Each order was uniquely different, yet they were all gargoyle shifters who’d taken on robes of flesh as part of The Eden Foundation’s Next Genesis Project. The Phoenixes were artisans. The Dragons were bikers. Gryphons were former soldiers now in private security, and the Sphinxes were thrill seekers who competed in motorsports.
The Dragons were staying at the Citadel. Members of The Order of the Gryphons and The Order of the Sphinxes had rented a house to stay in. Tonight, after the fight, everyone was invited to a party they were hosting. From the sounds of it, they planned to have female shifters there, groupies who enjoyed watching them battle in the ring and kissing their bruises when they were done.
The Citadel’s fighters left ahead of everyone else. Zac and Aiden had an appointment tonight. Emmett, Theo, Elijah, and Gael were staying behind to keep the Citadel manned and the property secure. The eight who were going were divided into two Jeeps. Stone rode with Tobias, Malik, and Iosefa. Quake, Mason, and Rock rode with the Persian poet, Zana.
They arrived at the hangar-sized building forty-five minutes early. Stone and Mason found their seats. Quake and Rock made their way to the back, waiting with the competitors for their turns in the ring. An official reminded them that no one was permitted to shift due to a mixed crowd of spectators, the humans and supernaturals who always found their way to these events.
“Pesky humans,” Quake growled.
“Damned jackals,” Rock retorted. “Look.”
Quake didn’t recognize their faces, but sure as shit, there were Death’s Head MC bikers in the bunch. One of them was gracious enough to slap the male fighter he had with him, affording them a look at his cut. The Tempe, Arizona, chapter had come a long way to be here. They’d brought two fighters with them, a lean, mean dark-haired young woman and a welterweight male who resembled her, probably from the same pack, possibly the same litter.
The two wolf shifters were wearing collars. Quake couldn’t tell if they were there by choice or by force.
Knowing the Death’s Head MC, it could be either.
He studied them warily, noting how docile and submissive they were. Something wasn’t right about them. Why would wolves be fighting for jackals? They should be handled by shifters who shared their values, not lowering themselves associating with scum.
Their situation became clear when the boy got in the ring with a bear shifter. He took a beating. The girl barely reacted, showing no sign of worry or emotional response when he got his arm broken and kept on fighting.
Mason was pissed. With their supersensitive hearing, they could hear him above the crowd. “He’s doped,” he snarled from his seat beside the ring. “No way is he not hurting from an injury like that. That’s fucking illegal.”
The protests grew but the referees let the injured fighter continue.
“Fuck this,” Mason growled. Bolting out of his seat, he roared, “Stop the fight! Can’t you see he’s doped?”
All hell broke loose. The crowd turned ugly, demanding that the fight be forfeited to the bear. The official who stopped the fight ordered the wolf boy out of the ring, directing him to the back where a medic was standing by.
The Death’s Head jackals were pissed that they’d lost their purse. They were doubly pissed when they had to wait for the kid’s arm to be set before they’d release him into their custody.
His sister just sat there, numb to it all.
The jackals shot daggers at Mason, mumbling about revenge and swearing to get even. Quake knew from experience they weren’t about to let it go. He could feel trouble brewing. He didn’t think the jackals would risk trying something in here with witnesses, but they would need to watch their backs on the way out.
As soon as the referee got the crowd under control, two new fighters squared off against each other. Rock went four rounds before pinning his lion shifter opponent to the mat.
Quake was pitted against a wolverine who went down in the first round. Lukas from The Order of the Phoenix, a local favorite, fought next to last. Five rounds with a vicious badger shifter left both fighters bruised and bloodied, but the decision went to Lukas.
The last match paired one of the Order of the Sphinxes against their brother in the Order of the Gryphons. The gargoyles were nearly equally matched. The Gryphon was faster and better at reading openings, but the Sphinx had the strength and endurance needed to withstand the punishment he was dealing out. Exchanging blow after blow, they pounded away at each other, not stopping until the final bell was rung. In the end, the win was awarded to the Gryphon.
The crowd erupted, some cheering, some booing, as split as the judges’ decision.
This venue was well-organized, paying out after each fight. Free to leave as soon as the last match was over, Quake and Rock rendezvoused with their group and headed for the door. Turning on his cell phone, Quake checked to see if he’d had any response to his last text to Magenta, wishing her a Happy Thanksgiving tomorrow.
Halfway to the exit, Tobias halted his steps with his phone pressed to his ear while he listened to a voicemail. Before it ended, he had tossed a set of keys to Stone and his crew. “Take the jeep.”
The local cadre’s superior looked at his men, his expression grim. “We’ve got to fly. Back to the Citadel, now!”
“What’s happened?” Stone questioned with a frown.
“There’s been a fire,” Tobias clipped, already moving for the exit, stripping off his shirt as he went. The rest of the Phoenixes followed suit.
“We’ll be right behind you,” Stone called before turning to his men. “Get your shit together. We’ll drive back and help them out.”
Quake wondered what the hell had happened at the Citadel to cause such a thing. Grabbing their gear, he and Rock rejoined the others and made
