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Donovan was off checking if anyone in the pack was wearing a brooch. He didn’t want to leave my side, but having him hovering over me made me even more on edge. So, he’d left. I thought identifying the brooch was the best place to start, but if his approach worked, even better.
I’m not finding anything. Please tell me you’ve had better luck.
No. I did manage to have an extremely awkward exchange with Lydia. She was wearing a hair clip that looked like it could be a brooch.
I didn’t know who Lydia was, but I wanted to know more. What’d you do?
I asked to borrow it.
He’d asked to borrow a hair clip? Good call.
I figured it was better than ripping it off her head. Anyhow, I touched it and tried to call Bhrunyz, but nothing happened. She gave me the oddest look when I handed it back to her.
Well, I don’t want to miss out on watching you being awkward with your pack. Where are you?
Sparring room. I’m working with Ian. I’m glad you’re coming here. I’d feel much better if you were in my sights.
He was worried, but I was going to be fine. We’d find the brooch before I ran into Bhrunyz again. We had to. The alternative wasn’t an option.
I found my way through the stronghold maze with a little help from Donovan. If I couldn’t figure out how to get around, I was going to need him to make me a map. This place was ridiculous.
At least I didn’t have to find my way to his quarters first. I’d dressed for a fight, assuming I’d find the brooch and our traitor right away. Apparently, I’d been overly optimistic, but the leggings, kicks, layered flowy shirts, and a hoodie meant I was set for pretty much anything. I might freeze my ass off if I had to leave the stronghold, but I was hoping to stick close by. At least for now.
When I reached the sparring room, it was crowded. Small groups had formed. Some were working out and some were sparring, but most were chatting while watching Donovan and Ian’s fight at the center of the room.
I paused in the doorway to watch. Donovan spun to avoid a hit, and Ian lost his balance. He slammed into the floor with a sickening crunch.
I winced as Ian got to his feet, his arm tight against his body. I wasn’t sure if it the bone was broken, but if it was, it would take a few hours to heal. This room made no sense to me. The only space that wasn’t gray stone was the wooden doorway. With stone walls and floors, a simple wrong move could send you to the pack medic. Not fun.
Why not pad this place? I asked Donovan through the bond.
Aye. We should. I’ve been meaning to make this room more modern, but some of the pack members like things the way they are. Donovan bounced on the balls of his feet. His sweatpants rode low on his hips, but not a single drop of sweat glistened on those perfect abs. What a shame.
Ian, on the other hand, was dripping. His T-shirt was stuck to his skin, showing his muscles. He was cut well enough, but a little too thin. His face was beet red as he tried to catch his breath and figure out how to take down Donovan.
I started weaving through the room, making my way toward Donovan, but couldn’t get over the fact that the sparring room at the Irish stronghold didn’t hold a candle to the one at home. I sighed. The stone was dingy and smelled a little mildewy from absorbing so much sweat over the years. It looked like there was going a lot more to do here besides installing Wi-Fi and making an emergency plan. The entire stronghold needed an overhaul.
Ian tried a pitiful move to kick Donovan’s feet out from under him, and I almost laughed. This was ridiculous.
Werewolves were naturally stronger and faster than humans. Adding in our ability to heal, we were pretty unstoppable. At least, that was what some Weres thought until they had to go up against something that was bigger and badder than them. That was why we Wayfarers trained so hard. St. Ailbe’s had a similar training philosophy, requiring two hours a day of intense training. Most young Were guys were also practicing for the Cazadores test, so they trained at least double that.
From what I knew about the Irish pack, they didn’t really leave their stronghold much. They kept to themselves, and they weren’t very welcoming to others. Donovan might like to have enough room for visitors, but the only person I’d ever known to have contact with the Irish pack was Shannon. And she’d never wanted to talk about her home pack. Ever.
It seemed like while they were hanging out in the stronghold, they’d let a lot of things go. They weren’t up to speed with technology or the modern era and their physical shape was pitiful.
Your fourth looks like he’s about to pass out. What’ve you done to him?
Nothing! I swear it!
I stopped next to a group of women. I’d been looking for Saoirse, but she wasn’t there. Thankfully, neither was Vivian. It took a minute for the group to notice me. Then, slowly, the little bits of chatter in the room died down as I stepped up behind Ian and tapped him on the shoulder. “You mind if I cut in?” I unzipped my hoodie and tossed it off to the side.
“No.” Ian bent over, hands on his knees. “Fuckin’ hell. Been sparring with that bastard for two hours now, and I’m tapped out.”
I patted his shoulder. “I didn’t get to see all of it, but he’s a beast to beat.”
Straightening, Ian huffed. “Can’t be done. It’s impossible.”
“Challenge accepted.” I rubbed my hands together. “Let’s do this,” I said as I waved Donovan forward.
