Page 3 of Storm
Now it’s all I have to keep me going.
His promise.
Chapter2
Storm
Six Weeks earlier.
“Promiseme you’ll stay here and watch my bag. Don’t take that hoodie off, Storm.” Rook’s eyes warn me. I can see the tick in his jaw. He probably wishes he could use his alpha bark on me, but it doesn’t work. I’m a beta. I flip the hood over my wild curls, breathing in his strawberry and cream scent, and wink over at him. I watch him roll his eyes as he lets out a deep breath. He knows I’ll do whatever I want.
“I’m serious this time. I need you to not make a scene. Promise me. This is the pay day we have been waiting for. You need to stay here. I can’t concentrate with you close.”
I let out a small huff, but nod and agree. With all the testosterone and pheromones around, it would be dangerous to draw attention to myself. We hadn’t been back here in a month, because last time, I set off an alpha who went into a rut, and saw me as nothing but a hole to fill.
Me and my big mouth get ourselves into trouble sometimes.
I don’t want Rook distracted with trying to save my ass again while he’s fighting. I love to watch him fight and I want to be here to support him. He only has a year left in the system and then he’s out on the street. He needs to make as much money as he can to support himself. He always tells me when it’s time to leave, he is taking me with him. That he has enough money for me, but now he’s working on making some for him. I tell him all the time I could get a job, but beta jobs are low paying. As an alpha, he makes more than I would. But he’s a beta-born alpha—the lowest class of alpha—and it doesn’t pay much more than a beta.
All those purebred elites sit in their mansions and penthouses with all the money in the world. Not having to fight for anything in their life. Just because their bloodlines have no beta blood mixed in—it doesn’t make them special. It makes them assholes.
I feel a tug on my hoodie and see Rook’s fingers have grabbed the front as he tugs me towards him. He cocks a brow and I lean in the short distance to kiss him.
For good luck. For him and me. I hate seeing him hurt. I get a little…upsetat times. But no matter what happens, we always have each other.
On the very first day we met, he promised he would always look out for me. He told me that once we had our own home, he'd prepare the most amazing meals for me. On that first day in Mrs. Jennings’s house, I thought he was out of his mind—a handsome, quirky beta who, only two years later, turned out to be an alpha just after his sixteenth birthday.
His alpha and my beta status didn’t change a thing in his future plans. If anything, it gave him more hope. The future we dreamed of having, had just been made easier with his alpha status. He can fight and make more money.
The underground fight rings aren’t pretty. I have seen alphas get knocked out and get real messed up. But it’s not all bad. It’s where a lot of elites come to prove their strength against the beta-borns. Because down here strength isn’t bought, it’s earned in the ring.
At least it’s not The Pit. The Pit is the deepest, darkest fight ring where alphas go to die. Because that’s exactly what it is. A grave waiting to be filled.
It pays out the most, but more alphas leave in body bags than with the riches they were chasing. All the fight clubs are illegal, but The Pit is run by the shady elites who don’t cheer for winners. They cheer for survivors. It’s the one promise Rook made to me. That he’ll never fight there.
Rook towers over me.He’s so tall at 6’7. His broad shoulders and muscular arms envelope me in a protective hug. I feel safe in his arms. He’s the only person in the world who can make me feel this way.
I bury my face in his chest and am greeted with comforting strawberries and cream up close. I can hear his heart beating steadily against my ear, a rhythm that soothes and calms me.
When he pulls away, he gives me a small grin before tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Stay here.”
I watch him as he backs away, lifting his tee over his head throwing it at me and I catch it. His lean alpha body might be smaller than the older alphas here, but I love seeing him without a shirt. I lick my lips and try to think about something other than his abs…ugh.
Jumping on the spot and warming up, Rook turns around and grins at me. He knows I’m checking him out. His dark brown hair falls into his dark eyes before he turns away. Some alphas move in front of me and I itch to leave this spot. Because it makes it hard to see who he’s up against. He said this is the pay day we have been waiting for, and I worry. I hate when he’s not evenly matched. I hear the crowd boo loudly and I whip my head around, trying to see who has entered the ring.
It’s not hard to tell by the crowd that it’s an elite alpha. One thing beta-borns have in common with each other, we all have a universal hate for the elites. Those alphas and omegas have pure lines without the stain of beta blood mixed in. Which apparently makes them better than anyone else.Fuck them.
When I finally catch sight of the alpha, I cringe. “Fuck,” I hiss under my breath.
Reed Howard.
A family name that fell from grace so hard, even the beta-born still whisper about it. But he’s still standing. Still wearing the sharp suits, still carrying himself like his name isn’t tainted. Like he still belongs with them.
Because that’s the thing about elites. Even when they fall, they never hit the ground like the rest of us.
And I hate that I know him.
Hate that I recognize the sharp line of his jaw, the storm in his eyes, the way he looks like he was built to ruin someone in the best way possible.
