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“Hat, too, Stinky,” the burly announcer growled. I flinched, but followed his direction. I was lucky they weren’t making me take off my shirt. Finnick was only wearing a pair of gray shorts, like a bunch of the other competitors he’d been standing with.
“You rat’s ass,” I murmured as soon as I got close enough for him to hear. “You’re trying to get me killed, right?” I felt my heart racing. There was the very distinct possibility I would lose this round. And then the Alpha would literally have me killed, probably within minutes. My chest ached, and my eyes stung. “You betrayed me.”
“No, Wills,” he muttered. “I’ve got a plan. I didn’t betray you. This is for fun. After we fight, you’ll get another chance tonight for a bid.”
“Huh?” He thought fighting for my life was fun? “Yeah,” I purred. “I’ll get my bid right after I kick your entitled, airbrushed ass.” I tried to sound like I meant it, but I knew I wasn’t as well trained as him. I sniffed and wiped away the tear sliding down my cheek.
I hated crying. But for some reason, the thought of Finnick betraying me, when he knew what was at stake, gutted me.
His eyes widened, a look of shock crossing his face. “No, listen, Wills. I promise I’ve got a plan—” But he couldn’t finish, because the announcer was asking a question.
“All right, Alpha Heir chooses the form for exhibition fights. Your choice, Alpha Heir McDonnell?”
Exhibition fights? Was Finnick making some sort of example of me? Was this not even a real fight? Oh, hell no.
Finnick nodded. “I choose human form only.”
The announcer grinned. “Right, it’s an exhibition, not an execution.” The shifters around us laughed.
An execution. I shivered. That’s what was ahead for me after this fight. I had to win.
Win, or die.
15
Asking for a Bid
FLOR
“I’ve got a plan,” the chickenshit whispered. “Relax.”
I ignored him, even though I wanted to yell, to tell him to shut up. I shuddered, chewing my lip almost bloody as I tried to remember his weaknesses in our sparring match. Which were fairly nonexistent. I felt another fucking tear fall.
Finnick saw it, and for some reason, stiffened up like he’d been hit by lightning. “I mean it, Wills. Calm down, here’s what’s going to happen?—”
But the announcer was speaking again. “First one to yield is the loser. This is not a death match, but broken bones or major lacerations are not an indication of submission, understand? You must tap out or verbally submit. Y’all ready? Three, two, one…” He let out a howl, and the fight began.
Or it didn’t, really. Finnick and I just stood there, staring at each other. I was shaking, literally shaking so hard, I almost couldn’t focus.
I heard someone say, “Wait, who the hell is that? That’s not a Southern fighter. We don’t have a Will Rains…”
Alpha Callaway let out a loud growl. I darted a glance at him. His voice rose over the murmurs of the crowd. “You better hope he kills you, Flor, because I’m gonna make you wish you’d died after this.” And then some sort of fight broke out right around him—was it Glen, or Brand? I wasn’t sure, because Finnick took the chance to dart forward with a slow right uppercut. I danced backward, my gut curdling.
He peppered a few more blows, and they connected with my shoulder, my arm, my side. All soft, like he was fighting a marshmallow.
Disrespectful. I dropped my guard and glared across the ring.
“Yielding already?” he asked.
“Fuck that,” I spat. “I’m dying tonight one way or another. You may have betrayed me, but you don’t need to mock me.”
Those green eyes flashed with frustration. “I promise you won’t die. I don’t promise I won’t hand you your ass in a real fight.”
I raised my guard. “Big talk, Cityboy. Shut up and put up.”
His eyes sparkled. “Good, this is going to be fun.” For some reason, I didn’t think he was talking about the fight. One edge of his mouth curled up, and he stepped back toward me. “I’m not letting you win this time, Wills. I bet you can’t do it without dirt anyway.”
I didn’t answer. Del had warned me opponents would try to get into my head. Instead of letting the words he said sink in, I slipped into the alert meditative state Del had forced me to learn. The same quiet space I’d found whenever I was hiding from Trevor and his gang. I was silent and deadly, a shadow with fists.
