Page 26 of The Enemy to the Living (The Wild Hunt #2)

Quinn

I don’t know of another way into Mischief that’s becoming painfully obvious.

If I don’t do a good job—just show up but don’t try any harder than that—then they might find some other way to punish me.

They might find some other way to take my wolf.

The troll catches me with an uppercut to the chin, snapping my head back, and I growl and spin away when he goes in to grab me again. We circle each other slowly. Blood thumps in my ears, drowning out the noise from the crowd.

For a second—just one—I feel my wolf again. He stirs, stretches, taking in our prey with a glance and a snap of his teeth.

And then he’s gone again.

I falter but don’t stumble. The troll comes at me, and I duck low, taking him down to the ground. Hands rattle the cage, fae jostling to see as I punch him in the stomach, then the chest.

He groans and taps out, but only when the kelpie opens the cage door do I climb off him and retreat to the other side. “Fuck,” he mutters, hauling himself to his feet.

He waves and smiles—well, grimaces—as he climbs out, and I huff to myself. Maybe he’s just here for the fun of it.

The selkie, Hel, is up next. I push off from the edge of the cage, swallowing hard as she drops her seal skin just behind her. All the selkies do that. I know better than to get too close to it, too—one of the fae did that by accident and the selkie he was fighting almost tore his throat out.

We circle each other. She’s going to be fast. Her claws are already out, and she keeps her stance low.

She’s been watching the other fights, I think, because she moves when I’m least expecting it, claws raking down my side. I hiss and jerk away, blood already marking a hot trail down my skin.

Fuck, she’s quick. I hit her once, sending her back against the cage bars, but then she grazes me again, and the third time, she digs her claws in deep. Blood drips from the wounds and when I sway slightly, her eyes darken.

The claws are gone now as she moves to blows and sends me sprawling. I groan, air knocked out of my lungs as my back hits the ground. Fucking hell. She hits me again, but I’m already done.

“And we have our winner,” the kelpie cries.

The selkie steps back, arms raised in the air in victory, and I groan again as I get to my feet.

Nine turns in the cage. Well, eight, plus the so-called freebie I got the night the twins took Bryn’s wolf.

Just one more, and I’m free of this place.

I drag myself into the back room, where the troll is sitting on one of the benches. He grins when he sees me.

“Great fight.”

I only grunt in response, but he doesn’t seem to take offence; compared to his attitude when I was in here earlier, he’s cheered up some.

“I meant to thank you… for before. Sorry I ran off on you.”

I say nothing and he takes a breath, gives me another grin.

“We should prepare something next time. You know, if we go up against each other again.”

I walk over to the sink in the corner and start washing the blood off my skin. The scratches have clotted, but they won’t heal for a little while—no matter what I felt inside the cage.

And I’m still reeling about that, too. I can’t dwell on it now. That’s for later. For when I’m back at the flat, maybe, or—

I jerk my head up. The door! The door is there, the one I went through the first night. I snatch up my T-shirt and pull it on, then shrug on my jacket.

“What do you think?” the troll asks. “About next time?”

Another fight. Fighting him didn’t give me the same violent catharsis as the others, but it was—

Fun. It was fun.

“Yeah, okay,” I say, though I know if the Hunt is watching this place, it won’t be long before things really change.

“Cool.” He says nothing when I open the door at the back of the room. I poke my head out and look—it leads to a different alley, like last time, so I sneak out of that and down to the street.

Asher might not be out front, but I’m not betting on him not being there, not after earlier. I can’t see him. I need somewhere quiet, somewhere I can be alone.

It doesn’t take me long to find it. I find a park a few streets away and vault easily over the low fence, letting out a sigh when I settle in the grass. Drew goes out running a couple of times a week, I think, and has started taking Dax with him.

I might not have my wolf, but I still need nature. I lie back, breathing in the scent of it.

What made him wake now? My eyes drift shut, and I replay the fight in my mind. We were circling each other. I knew how to take him down. I could see it. He’s fae, sure, but in that moment, he was mine , my prey, my—

My wolf stirs again. I inhale a ragged breath, squeezing my eyes even more firmly shut. Come on. I’m here.

Asher’s face flashes into my mind, and unlike in the cage, my wolf doesn’t slink away. He’s not close—not nearly close enough for me to even think about shifting, but that doesn’t matter. I can’t breathe for the joy bubbling up in my chest.

I think of Asher again, of waking up to his face close to mine, of the way he hesitated when I kissed him.

I think of his nervous question earlier tonight and smile, even if the feeling is bittersweet, because that really is what he was worried about, wasn’t it?

My wolf sniffs the air and I know he’s going to leave again, but for the first time in months , I feel truly whole.