Page 4 of Promise & Artem

Sure thing. What time?

Seven. I told Ally I’d help her clean up after breakfast and make a batch of blueberry cream cheese muffins for lunch.

Ok. See you at seven.

He turned off his phone and put it in the locker.

“Who’re you up against in the next round?” Bailey, a wolf shifter who’d been part of Nero’s pack, asked with a southern drawl.

“The new guy, Varro.” The male was from North Carolina and had been in a handful of fights since he joined. Artem wasn’t sure why Nero wanted Artem to fight him, since the male hadn’t really proved himself yet with the lesser fighters, but he was looking forward to the big payout to win the prize fight for the night.

“Well, he’s not bigger or better than you, but he is determined, so watch your back.”

“Thanks, man.”

Finishing up his tape, Artem tossed the roll in the locker and slammed the door. Time to beat the new guy, collect his winnings, and get home before anyone realized he was gone.

He didn’t want to have to explain to his dad why he’d purposely joined up with a fighting group when his father told him it was a bad idea. His parents were already worried about him. He didn’t want to add to it.

He made his way out for the last fight of the night.

“I thought you were The Bull!” Varro taunted as he hopped away from Artem’s fist again.

The male was proving to be harder to put down than he’d thought. He was wiry and quick, and had a mouth that never seemed to stop squawking.

Letting out a growl, Artem faked to the right and spun around, sweeping Varro’s legs out from under him. As the malehit the floor with anoof, Artem leaped, fists high, ready to smash him deeper into the concrete.

Varro rolled out of the way at the last second and Artem landed on his upper arms, his weight making his wrists buckle and his joints crack.

“Fuck!”

Varro rose to his feet and Artem almost caught a foot to the face.

His vision blurred as his minotaur roared, angry that the male was harder to defeat than anticipated.

Overhead, Nero watched from a balcony, smoking a cigar, the smoke billowing around his face. Next to him stood his second-in-command, a dangerous wolf named Adir. The word among the fighters was that Adir lost his family years ago during a territorial dispute with another pack. Nero had taken him in and gave him a sense of purpose and belonging which he dogmatically clung to. The trauma of losing his family had left him with a hatred to those who threatened his new “family” in Nero’s fighters, and he was exceptionally vicious toward outsiders.

Artem had once witnessed Adir’s unhinged loyalty to Nero, when a group of shifters attempted to disrupt one of the fighting ring’s events. He orchestrated an ambush and led the group into a trap, where he captured and killed the leader as a warning to the group to stay far away from Nero and his business.

Artem got distracted for a moment staring at the two wolves. Then pain exploded in his temple as Varro’s fist connected with his face.

Dropping to a knee, Artem blinked through the pain.

Varro crowed with glee.

The crowd cheered, the tide of appreciation turning against him.

He felt the hold on his beast start to slip as a bellow wove its way up from his chest and out his mouth. His eyes burned as his irises changed color from natural brown to bright red.

He ground his teeth together to stem the tide of his shift, but he could feel that he was losing hold.

Varro’s laugh was cut off as he realized that Artem was starting to shift.

Everyone knew that once Artem shifted, all hell would break loose.

He roared and lunged, taking the young male down. His hands ached and his joints cracked as his body began to transform. His muscles burned and sweat dripped down his face, his vision blurring as his shift started to come over him.

People yelled. There was screaming from…somewhere.

---