaming omegas behind her.

Whatever alphahole put a bunch of omegas in danger like this is borderline feral and needs to be locked away. Sirens ring in the distance. Thankfully it sounds like someone already called the police. The alpha dancers, some practically nude and others still in their costumes, pull omegas and betas to the sidelines while alpha patrons form a living wall between them.

Anthony cuts through the crowd with single-minded precision, dodging flailing limbs and improv weapons. He shoves a stumbling alpha who got caught in the ruckus away. Then he makes a beeline for the leader of the disgruntled alphas and darts in while the larger male turns to grab another chair.

A swift, well-placed kick to the back of a knee makes the larger male scream in agony and I flinch because I know how that feels. The alpha falters and nearly goes down, but his rage and adrenaline are too high for him to give up now.

The alpha spins and raises the chair over his head, and I hold my breath as I wait for it to come down on Anthony and take the smaller beta down. That alpha’s gonna kill him. My chest is tight. I feel impotent and useless as I stand here and watch, but I’m better use up here guarding her door. What good would I be in the thick of a fight? Outside of a few halfhearted high school brawls, I’m not someone who gets into fights.

I can throw a punch, but I’m no MMA fighter.

Apparently Anthony is.

He grabs the chair mid-swing and rotates with it, using the momentum to throw the bulkier, slower alpha off balance. When the alpha passes him, he aims a kick to the dead center of the man’s back and I wince at the kidney shot.

The alpha goes down, but tries to get up. When that fails, he flips onto his back and tries to kick at the beta. Anthony grabs him by the foot and twists the already injured knee, then slings the stun gun up in an arc from the strap dangling on his wrist. He lights it up on the alpha’s exposed ankle.

The alpha screams and goes rigid, and Anthony keeps the stun gun live and crackling for a horrifying amount of time. The alpha’s screams are filled with rage and pain, and his next kick dislodges the stun gun from its contact. It connects with Anthony’s shoulder. The blow knocks the stun gun away and pushes Anthony back.

I wince and wait for someone to intervene, to rush in and help the beta wrestle the alpha back down, but nobody does. The alpha staggers up, but Anthony rushes in and throws a punch that connects on the jaw. He doesn’t stop at one. He hits him repeatedly, one jab connecting right after the other in a brutal flurry. After a particularly hard swing, the alpha’s head snaps to the other side, and he goes completely still for a moment, and then he goes down like a dropped sack of bricks.

By now, the huge bearded bouncer has finished with his two. They’re unconscious on the floor, and he spins and looks to see where he’s needed next. The fourth alpha is on his knees with his hands in the air.

That’s what the room looks like when the police arrive. Officers in bulky black tactical gear push into the crowd and get people to make way with the crackling ends of their stun batons. Now that everything is under control, I go back into the office to give Veronica and Jamie a rundown of what’s happened.

She’s not going to like it. The bar is trashed. But everyone is okay and the alphas who did this won’t get away with it. It’ll all be okay.

* * *

Veronica

My beautiful bar is a disaster.

I run my fingers through my hair and scrape it away from my face as I watch the police cars peel away and leave us alone. Now that it’s completely empty—the alphas who ran amok taken away into custody—I can survey the full extent of the damage.

There’s glass everywhere and a few of the chairs and bar stools are little more than firewood. It looks like one of the alphas threw a chair right out of Rut’s main window. A third of the alcohol behind the bar is broken and spilled all over the floor.

None of the customers or dancers were seriously hurt, so I take my losses with grace. It’s stuff. Stuff can be replaced. I remind myself that’s what insurance is for.

I walk outside and let the muggy evening air clear my sinuses as I go find Anthony. He’s sitting in the back of an ambulance while a cute beta EMT tries to talk him into going to the hospital to get an x-ray of his shoulder and hand.

“You should go,” I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest.

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