Page 74 of Unhinged
Warehouse space, wide and loud, packed with bodies and heat. There’s a cage in the middle of the floor—raised slightly off the ground so the whole place has a view—eight feet high and thick with bloodstains. Two men inside are going at it, fists flying, no gloves. Around the perimeter, tables of high-rollers throw cash, drink cocktails from scantily clad servers, and shout for blood.
“What the fuck,” I breathe, more as a statement than a question.
“This isourtown,” Arrow hisses.
Acid just stares, jaw tight. “This was a storage warehouse…That’s what we were told. Someone put a damn door in and now we have a fight club.”
I keep scanning until I find her.
There she is. Brydgett, striding like she owns the floor. She’s all hips and heat, even in her jeans and boots, and she’s heading straight for a table near the cage. A tall guy stands to greet her—mid-thirties, stocky, his alpha aura rolling off him. She doesn’t flinch. Just takes his hand, drops into the seat across from him like they’re equals.
I see him wave a server over. She says something, points at the guy. His smile twitches, pissed, but the server leaves and returns with a sealed bottle. Brydge pops it and takes a long pull.
She’s talking, laughing low, eyes sharp. I can’t hear her, but I know that look. It’s the same one she gave me right before she cracked her head against my nose.
Then the alpha’s smirk changes. Darkens. Brydgett leans back, nods once.
And she’s up, disappearing into the crowd.
Gone.
"Find her. Right the fuck now," I bark.
We split up, fanning through the crowd, searching every pocket of space. I shove through gamblers, ignore the half-naked girls asking if I want a drink. All I want is her. My omega.
She’s not in the bathrooms. Not near the bar. Not beside the cage.
Then the lights drop low.
A spotlight flares over the cage.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” A voice booms over the speakers. “A last-minute addition to tonight’s card. The reigning women's champ, Tiffany…versus the Renegade President’s Old Lady!”
I freeze. My heart drops to my boots.
What the fuck?
The crowd roars. I turn slowly, like my body’s in molasses.
She steps into the cage.
Brydgett. Wearing a black sports bra and tiny shorts that hug every wicked curve. A large white bandage covers the bullet wound at her side, stark against her skin. Her hair’s braided back. Her eyes locked on her opponent. She looks like sin.
I shove forward, elbowing past meatheads and drunks until I’m at the cage. I grip the chain link and bark, "Get your ass over here right now, Omega!"
She hears me. Smiles. Saunters over and squats so we’re eye-level.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I growl.
She sighs like I’m exhausting her. “Well, Gearsy, you three weren’t exactly stealthy following me. Nikola, that’s the alpha I was chatting with. He got a little pissy when he realized the Renegade MC was sniffing around. So now I have to fight if we want that info.”
“No.”
“Yes.” Her grin is all teeth. “It was this, or pick one of you to shoot. Arrow made me feel good, and I kinda like Acid’s deranged little heart. I could’ve picked you…” She taps the cage with a fingernail. “But your mom and sister like you too much. So here we are.”
“You’re insane.”
“I’m resourceful.”
