Page 36 of Wolf Cursed
“Try it,” Silas said, shoving against Isaac a little as he lurched toward Idrissa.
Idrissa simply smiled.
But Isaac returned the shove, and Silas was forced to take a step backward. I noted the wolf emblazoned on his vest then glanced to his friends. Some of them had a vest to match. Shit. Fear spiked through me. Isaac and Idrissa couldn’t take on an entire biker gang alone, no matter how well Idrissa’s punches landed.
“Last warning,” Isaac said.
Someone else walked up behind Silas and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Come on, man. Let’s get out of here.”
“She’s not one of us,” Silas said without taking his eyes off me.
“Damn straight she’s not,” called a girl standing behind Silas. She crossed her arms and glared back at me.
“Tiffany, eat shit,” Idrissa said.
Tiffany gave her the finger.
My heart hammered against my chest. What the hell was so bad about being from out of town? These people were like a dog with a bone.
The newcomer stepped around Silas to look at me, and I finally saw his face for the first time. Short blonde hair done in a side-swept wave that reminded me of old, classic Hollywood. He wore a leather jacket that really cemented the whole James Dean vibe right down to his distressed jeans and scuffed ankle boots. His smile was the kind that melted hearts—or, at least, I suspected it would if he ever flashed it fully.
For now, I got a half-quirked lip and sparkling blue eyes that were so not in line with a biker guy persona. “So, this is Ashes, huh?”
Ashes. Who the hell had thought up that stupid nickname, anyway?
“It’s just Ash,” I told him icily. “As in kiss my ash.”
The half-quirk turned to a full one. “You’ve got sass.”
“Your friend here was trying to assault me. If he tries that again, I’ve got a lot more than sass for him.”
I reached down and pulled my blade from my boot, making sure everyone saw it. Oscar’s butcher block was now missing a small paring knife, but I couldn’t feel bad about that now. Especially considering I’d been smart to swipe it. Never mind that I’d used duct tape to make an ankle holster.
Idrissa grinned proudly. “Pres, you need to take Silas out back and hose him off or some shit, okay? My girl is one of us now. And she’s with me and Isaac.”
“Is that right?” Pres—or James Dean—asked.
“Even if she werelikeus,” Silas said in a hard voice, “She’s not one of us until she fights. You both know that.”
Isaac hadn’t moved, but his shoulders sagged a little at that. Something about the way Silas said it made it seem more important than a bar brawl.
“The fights are barbaric, Silas. We’re not animals,” Idrissa said.
Silas gave her a weird smile. “Aren’t we though? Besides, look at her face.” He gestured at me. “It clearly wouldn’t be her first.”
I felt my cheeks burn at that, but Isaac saved me from answering.
“She’s not fighting,” he said in a voice that, though quiet, dared anyone to argue.
“Then she doesn’t get to come in here,” Silas said. “Or anywhere else in town. Those are the rules, and you know it.”
I shot a look at Idrissa. Had she known it? Had she expected something like this to happen? Is that what Isaac had meant about their funeral?
My temper flared at that, and I stepped away from Idrissa, making it clear I was fine on my own. Without putting my knife away, I stalked back to the table and grabbed my bag then crossed back to where Isaac and Silas still faced off.
Meeting Silas’ angry gaze head-on, I said, “Whatever kind of bull shit club forces you to fight for the right to day drink with losers like you, I’m not interested anyway.”
He growled.
