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Opposite, Xeno slams his glass on the table.
“Jeb?” I whisper, my whole body quaking at his sudden appearance and the animosity Xeno is throwing my way. He’s glaring at me with such fire and fury that I can’t help but react. I could submit to my fear, to the sick feeling that something huge is about to go down. Instead, I straighten my spine and stare back at Xeno, daring him to spill the derision from his lips.
“No that’d be the man sitting to your left. I’m Zayn,” Jeb responds with an evil chuckle.
On the other side of me, Zayn stiffens, but I don’t get to question what the fuck is going on as the overhead lights go out and music starts pumping over the speaker system.
The second the warehouse falls into darkness, their black masks transform, lighting up with the outline of neon red skulls. My mouth falls open at the eerie, floating faces around me. Like headless spectres waiting for the moment to consume me whole and drag me into the depths of hell with them.
“Nice touch, don’t you think?” Jeb says with an amused laugh.
I swallow hard. Nothing about this isnice.
Before me, a spotlight brightens the cage dragging my attention away from their hellish masks. I watch as Dax walks onto the canvas barefoot, wearing just a pair of black boxing shorts with the same red skull motif emblazoned across the silky material. His hands are wrapped up with tape and when he looks over at our table, Dax makes eye contact not with Jeb on my right, but Zayn on my left. A look passes between them. Then, for the briefest of moments, Dax rests his eyes on me, his scowl deepening. I’m not the only one to notice how his fists curl, how he bares his teeth and snarls.
Fuck, who is this man?
“Perhaps you’ve been wondering what the Breakers have been up to these past three years, hmm, Penelope?” Jeb asks, his voice low.
I snatch my head around to look at him, focusing on his eyes beneath the mask, so similar to Zayn’s, yet so vastly different and lit with a red hue that makes him seem more beast than human. “I haven’t,” I hiss. Another lie. I’ve thought of nothing else.
“It turns out that these boys aren’t just talented dancers, but have other gifts too. Dax is a brutal bare-knuckle fighter and performs best in the cage. My nephew can hold his own in a knife fight. York is as light on his feet in the boxing ring as he is on the stage and Xeno, well, Xeno has a special kind of talent. Don’t you Xeno?” Jeb asks, a cruel laugh seeping out from behind his mask.
Xeno’s eyes flare with anger and for a moment I swear he’s about to launch across the table at Jeb, but the music changes and our attention is drawn to another man who enters the cage. Well, at least the attention of the three of us on this side of the table, York and Xeno still have their backs to the cage and seem more interested in what’s going on behind us than anything else. They’re like coiled springs, expecting trouble, ready for it.
Ripping my attention away from them both, my heart flip-flops as a tough looking guy, matched in height and width to Dax, enters the cage. The only advantage I can spot is youth. Dax is probably at least ten years younger than the mean looking bastard. But that means shit. I’ve heard about these underground fight clubs. I know that the fight only ends when the opponent is knocked out or too injured to fight back. Despite everything that’s happened recently. I don’t want to see Dax hurt. I must give away my feelings because Jeb leans closer.
“Relax, Penelope, we both know that Dax is more than capable of winning. He’s brutal when pushed.”
He’s right, Dax is.
