“Stay close, angel,” he growls over his shoulder.
It’s the first time he’s called me that in hours. Weirdly, it makes me feel safer, like it’s a reassurance that he’s looking out for me.
We push our way through the throng of bodies, and I can tell some of the creatures around us recognize what I am, because they glare at me with such hatred that I’m taken aback. I know supernatural creatures don’t really like my people—or the corrupted, for that matter, since we’re always fighting and stuff—but I had no idea that they would hate me personally so much. Just on principle.
My heart thrums hard and fast in my chest, and I end up holding onto Remington with one hand and grabbing onto the back of Beckett’s shirt with the other. The dark-haired sin pauses for a moment and glances back at me; I expect him to look amused at my nerves, but he just nods and then turns back and keeps walking.
I’m not sure if the people—the creatures—around us recognize that these three men are three of the seven sins. The sins aren’t meant to stand out the way some other supernatural creatures are. Their ability to blend in helps them influence people better. Like Beckett said, subtlety is key.
But whether the creatures around us recognize that these are the sins themselves or not, people stay out of their way. Nobody tries to come after us or steps in our path to stop us. I think it’s because these three men are each, in their own way, making it extremely clear that you do not want to mess with them.
Remington’s being quiet about it, but Phoenix looks like he’d be pissed as all get out if someone made him actually lift a finger to fight, so they better not even try, and Beckett’s radiating the same sort of commanding alpha energy he always does.
Everyone shuffles back, ducking their head down. A few people mumble under their voices as they watch us pass, but I can’t tell what they’re saying. I doubt it’s flattering.
We finally make it to the front of the crowd. I’m short, and a lot of the people around me are tall, so it’s hard for me to see until Remington gently places his palm at the small of my back and pushes me forward a little, his hands settling on my shoulders to keep making it clear to the creatures around us that I’m with him as I take in the scene before us.
My breath hitches.
The two men in the center of the ring are beating each other to a pulp. I inhale sharply as my stomach churns at the carnage.
This isn’t a proper boxing fight. It isn’t even what you’d call a proper boxing ring. It’s more like a pit with a few chains strung around to keep the spectators from leaping in or the fighters from falling into the crowd. Though I’m not sure the crowd would mind all that much if that did happen. They all seem keyed up, full of blood lust.
I’ve never seen anything like this before. How can you enjoy watching one person hurt another?
“Why are we here?” I whisper to Remington, shrinking back against him a little. My wings quiver in my back, yearning to burst free and wrap themselves protectively around my body. “What are we looking for?”
Remington bends down so that his mouth is right at my ear. “Ford. He’s in the ring right now.”
I squint, watching the two men. It takes me a moment to adjust my eyes, to get used to how fast they’re moving and recognize them as two individuals rather than two blurs. But then they part, panting, and one of them catches my eye.
This must be Ford. It has to be.
It’s like I’ve seen a coiled tiger for the first time, and I can’t tear my gaze away. He’s the epitome of Wrath in this moment, radiating rage and fury. It’s churning the crowd into a frenzy—and they’re giving it right back to him. He’s feeding off of it. Like a loop.
My teeth clamp down firmly on my bottom lip as I stare at the man before me.
He’s… he’s beautiful.
I really don’t know what I thought the personification of Wrath would look like, but I didn’t think it would be like this. Lean, coiled muscles, blond hair that looks like it would be soft when it’s not flopping into his eyes and dark with sweat, sparking blue eyes, a chiseled jaw that doesn’t look too harsh. There’s a perfect balance between hard and soft in the lines of his body, and it makes him look even deadlier, like his rage could be a whisper as well as a roar.
Ford circles his opponent, baring his teeth in a smile that’s oddly charming even as it scares me a bit. It’s not fear for myself, but for the guy he’s up against. I can already tell that poor sucker doesn’t stand a chance.
The blond man lunges forward, his fist cocking back and slamming into the side of his opponent’s face, and I can hear the poor guy’s head snap back. I gasp as the crowd cheers.
Phoenix snorts, glancing at me. “What, is this too much for ya, sweets?”
Remington soothingly massages my shoulders. “Take it easy on her, Nix, she’s used to being Above after all.”
His brother snorts.
“You’d better get used to it, angel,” Beckett tells me, his voice a low rumble that cuts through the roar of the crowd. He looks at me with a smirk on his face, and I glare at him in return. I’m sure it’s pretty obvious that this is my first bareknuckle boxing match, but that doesn’t mean they all have to point out how freaked I look. I’m already painfully aware of it.
Ford pummels his opponent for a few moments and then jumps back. He’s like a snake, darting in to strike with a speed I didn’t know was even possible. I wonder if that’s a supernatural ability, or if he’s just so well-trained and full of fury that it’s giving him an extra burst of strength.
“He’s toying with him,” I murmur suddenly as realization strikes me.
“You bet he is.” Phoenix glances around. “Damn, I need popcorn or something to go with this. Is there a snack bar around here?”
Beckett shoots him a look of such frustration and disdain that Phoenix shrinks back a little—even though he’s still smirking.
“Careful,” Remington says quietly. “Don’t let him get to you.”
For a moment, I think that he’s talking to Beckett about Phoenix, but then the crowd roars as Ford lands another punch, and I realize he’s talking about their brother.
Ford is radiating wrath, and everyone around him is responding to it. Even the other sins, apparently.
The man Ford’s fighting transforms, claws extending, fangs jutting out like he’s got a whole extra set of jaws in his mouth, eyes going yellow. My body goes rigid, my eyes widening.
He’s a werewolf. Not a man at all.
I should have known he would be superhuman in some way, since this is a supernatural underground boxing arena, duh, but I didn’t really think about it.
Werewolves can, or so I’ve heard, transform into full wolves. They usually take that form when they’re roaming around the forest or hunting with their pack. When they’re up against other supernatural creatures, they tend to only transform partway, to take advantage of still having a humanlike build but with the wolf capabilities.
That’s what this guy’s doing right now. He’s all muscle, built like a brick house, and his hands look bigger than my entire face. I flinch as he takes a swipe at Ford. Those claws of his could rip Wrath’s entire face off.