Wrecked (Shadow Sentinels #2) - Karen Tomlinson Page 0,138

Connor, nor Charlie would tell me what they had planned.

I kissed Rawson’s cheek. My throat tightened. I had no words.

He gave me a brief hard hug and cleared his throat. “Go on, now.”

“No mercy, Ember.” Stone echoed Connor’s sentiments as my gaze rested briefly on him.

I lifted my chin, regressing to the drug dealer I’d been before seeing Connor again. “I have no mercy,” I told him coldly and walked away from my new family, hiding my heavy heart.

Under the direction of the guards, a group of about twenty-five shifters gathered. All the guards’ hardware was set to kill. I studied the tight faces of those around me. The prisoners watched the guards with cold eyes and tight faces. Santa Cruz smirked at me from across the line of heads. I dropped my gaze, keeping my head low and spine bowed. He gave a huff of laughter, and I hid my smile.

Yeah, you believe me submissive and weak, you arrogant fucker.

It was the way I wanted all these potential enemies to view me. I’d fought hard in the training ring these past weeks, but I wasn’t stupid, showing all my tricks in front of any possible opponents would have been a mistake. I wasn’t worried about losing, nor was I worried about ending any of these people. I didn’t care about any of them, except Reed; and I’d do what was necessary to survive, protect my wolf—and get back to Connor.

The guards yelled, pulling me from my thoughts. We were forced to walk down a wide stairwell which exited into a massive caged area. Once we were corralled, the guards closed and locked the door to the stairs.

The noise from the arena rattled my ear drums. With no escape from the reality of our situation, the others began to fan out. I found a seat on a bench in a corner where I could observe everyone and tried not to think about what was happening to Charlie. She’d taken some of the darts that Connor had thrown to the ground. I hoped like hell they would at least give her a chance to save her life when she needed it.

A large, naked male limped back into the cage from the arena entrance. I noted the way he leaned heavily on his right leg and flexed his right hand like it hurt. Blood trickled from his broken nose and the multiple lacerations on his back and shoulders. Automatically, I assessed and clocked his weaknesses and planned how I’d end him.

I ignored Santa Cruz, who spent more time staring at me than he did anyone else. I shrugged it off, and instead spent my time observing and sizing up my potential enemies; those who survived their fights and returned to the cage.

A water dispenser had been placed in one corner and there was access to a toilet block. That was it; no food and no hope of escape. After a couple of hours of just sitting, I got up and began to stretch and loosen my muscles. Some people watched me, others didn’t care, their shoulders slumped and their eyes pinned to the ground.

Once my body was limber again, I paced to the front of the cage, right next to Santa Cruz. We observed the small amount of the arena we could see.

“You’re gonna to die, cute ass,” he drawled, looking down sideways at me.

I shrugged, observing a large male who fought a smaller woman. Both had been forced by those silver collars into Were-form. A Were-wolf fighting a Were-panther. With their forms caught in a half-shift, they were clumsy, their movements haphazard, though vicious. Out of my line of sight, animalistic noises from other cages filled the air, along with the roar of the crowd.

The fight between the man and the woman didn’t last long. The Were-panther didn’t stand a chance. She wasn’t a bad fighter and was quicker than the Were-wolf, but his strength far outmatched hers. I didn’t look away when he snapped both of her arms, sliced her throat open with his claws and then broke her neck. When it was done, and his collar had been set back to full power, he reverted to his human form. Panting and falling to his knees, he growled at those cheering from above. The uproar of clapping and jeering made my ears ring.

The guards used cattle prods to force the man to his feet. His torn clothes fell from his damaged body, leaving him naked. Uncaring, he snarled and spat

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