Page 18 of Storm
His eyes flash with something dark and dangerous, a look that makes my heart race with a mixture of fear and excitement.
I lick my lips, wanting to taste him. My body responds to him despite my hatred. Ugh. Why does he have a scent that draws me to him? But most of all.
Why is he so fucking handsome all of a sudden?
Chapter7
Rook
The crowd roars as my fist connects with the alpha's jaw. He staggers back, blood spraying from his split lip, but he doesn't go down. These beta-born alphas are getting tougher. Or maybe I'm getting slower.
"Kill him, Holloway!" Someone shouts from the crowd.
I circle my opponent, keeping my guard up. He's younger than me, with that hungry look they all have when they first start fighting. Like they've got something to prove. I used to be the same way. Now I just need the money.
The alpha lunges, his move so obvious I almost feel sorry for him. I sidestep, letting his momentum carry him past me, then drive my elbow into his kidney. He drops to one knee with a grunt of pain.
"Stay down," I tell him. "No shame in it."
But he doesn't listen.
They never do.
He rises, swaying slightly, blood dripping from his lips onto the dirt floor. The crowd's roar intensifies, a hungry beast demanding more violence. This isn't The Pit. If they want that shit, they can go there. This is just an abandoned warehouse with a makeshift ring and too many desperate alphas looking to prove themselves and make some quick cash.
Just like me.
"You fight like an elite," the young alpha snarls, circling me again. "Too pretty to get your hands dirty."
I almost laugh. If he only knew how many fights I've been in, how many times I've bled onto floors just like this one. Or how many times I've broken my knuckles on the faces of alphas who thought they were better than me.
"Keep talking," I tell him, shifting my weight to the balls of my feet. "Makes it easier to know when to hit you."
He takes the bait, lunging forward with a roar. I weave to the side, catching his arm and using his momentum to slam him into the ground. The crowd goes wild as he lies there, dazed.
The referee starts counting. I back away, flexing my hand. My knuckles are bleeding again, torn open on his teeth. It's not as bad as it used to be. Four years ago, I'd have been a mess after a fight like this. But now? This is just another Friday night.
"...eight, nine, ten!" The ref grabs my wrist, raising it high. "Winner! Rook Holloway!"
The crowd erupts and money changes hands as bets are settled. I scan the faces, looking for the promoter. He owes me for this fight, and I need the cash. Rent's due next week, and the bastard always tries to short me.
I push through the crowd, ignoring the slaps on my back and the offers of drinks. Some of these alphas think buying me a beer means we're suddenly pack brothers. That's not how it works. Not for me. I haven't had a pack since?—
No. I shut that thought down hard. Thinking about her only makes it worse.
The promoter spots me coming and his smile falters. He knows I won't accept anything less than what we agreed on.
"Holloway! Hell of a fight!" He claps me on the shoulder, trying to distract me. I just hold out my hand. "Thousand, Mack. Like we agreed."
He sighs dramatically, pulling out a wad of cash. "Business as usual with you, isn't it? No time for celebration."
"I've got plans."
I count the bills he hands me, making sure it's all there. It is, for once. Maybe the night's going better than I thought.
"Plans?" Mack laughs, a short, ugly sound. "You never have plans. Just fights and that apartment you never leave."
I pocket the money without responding. He's not wrong, but I don't owe him an explanation. My "plans" consist of a shower, some takeout, and passing out until my next shift at the garage tomorrow. Not exactly the exciting life of a champion fighter.
