Page 20 of My Unhinged Alphas
He glances at the faded tattoo peeking from the collar of my shirt. “This isn’t your fucking battlefield, Havoc,” he says.
A flash of my old life in front of my eyes. The military. The uniform. The sanctioned violence that came with medals instead of disapproval.
I don’t miss flags folded too neatly. I don’t miss the smell of sand baked into flesh. What I miss is clarity. Out there, the enemy wore a different uniform.
Here, the lines blur.
I move without warning and catch him in the jaw. He stumbles, then throws a wild punch that splits my lip. The metallic taste hits my tongue.
There it is. I smile wider. “That’s better,” I murmur.
He lunges again, and this time I don’t sidestep. I meet him head-on, drive him backward, and slam him flat on his back. The concrete shudders.
I plant a boot on his chest and lean down slightly. “You done?” I ask.
He coughs, then laughs up at me, defiant. “Not even close.”
I step off him and let him roll to his side, groaning but intact. No bones shattered. No joints dislocated. He got off easy. I turn slightly, scanning the circle. A few of the men look eager, like they want a turn. A few look relieved it wasn’t them.
This is how we bleed off the noise. Some people drink. Some people pray. I fight. Violence is the language I’m most fluent in.
I rub my knuckles together and glance at the entrance just as the energy in the room shifts. Not fear. Recognition.
Knox is there.
“That’s enough.” Knox’s voice carries across the warehouse without needing to rise.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes.
“Motherfucker,” Rafe says from the ground.
“All this over a sandwich?” Knox says. I can feel his disappointment oozing from all his stupid pores.
“Yeah, it was my fucking sandwich.”
Even though I can’t see his face, I can feel him shake his head. “You enjoy this too much.” He stands at the edge of the circle, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. He looks like he regrets every decision that led him here.
“Define enough,” I say without looking at him.
“You’re not extracting information,” he replies. “You’re entertaining yourself. You know what they say about pointless violence.”
“I do,” I say quietly. “But nobody steals my food and gets away with it either.”
“It’s just one stupid sandwich,” he says.
I imagine caving his handsome face in, and that gives me momentary joy. “Sure, if you say so, boss.” My voice is full of disdain. Knox is younger than me by almost a decade. I don’t take orders from him. Well, not unless they’re coming straight from the Brotherhood. I hate it when the elders prefer communicating with him over me.
Knox steps closer. His boots are quiet, deliberate. He doesn’t raise his voice. He never does. “We have an assignment.”
Now I look at him. “And this is cardio,” I say.
He doesn’t smile.
Vale stands behind him, half in shadow. Blond hair catching the low light. Blue eyes unreadable as always. He watches the man bleeding at my feet like he’s waiting for something holy to happen.
It won’t.
“You done?” Knox asks me again.
