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I feel the nerves beginning to roll off of Christian beside me as Jaren continues looking around, watching the Wolves as they slowly creep closer and closer. Time is running out. If I’m going to make a stand and demand their respect, then it needs to be done sooner rather than later. If I decide to wait … later won’t be an option.

“What’s the plan?” Christian urges, low and demanding, the desperation thick in his voice as he tries to figure out how I’m going to play this. I can see the doubt in his eyes. He doesn't think I have the balls to face these guys and say what needs to be said. Christian has somehow taken on the role of my protector despite how annoyed he is that I went behind his back to talk to his sister and happen to have a boyfriend who was seen standing with the Widows. My gut is telling me that he can be trusted, and being Russo’s son, I feel as though that gives him an edge, an advantage. He knows how things work around here, he knows what goes on behind closed doors, and he’s strong enough to stand against his father. It makes him perfect to be my second.

I nervously glance back over my shoulder to find the Wolves a lot closer than I had expected. I discreetly shake my head, wishing I wasn’t knocked up so I could take a shot or six to ease my nerves. “I have no fucking idea,” I tell him.

Jaren sighs, leaning forward onto the bar to keep our conversation quiet. “Hurry up and figure it out,” he tells me, nodding toward the entrance of the Den to where Snake stands, scanning the room, and looking for a target, who I have no doubt is me.

Snake’s eyes come to mine, and he instantly curls his hand into a fist, cupping it with the other and cracking every knuckle in his hand. He looks as though he’s about ready to steal the crown right off my head by sending my brains flying out the side of my ear.

This isn’t good. I wonder how well Christian and Jaren fight? Actually … maybe I should figure out if these two would even be down for throwing themselves in front of a fist for me. I mean, it’s one thing to want to mentor me through it, but not a lot of people are willing to risk a broken nose for some chick that they’ve met only a handful of times.

I turn back to Jaren, not wanting Snake to see just how much his dominance is making my blood run cold. I take a sip of my water, desperately trying to calm my nerves, but when Jaren grunts, I realize that it’s showtime. “Ten seconds.”

Fuck.

“Five.”

Christian gets twitchy beside me, and as Jaren slips his hand under the bar and places a knife down in front of me, I have no choice but to make my move.

I feel Snake’s fingers curl around my arm, the same way they had done as he dragged me away from Colton’s Veneno and then beat the living shit out of me. I won’t be allowing that to happen again.

Like lightning, my hand flies out and my fingers curl around the wooden hilt of the knife. As Snake hoists me up from my seat, I spin around and slam the knife up against his neck, bringing us both to an immediate standstill.

Snake’s hand loosens on my arm, preparing to make some kind of move, but I see the fear in his eyes, and after everything I’ve been through at his hands, he knows damn well that I won’t hesitate, not this time. I have too much to prove.

“You don’t want to do that,” he warns me, playing the role of the tough guy.

I lean into him, pressing the knife deeper into his skin and meeting his angered stare as every Wolf in the room watches on with wide eyes. None of them know for sure just how far I’ll go to prove a point. “Oh, I really think I do.”

Snake clenches his jaw. “You don’t belong here.”

I can’t help but laugh, feeling as though the real me has just stepped right out of my body and is currently letting the crazy version of myself take the reigns. “Ha. You don’t think I’ve figured that out? Go ahead. Say something else. Let’s see how many times you can state the obvious before I get bored and slit this knife right through your throat.”

His eyes narrow, and I don’t doubt that he’s wishing he’d brought his gun along to this little chat we’re having. “You think you’re pretty fucking hot, don’t you? Standing up here, acting as though these guys are going to have your back.”

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