Page 56 of Bonds of Pain
“This is barbaric,” I whisper, feeling sick as Poe recovers enough to drive his elbow into Ares’s temple.
Cillian finally looks up at me, his ice-chip eyes unreadable. “Welcome to pack dynamics. This is how we settle things.”
Unless Logan tells us what to dois the part he leaves unspoken.
Barbarism aside, with neither man willing to concede, I have to wonder what kind of night awaits me with whichever blood-soaked victor emerges.
Once emotions get this high, Alphas either fight or they fuck.
The fight will end, but that energy will only have one outlet left.
Me.
“Enough!” I shout, launching myself between them without thinking.
Poe’s fist is already in motion as I appear in his path. His eyes widen in horror as he realizes I’m suddenly there. At the last possible second, he twists his arm wide, throwing himself off balance. Simultaneously, Ares lunges to knock Poe’s arm away from me.
The result is a sickening crack as Poe’s shoulder connects with Ares’s deflection at an unnatural angle. Poe lets out a grunt of pain, immediately cradling his injured arm against his chest.
Before I can even process what happened, Ares grabs me by the shoulders, spinning me around to face him. His hands move frantically over my arms, neck, and face, checking for injuries.
“Are you insane?” he growls, his voice vibrating with fury and fear. “Never get between two Alphas. Not ever!” His fingers continue their inspection, turning my face from side to side. “You could have been seriously hurt. What were you thinking?”
“I’m fine,” I insist, pushing his hands away. “But this stops now.”
Cillian comes approaches to carefully presses into Poes injured shoulder. “She’s right. This is ridiculous.”
Poe pulls away from him with a grimace. “It’s not over until someone wins.”
“No, it’s not fair,” I continue, straightening my spine and lifting my chin. “I’m supposedly a member of this pack now, right? That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” I look between them both. “Then I should have the right to fight for myself.”
A moment of silence hangs in the air as both men stare at me. Their expressions shift from confusion to disbelief and then?—
They both burst out laughing.
Ares doubles over, his massive shoulders shaking with mirth. Even Poe, despite his injured arm, can’t contain himself, his usually stoic face cracking into genuine amusement.
“What’s so funny?” I demand, heat rising to my cheeks.
“You,” Ares manages between laughs, “fighting one of us?”
“I basically killed a man,” I remind them, my voice cold. “Or did you forget that part?”
Poe’s laughter subsides slightly. “With a knife. Against a restrained opponent. That’s not exactly the same as hand-to-hand combat against trained fighters. Even if I lost this shoulder and tied both my legs together, you wouldn’t stand a chance, sweetheart.”
“And if Darius had half of a brain, he would have dislocated his own wrist, slipped out of the restraint and then broken your neck,” Cillian points out. “Next time you’re in that situation with someone who isn’t a pussy, things might not go so well.”
“Dislocated his own wrist,” I repeat in disbelief.
He shrugs. “I’ve done it before.”
I decide to let that go and turn back to Poe and Ares, who are both still swallowing back the last of their amusement.
At this point, I don’t care where I spend the night. I just need there not to be anymore broken bones or blood spilled.
Distracting them is the first solution that comes to mind.
“So teach me,” I challenge. “Instead of fighting over me like I’m some kind of prize to be won, teach me to fight for myself.”
