Page 35 of Trust in the Fallen

He lets out a breath and leans back against the wall behind him. “She will be. We just have to be patient.”

“He could really hurt her.”

He nods solemnly. “He could.”

I growl and fling the door open, giving little regard for if there’s anyone else in the hallway. I need to get out of here. I can’t handle being here when she’s with him. I can’t stand the sight of his filthy hands on her after all the shit we’ve uncovered in the last week. He doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her.

I’m outside in the cool New York air before Elias can think to catch up to me. I don’t want to go home because it feels fucking empty without her there. I don’t want to go to the club either. Every inch of the fucking place reminds me of her, of the ways I’m going to fuck her as soon as we get her back with us.

Elias catches up just as the valet brings my Ferrari around. I don’t know what made me buy the extravagant car last year, but I’m damn glad I have the kind of speed I need to work out some of my frustrations.

He slips into the car without a word, and I gun the engine toward the only place I can think of that isn’t home or the club.

Neither of us speak as I push the car to its limits through the city, dodging traffic and pedestrians as I go. I wouldn’t normally speed like this in the heart of the city, but I don’t much care right now. I need to be in control of something. I need to feel like I’m doing something, instead of sitting around waiting for Jason to hurt Leighton.

Because that’s exactly what’s going to happen. He’s going to hurt her, and I just hope she’ll still be the same woman we fell hook, line, and sinker for on the other side.

Elias doesn’t ask any questions when I slam my foot down on the brakes outside Riot. Instead he climbs out of the car and strides inside with me by his side. This is why we work so well together. We know when to question one another. We know how to deal with the moods we each get in. And right now, I need to feel someone else’s blood on my fists. I need to hold another human’s life in my hands and watch as the spark dims from their eyes.

Everyone thinks I’m the happy-go-lucky one out of the two of us, that Elias is the brutal one, but they have no idea of the darkness running through my veins.

Kovu catches sight of us, and a wicked grin spreads across his face. This is his show to run, and one he runs so fucking well none of the other members of the Legion would think of taking it away from him.

His wild blue eyes are more subdued than normal tonight, and it’s not until I notice the flecks of blood across his face that I realize why. He’s just been in the ring, and if the blood is anything to go by, I’m willing to bet the other guy has taken his final breath.

He runs a bloody hand through his chocolate-brown hair, brushing the sweaty strands away from his face and giving the room around him a view of his tattoos. The man is covered head to toe from what I can tell and makes no attempt to cover the art etched into his skin.

“What are you two fuckers doing here?” He slaps me on the back, smearing some poor asshole’s blood over my tailored suit. I’m sure Martha, our housekeeper, will appreciate that when she finds it. “Bish said you had some fancy gala tonight; otherwise I would have invited you.”

“You know he hates it when you call him that.” Elias chuckles.

“That’swhyI call him that.” He smirks.

“I need to fight,” I tell him, not bothering to beat around the bush.

He turns his intense eyes on me before looking over what I’m wearing. “We better find you something else to wear otherwise these pissants will think they’ve got an easy win on their hands.”

Elias shakes his head. “They always think that anyway.”

“And they’re always wrong.” I smile.

It doesn’t take long to find me a pair of Bishop’s shorts he keeps here and change. He may be the most together of the four of them, but that doesn’t mean he’s not every bit as bloodthirsty as the rest of them are.

You don’t step up into the role of gatekeepers of the New York City underworld without craving blood as badly as you do your next breath.

I look around the busy club that doubles as a fighting ring and spot Elias and Kovu by the huge ring in the center of the space. I’ve kicked off my shoes and haven’t bothered with the shirt he handed to me as I stride through the throes of people, each staring at me as I pass. The people that come here do so for the brutality of it just as much as the fighters.

“You ready?” Kovu asks.

“You found me an opponent?”

He smirks. “Of course I have.”

I jump up into the ring and bounce from foot to foot, warming up my muscles. The workout I did this afternoon before the gala was more about getting the nervous energy out than preparing for a fight, but it’ll do.

The man who climbs into the ring across from me is exactly what I would expect in a place like this. A guy who has more muscles than brains, angry pimples all over his chest and arms are the evidence of steroids, and his pupils are blown wide. There’s no rules here to say you can’t be hopped up on drugs during a fight, and I’d be willing to bet a lot of money that’s exactly what I’m staring at right now.

He smirks when he sees me, thinking he’s got himself an easy match up. I’m not the biggest guy in this place, but my six foot three frame is muscular without being bulky.

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