Page 35 of Fighting the Darkness

Oh, hell no.

“Finch, let go of Freya. Now.” My voice reverberates throughout the gym, and Wilder immediately releases his hold, causing Freya to fall backward. I rush over to help her stay on her feet before pulling her away from the two of them.

“You don’t put hands on women, jackass. I know you were raised better than that,” Soren roars, shoving Wilder in the chest.

Wilder stumbles back a few steps before rushing forward and taking Soren down to the mat.

“Idiots,” I hiss as I take Freya’s hand in mine, turning her wrist so I can look at it. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine.” She rolls her eyes.

My jaw clenches when I see the marks his fingers have left on her pale skin. “He marked you.”

Freya glances down at her hand, seeming surprised by the marks, before looking up at me. “It doesn’t hurt. I promise, I’m fine. Wilder, on the other hand, is not going to be when I’m done with him.”

Both of us turn to where Wilder and Soren are rolling around on the floor, each of them getting in a shot here and there. They’re just too evenly matched, as always.

“Shouldn’t you break them up?”

I scoff. “No. I’ll let the two of them keep acting like idiots. The others always enjoy watching the two of them going at it—almost as much as they love watching the dressing down I’ll give them when they’re finished.”

“What’s the deal with the two of them, anyway?”

“There’s some bad blood between them, but that’s not my story to tell. If you want to know why the two of them don’t get along, you’ll have to get it out of one of them.”

She snorts. “Yeah, that seems super likely to happen.”

“Fine!” Wilder yells, finally jumping to his feet before rushing toward us.

On instinct, I step in front of Freya. I hear her huff of annoyance behind me, and I’m sure she’s rolling her eyes. But that’s fine. I just won’t allow Wilder to put his hands on her again.

“Get out of the way, old man.”

I cock an eyebrow. “You want to try that again, Finch?”

“Fuck, Griffin. I’m sorry. May I please speak to Freya?” Wilder runs a hand through his hair.

“I think you’re still just a little too hot around the collar. Go ahead and say what you want to say, but I’m not moving.”

Wilder wants to argue with me—it’s clear on his face, but he just nods. “Fine.”

He moves to the side so he can see Freya and gives her a smile. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“You did, douche,” she tells him, holding up her arm so he can see the marks he left. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Look, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting to see you here. You’re not supposed to be here. And talking to that asshole? I saw red.”

Freya scoffs. “Not good enough, Wilder. You interrupted my training session with Soren.”

“Training session? Like hell, he’s training you.” Wilder throws his hands in the air. “Why the hell are you even training? And why were you yelling when I came in?”

“That’s no concern of yours, douche. Now, if all of you will excuse me, I have a session to do.” Freya’s eyes flash to Soren. “Assuming that idiot one is done being an asshole.”

Soren holds up his hands in surrender but doesn’t say anything.

“You’re not training with him.”

Freya pushes past me, slamming her hands into Wilder’s chest and forcing him back a step. “You’re not the boss of me. Now leave me the fuck alone.”

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