Page 135 of Caelum

I flinched as Stefan’s balled up fist rammed into Samuel’s nose. As blood gushed, I wanted to scream, but Samuel didn't appear to be hurt.

The tolerance these men had for pain frightened me. Not because they were superhuman—even if they were—but it told me what they'd had to endure in their lives that this level of violence didn't actually hurt them anymore.

Sure, I was certain their pain receptors were functioning, that they were accustomed to it. So accustomed, that even though I assumed Stefan had broken Samuel’s nose, Samuel didn't refrain from tipping his head forward and butting into Stefan’s.

Stefan staggered back at the hit, but the two instantly raised their fists and began jabbing wherever they could reach. An uppercut here, a jab there. A forward kick to the gut from Samuel was received with a groan by Stefan, and my Chosen reciprocated by stamping on Samuel’s foot.

The others didn't bother to stop them again, and I knew that was a testament to their experience too. They didn't see anything wrong with the fight, didn't realize what they were doing.

But I did.

I'd inadvertently joined these two Packs, and here they were, on the first day, fighting.

It was dangerous. I knew that. I was in no way ready to be hurt by them, and my pain threshold was not even close to theirs, but I had to do something. And the truth was, I deserved it. I deserved an accidental slap to the face or a punch to the gut.

I'd broken these men.

Whatever was in me that made me different, it had stained them, tarnishing them in ways that were irrevocable.

Before any of the boys, because at that moment they were definitely boys, could stop me, I dove straight into the fight. Because the two were so intent with their stupid brawl, they didn't realize I was there. It took only a split second before I was on the receiving end of two punches: one from Stefan to the shoulder, and one from Samuel to the back. Right where my kidney was, if I'd hazarded a guess.

And it hurt. Goodness, it hurt so bad.

They hadn't pulled their punches, and I let out a sob as the pain filtered through me. Even while I wanted to crumble to my knees, wanted to fall forward to prop myself up, I didn't. I couldn’t. I needed to stop this.

“We're not these people anymore,” I cried out through the pain. My God, Stefan and Samuel were strong. How had I not known exactly how strong?

When they'd realized what they'd done, my words broke the spell of their shock. Stefan rushed at me, his hand immediately coming up to cup my face as he stared deep into my eyes, and he whispered, “What the fuck did you do that for?”

There was terror in his voice, pain and hurt. I heard it, hurt for it, but I shook my head at him. “You were fighting. You’re not supposed to do that anymore.”

He closed his eyes and shook his head. “He accused you?—”

“No, he didn't. He asked a sensible question. I did do something to Dre. I don't know what,” I admitted, and my words were ridiculously husky as I tried not to whimper at the aches gathering in my lower and upper back. “You can't keep fighting each other. It’s day one, and you already have.”

He winced, and when I turned around to face Samuel, I saw that he, too, flinched at my words. His mouth worked as though he wanted to say something, and I could see his guilt and shame plain as day.

Having been raised in the compound, violence against women was normal. My father had often slapped my mother, and I'd often heard him beat her in their bedroom at night. There’d been no shame in it; it was how life was there. I'd known that if I misbehaved too much, I would be hurt in a similar manner. So while it was normal to me, I had to admit, their shame and sorrow soothed me as nothing else could.

They weren't those kind of men, and if there was any good news to be found within this situation, it was that.

During the fight, my attention had been focused on them, but now, I glanced around the clearing as all the men were looking at me with astrange collection of emotions on their faces. Shame and mortification, humiliation and horror. There was even a trace of fear, panic even. But I ignored it all, intent on trying to find the bear.

The creature had wiggled out of the small space he'd shoved himself into. The trees were gathered quite close together, and he'd tried to hide between them. It would have been amusing if I hadn't been terrified over what was happening.

When the bear sat back, the move reminded me of the babies at the compound who sank onto their cloth-diapered behinds, huffing as they did so. In that position, I couldn't say Dre looked particularly cuddly, but he was a damn sight less frightening like that than he was standing.

With the bear in situ, attention averted to him, and I was glad he’d helped me redirect the growing tension.

“What did you do?” Frazer asked me, but his question was a lot softer than Samuel’s.

There had been accusation in Samuel’s tone, but not enough to warrant the start of a fight.

“He was talking to me about his morning ritual,” I admitted.

Frazer frowned at me. “Morning ritual?”

I nodded. “He said that every morning, he checked in with his souls and figured out which one he was for the day.” When all the men nodded and looked at me in confusion, I sensed I was the only one who didn't do this. Either this was a memo I'd never received or it simply didn't work for me.

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