Page 57 of Pistols & Peonies

Fierce. Beautiful. Mine.

My inner wolf shoves forward, watching her through my eyes with rapt attention, and I’m just as riveted.

Violet baits the guy as he tries to corner her. Lets him take the first swing, then pivots cleanly out of reach and snaps a kick into his ribs. He stumbles back, regains his footing, and lunges again. She weaves, dodges, then drives a brutal punch into his kidney that nearly drops him to his knees.

The crowd goes nuts, and while I didn’t come here to spectate, I can’t look away.

She’s good– far better than I’d expect for someone who’s never served as a pack soldier. Not just strong, but genuinely skilled. She fights dirty, though, pulling slippery, underhanded moves like she learned how to spar in back alleys rather than sanctioned matches.

Fascinating.

I thought I’d almost solved the puzzle that is Violet Slayter, but this…

This is a curveball I never saw coming.

Her challenger recovers, slings an arm around her waist, and tries to slam her to the mat. For a split second, it looks like she’ll go down– then she wrenches sideways, drives her elbow into his temple, and uses the momentum to flip him clean over her hip. He hits the mat with a hollow thud, and she pounces, pinning him with her knees bracketing his thighs and her forearm tight across his throat.

Her eyes flick up, bright and alive, skimming the crowd like she’s searching for someone to share her victory with. She’s grinning from ear to ear until our gazes lock.

Her smile falters.

The onlookers notice, the temperature in the room changing on a dime. I feel the weight of their attention shift toward me, a ripple of realization moving through the room. It’s as if someone lobbed a live grenade onto the gym floor, the roar of the crowd collapsing into stunned silence.

Violet’s opponent takes advantage of her distraction, hands circling her waist as he angles to throw her off. My wolf surges, possessive instinct pulsing through me.

I’ve had enough.

A low growl rumbles in my chest as I step forward. “Get your hands off my mate,” I snarl, voice edged with steel.

His eyes go wide. He jerks his hands away from her body like he’s been burned, scrambling out from underneath her. “C-Commander Kane,” he chokes, clambering to his feet and wiping sweat from his brow. “I didn’t… I-I was just…”

“Leaving,” I finish for him, letting my wolf show in my irises to cement the order.

He nods quickly, scrambling away, while Violet rises from the mat unhurriedly. A lazy smile curves her mouth as she catches my eye, like she’s daring me to lose my cool.

Something hot and dark coils in my chest, but I don’t let it show. I keep my face blank, arms folded, expression locked down tight.

I don’t so much as blink as she advances in my direction, her chest heaving, knuckles split and bleeding. The bond strains between us, taut as a wire as she walks straight up to me, inclining her chin to hold my gaze. A line of sweat trails down her temple, and I have to fight the urge to reach up and wipe it away.

“I’m not doing your fucking desk job,” she says, voice flat.

I hold her stare for a long moment, taking in the faint tremor in her hands and the bruise already blooming beneath her left eye. Then I erase the last sliver of distance between us, crowding in so close that her wolf’s energy brushes against mine, wild and electric.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” I murmur.

She shrugs, unapologetic. “Not the first time. Won’t be the last.”

I exhale sharply through my nose. “Let’s go,” I growl, reaching for her elbow.

She jerks back, slipping neatly out of reach. “No.”

I arch a brow with lethal calm. “No?”

“Tell you what.” She clucks her tongue, lifting her chin as a wicked smile curves her lips. “If you can beat me in a match, I’ll leave with you.”

A ripple of excitement rolls through the crowd, murmurs swelling as her challenge lands.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I mutter.