Page 6 of Soul Bound

Fuck. That promise. How the hell am I supposed to keep it?

* * *

Present

I barely feelit when his knuckles connect with my jaw for the fourth time. The only difference is this time I’m expecting it and am quickly able to counter-attack with a punch of my own. I go for the ribs, which he left foolishly wide open, obviously not expecting me to fight back.

But he was wrong.

I’ve got some shit I need to work out and fighting, I have found, has helped me more than anything else. Drinking helps, but only for a short time. Wolf shifters metabolize alcohol much quicker than humans, and I decided pretty early on that I don’t want to become a day drunk. I tried isolating myself from everyone and everything. If anything, I think that made it worse.

I tried sitting in class and at the table with my family for dinner, but everywhere I went I saw her face staring back at me. That lifeless stare of hers I see reflected in almost every surface. When I look in the mirror, I see her standing behind me. When I walk by a window, I see her following me. When I try to drown her away in booze, I see her staring back at me from the glass.

Three months ago, I held a woman’s hand as she died and now I see her face everywhere. But I have found that I can make it go away by having it beat out of me.

“Ranger! Fucking fight back!” Ivan calls from the sideline, but his British accent quickly disappears among all the other shouting and yelling.

While my opponent is doubled over, holding his side where my fist had landed, I use that time to slam my knee into his gut. He slumps over even more, catching his breath. Using all of my weight, I throw myself at him, slamming us both to the ground. I pull myself up above him before he has the chance, straddling his torso, I slam my fist into his face repeatedly.

Blood from my busted lip and his now severely broken nose flies everywhere. I feel with every punch more droplets spraying my face. Three months ago, knowing I had caused this kind of harm to someone who doesn’t necessarily deserve it would have bothered me. But now, I don’t even bat an eye at it.

I don’t see when he taps on the mat, indicating he’s done and forfeiting the match. I don’t stop until two other shifters are dragging me off of him. They pull me to the sidelines so the medical staff on-site can collect my injured opponent.

“Get off of me,” I growl at them, shoving their hands off of me at the same time.

“Hell, kid, there was a second there when I thought I was about to lose a shit ton of money tonight, but you pulled through.” Ivan claps me on the shoulder before handing me a fat wad of cash. “Lots of people bet against you tonight—dumbfucks, the lot of them. I always caution them against it, but everyone worries about betting on new blood.”

“I’ve been doing this for two months now. Am I still new blood?” I wipe the blood off my face with a clean towel from the bag I had packed.

“That man you just took down has been doing this for three years, so yes. I’d say you are new blood.” Ivan’s dark eyes watch as they roll the bloodied wolf shifter onto the gurney.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“Hell yeah. Dean’s a strong wolf, he’ll be on his feet by Monday.” Ivan scans my face and grimaces. “What about you, kid? You going to be okay?”

“Physically, I’ll be fine,” I assure him. Mentally is another issue. When you start seeing the face of a dead woman everywhere you go, you start to question your sanity.

“Right. I’m out of here, see you next Friday?”

“You know it.”

I watch the bald wolf shifter leave the warehouse from the large open doors off to the side before I start cleaning myself off. There isn’t a locker room or anything for the fighters to change in before going home, so I have to get cleaned up as best as I can right here. I don’t want to spread blood all over my car seat.

After wiping the blood off my body with a towel and changing into a clean pair of sweatpants, I walk out to the parking lot. It’s September but it’s still warm out when I walk to my car, a nice breeze blows through the air. I’m looking forward to driving home with all the windows down and thinking of the cold shower I want to take once I’m home, I don’t hear the footsteps until it’s too late.

Large hands grab me and attempt to throw me on the ground, but instead, I just stumble forward a bit. I catch my balance and whirl around to see who had just shoved me. Three wolf shifters and one coyote shifter stand there, glaring and snarling in my direction. I recognize them as some of Dean’s buddies, his little entourage of shady friends.

“What the hell is wrong with you guys?” I drop my gym bag off my shoulder so I’m able to defend myself if one of them truly decides to attack.

“I’m getting real sick of you fucking up Dean.” The biggest of them steps forward, his arms that are slightly too short for his body are crossed across his chest. “You’re stepping on some toes you shouldn’t be. I suggest you find another place to fight.”

“Are you serious?” I don’t mean to laugh out loud when he’s done talking, but I do, and I know immediately it was a mistake based on the way their faces contort in anger.

“Deadly serious.” The coyote growls at me, he’s smaller than the wolves, but I’ve seen him fight before and he’s a scrappy thing that likes to fight dirty. “This is Dean’s kingdom and you’re no longer welcome here.”

“Seeing as it’s Ivan’s warehouse and his organization, I would say it’shiskingdom.” I keep my body relaxed but make sure to keep my eyes on each of their movements. I know that this is going to turn bloody, there is no way they are just going to threaten me with their words and then leave. I see one of them is holding something behind their back, my guess is a tire iron or a baseball bat.

“What the hell are you even doing in Canada? This isn’t your pack’s territory, we recognize you. You’re one of those Weylyn kids, you fucks all look the same.” The coyote says my last name like it disgusts him.

---