Page 48 of Golden Eagle

The crowd erupted, shaking the chain link of the cage, screaming, groaning, cheering. Some people loved watching a hero fall.

All Alexei cared about was getting to his offspring. He shoved his way to the gate – “Hey!” “Fuck off!” “What are you do–” – and clambered through, just as Connie was lifting the other vamp’s hand in victory. There was blood on his knuckles, blood on the mat, blood all over Lanny’s face, like a red oil slick, covering everything.

“Fuck,” Alexei swore, and tried to dodge around the winner to get to Lanny.

“Hey,” the vampire’s voice said, deep and commanding. He had a New York accent. Staten Island, Alexei thought.

Alexei pulled up short, and lifted his chin, jaw set. Terrified inside, but glaring anyway.

The other vamp leaned in, laughing, sour-breathed. “Hello, little prince. Your champion ain’t doing so good.”

“What–” Alexei started, shocked, but the opponent stalked out.

And there was Lanny to deal with.

Alexei blew out a deep breath, glanced over his shoulder – the other vampire was at the benches, collecting his hoodie and gym bag, swamped with admirers – and then went to kneel beside Lanny.

His offspring pushed up on an elbow, leaned over, and spat blood on the mat. “Fuck,” he said, voice wet, entire face wet.

Alexei sighed, shaking with nerves and relief. “Come on. Let’s get you up.”

There was no question of him going home to Trina like this.

Maybe, he thought with great regret, Jamie had been right.

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