Page 26 of Rocky Top

Bandit? A fucking feral dog. He was just mean. Had to be in this crowd. Not supernatural, not officially, but mean enough it didn’t matter. His knuckles were scarred from fights he’d start, and his heart was a locked room no one had the key to.

And me?

I was the wolf who’d let the animal out in front of a girl who smelled like sunshine and sleepless nights.

“Keep an eye on Bandit,” I said low.

Smokey frowned. “That kid?”

“Somethin’ off about him lately.”

“Off like sketchy?”

“Off like traitor.”

Chevy gaze flicked up then. “I had a dream about Bandit last night. He was bleedin’. Not from the outside.”

“Well,” Smokey drawled. “Ain’t that ominous.”

I sighed, exhausted already. “Y’all keep this place steady tonight. I got somewhere to be.”

“You sure you’re not just avoidin’ the girl?” Chevy asked with a smirk.

I paused, long enough to tell him I was thinkin’ about how hard I could hit him without breakin’ his jaw.

He flinched.

Maybe the fucker could read minds.

“She was in the woods,” I said instead. “Alone. Campin’. Some rogue went after her.”

All three of ‘em sobered.

“Did she see you?” Smokey asked.

I shook my head. “Don’t think so.”

“Does she know?” Chevysaid.

“No. But if that rogue is after her, she’s about to find out what kind of shit this world is made of.”

I left before I said too much.

My apartment was dark and cold and empty, like usual.

I dumped my keys on the counter and peeled off the shirt stickin’ to my side. The wound from the rogue was already closed. He’d gotten a good swipe in, but my blood ran hot, healed fast. Perks of bein’ what I was.

I stood under the kitchen light, starin’ at the scars that never went away.

One ran down my ribcage, left by a silver blade in a fight with a reaper-assassin outta Nashville.

Another across my thigh, earned from a hunt gone wrong in Arkansas.

But the one I never talked about? The one that never showed?

That was the injury from college. The one that blew my knee out and took my whole damn future with it.

One minute I was Rocky Carter, star quarterback at the University of Tennessee. Rocky Top, they called me. Like the song that played when we ran outta the tunnel at Neyland. I thought I’d be the next Peyton Manning someday.

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