Chapter 2
Friday morning, Brin Mercer rolled over on the top bunk and stared at the ceiling. He and his brothers had been living in the camper for the last two months, since they’d been kicked out of their apartment. The owner hadn’t realized they were shifters and, once he’d figured it out, had evicted them. They’d used a chunk of the money from their father’s life insurance to buy the camper and settle on a stretch of cleared land in the mountains of Pennsylvania, on the banks of a slow-moving river. A few miles away was a campground run by a hyena baro, but he and his brothers weren’t in their territory and hadn’t wanted to be around their own kind anyway.
He and his two older brothers – Quill and Ian - worked for a construction company. The work was steady, and would carry them through the late fall when the snow came and they’d be laid off for the season. He was certain that they could find other temporary work for the winter, but he really hoped they weren’t still living in the camper by then.
Ian, who was sleeping on the bottom bunk in the smaller of the two bedrooms, groaned. “Fucking camper.”
Brin grinned and leaned over the edge to see him. “I was just thinking that myself.”
Ian rolled off the bed and stretched.
Quill, who was staying in the larger bedroom, stopped in the doorway. “It’s better than a tent.”
“We need to figure something out before winter comes,” Brin said.
“Yeah,” Quill said. “I guess the question is whether we like this area, or whether we’re voting to move on to somewhere else.”
“Could we live in Hawaii? No winter.” Brin said.
Ian snorted. “You have to be realistic.”
Quill shook his head. “I’m all for staying here, but it’s up to you guys.”
“We should’ve just found another apartment in the first place,” Brin said as he sat up, ducking his head so he didn’t whack it on the low ceiling. He jumped down, the camper shaking as he landed.
“We didn’t have jobs at the time,” Quill pointed out. “Besides, we’d been talking about just moving around and not staying anywhere permanent. The only reason we stayed here was because the pay is so good with the construction company.”
Ian grabbed clothes from the tiny closet and said, “I’m fine with staying, but I’m not fine with living in this cramped space any longer than necessary.”
Ian scooted by Quill and walked into the bathroom, and Brin looked at his oldest brother. As hyena shifters, they were a clan. Normally, clans stayed in family groups and called themselves a baro. But their parents had never been in a baro. Their mother and two of their fathers had died when they were young. He couldn’t really remember much about his other parents; he’d been just a toddler when they died, leaving Davion to raise three young boys on his own.
“Do you think we have family anywhere?” Brin asked.
Quill’s brows rose. “I don’t think so, why?”
“I was just thinking about being in a baro.”
“I know that both sets of grandparents died before we were born, but mom’s parents were humans so they didn’t have a baro. If our dads had other relatives, they weren’t in touch with them. I never found any evidence in Dad’s things.”
Brin grabbed his jeans from the floor and tugged them on. “I’ll get breakfast going.”
As he passed by Quill, his brother put a hand on his arm. “I don’t think it matters if we have a baro or not. We’re family, and that should be enough.”
“It is. I just wonder sometimes about what life is like for other clans.”
“Me, too.”
Brin headed to the small kitchen, where he removed a carton of eggs from the refrigerator. Hyena clans traditionally had three males, each with a specific responsibility within the group. As eldest, Quill was their leader. Although he always asked for input before making decisions, ultimately he was the one responsible for their welfare. He’d just turned thirty-one in July. Ian, the middle child, was a year younger than Quill and was their family protector. He was a large male, who prided himself on being a great fighter and strong enough to protect their family against anything. Not that they were getting into wars frequently, of course, but in the role of protector, Ian had to ensure that everyone was safe. Not only his brothers, but also their future mate and any cubs they might have.
Which left Brin as the youngest. His twenty-ninth birthday was coming up soon, and even though he wasn’t a kid anymore, he was totally going to make his birthday wish that they find their truemate.
Brin was their family’s caretaker. He made sure that Ian didn’t train so hard that he forgot to eat, and that Quill never had to worry about food or clean clothes. When they found their mate, Brin would take care of her, too, making sure she was happy.
Wherever she was, he hoped she knew that they were waiting for her.
* * *
Quill had spent the day thinking about Brin’s question. He was certain that they didn’t have any family, but he knew that both his brothers were getting tired of the solitary life. They worked their asses off fifteen hours a day, and then they crashed in the camper. It wasn’t exactly a stellar existence, and it wasn’t how he’d pictured his early thirties.
They’d been told as young boys that it was the duty of the hyena parents to choose the mate for their sons, and their father, Davion, had picked a hyena female named Dawn. They were too young to understand what had really happened – that Davion had kidnapped the young hyena and then been double-crossed by those who held her. Quill and his brothers had crossed the country several times looking for Dawn, hoping to find her at a gathering. When they found her last November, the truth had come out – females chose their own mates, and Davion had nearly destroyed that young woman’s life by taking her from her biological family. He’d died because he tried to abduct the female again, and she’d shifted and attacked him. It was as he was dying that he’d told his sons the truth. Their entire lives had been a lie created by a grieving male. Dawn, who went by the name Whisper, had forgiven him and his brothers for their roles in her terror, but it had changed all of them.
Brin was sad; he missed their dad. Quill found himself doubting every decision he made. He wanted to be a good leader, but he didn’t have a whole lot of experience with it, and he didn’t remember much of their eldest father. Ian had shut down for a long while, not showing any emotion at all. He was starting to come out of his shell a little, but Quill knew that they all carried deep wounds from their father’s deception. Not to mention that for the last six weeks or so, every Friday and Saturday night, Ian had been leaving after Brin and Quill were in bed, and not returning until close to dawn. Sometimes he had cuts and bruises. When asked, he was cagey, and so they’d stopped asking. Whatever was going on with Ian, Quill knew he’d talk to them when he was ready and not a second before.
Owen, the foreman, came over with their paychecks. “Some of the guys are going to a bar to play pool. You and your brothers in?”
His immediate reaction was to say no, but he thought better of it. “Sounds good.”
“We’re going to O’Shay’s.”
“See you in a few.”
“Did I just hear that right?” Brin asked as he took his paycheck from Owen.
“We should go,” Quill said. “I think it would be good for us to do something other than hang out in the camper.”
Ian looked at Quill in silence.
“I’m the leader,” Quill said.
“I know,” Ian said.
“Good. It’s Friday night. Let’s go shoot some pool. Maybe one of these guys knows of a rental in the area so we can put the camper in storage.”
“We could sell it,” Brin suggested as they put their equipment away and headed to the truck they shared.
“I was thinking we’d keep it. Maybe when we find our mate, she’ll like camping and it’s something we can do as a family,” Quill suggested.
“As long as we can have a real home at some point, I’m game,” Brin said.
Ian drove, his gaze riveted to the windshield. “That okay with you, man?” Quill asked.
“You’re the boss.”
“I know. You just seem a little tightly wound lately.”
Ian parked in the bar’s lot and turned off the engine. He continued to stare straight ahead as he spoke. “I’m going to go for a walk. I’ll meet you back at the camper later on.”
“Are you okay?” Brin asked.
Pulling the keys from the ignition, Ian handed them to Quill and said, “I’ll see you later.”
He got out and shut the door, leaving Quill and Brin alone.
“Should we go after him?” Brin asked.
It went against Quill’s instincts to leave his brother alone when he was so clearly going through something, but he didn’t want to crowd him. “No. He said he’d meet us at home, so he will. If he wants to talk, he knows where to find us.”
“Do you think it’s about Dad?” Brin’s voice was a low whisper. It was as if even saying the word ‘dad’ was too much bad juju sometimes, because of how unhinged he’d become at the end.
“I really don’t know. Whatever it is, Ian knows where we are.”
“Right. I’m about to kick your butt at pool.”
“Hardly, little bro,” Quill said. “If you beat me, I’ll do all our laundry for a week.”
“Oh, now I totally have to win.”
They headed into the bar to see who was better at pool. Quill was certain it was him, but he might let Brin win just to keep his mind off their distant brother.
Maybe.
* * *
Ian strode slowly down the street until he saw his brothers head into the bar. Then he circled back and grabbed a duffel from the back of the truck. Slinging it over his shoulder, he double-timed it to the woods next to the bar and cut across town to the place he’d been going two nights a week for the last month and a half. It appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, but if someone was paying attention, they’d see the vehicles parked in the intentionally dark parking lot behind the enormous building. When he reached the building, he skirted along one side to the back, where two large males stood in the shadows, guarding a steel door.
“You’re here early,” Cley said. His meaty forearms were crossed over his chest, and his gaze missed nothing as he eyed Ian.
“Work ran late and I was over this way, so just came here.”
Sandren snorted. “Don’t you make more here in a couple hours than you do a full day in the hot-ass sun?”
“I can’t exactly claim this money on my taxes or get health insurance with it,” Ian said dryly. The money was good, but it wasn’t quit-your-job good. Especially when he hadn’t explained to his brothers why he left in the middle of the night twice a week. How could he tell them about the underground were-fights when he didn’t really understand why he was doing them himself?
The fights, which took place in the basement of the warehouse, had been started by a rogue wolf who had a penchant for watching shifters and other paranormal creatures beat each other all to hell. Wallace was a shrewd businessman who made very good money off the fights, not only taking a cut of the winnings but also a piece of the betting action. Normally Ian didn’t show up until midnight, but fighting started at sundown, with new and younger males fighting to move up in the ranks and make it to the bigger fights.
There was only one rule, which was that no one intentionally killed their opponent. The fights, especially at the higher levels with the more aggressive males, could easily end with someone dead or seriously injured. Wallace had several bodyguard types watching the fights to try to keep them from getting deadly, but shit happened from time to time. Ian had never killed anyone, and he was currently one of the best fighters. The male to beat, as Wallace liked to boast.
Sandren opened the door. Darkness greeted Ian as he stepped inside. The door was shut behind him, and as the latch clicked an overhead light turned on, adding a sickly amber glow to the area immediately around him. To the right was a closed door. A small male was seated on a stool next to it, smoking a cigarette. He was some sort of fae, with wings that weren’t quite straight because they’d been broken and healed wrong. He looked easygoing, but Ian had witnessed the male use a sword during a skirmish outside of the building once. He’d proven that size wasn’t really a good indicator of how dangerous a person was.
“Early,” Teun said, taking a long drag on his menthol and blowing the smoke into intricate rings over his head.
“Yeah. Busy?”
“As usual.” He opened the door. “Good luck.”
Ian nodded as he passed by the male, trying not to wrinkle his nose at the cigarette smoke. His beast wasn’t crazy about this place, and Ian wasn’t too fond of it either.
The fighting took his mind off things better left alone. After he’d realized what his father had done, and before he’d started fighting, he’d battled insomnia. As the protector, Ian was ashamed that he hadn’t questioned their father’s behavior earlier, but he’d loved his dad and trusted him. When the truth came out, it had all suddenly seemed so clear. He’d wondered why he missed the clues that had spoken of Davion’s descent into obsessive madness.
Which he hoped to fuck wasn’t hereditary.
He moved down the concrete steps, the scent of testosterone and blood hanging heavy in the air. As he reached the bottom, he heard a thud and a cracking sound, followed by a cheer. He suspected someone had broken something and the spectators enjoyed it. Ian didn’t know why, but there was an almost cult-like following for the fights. Humans, shifters, and others watched eagerly and bet heavily. Since shifters couldn’t participate in legitimate leagues, illegal underground ones like Wallace’s were all over the world. They gave weres an outlet for rage and tension, and the fans something to cheer for.
He stopped and looked for Wallace, finding the male in a glass booth overlooking the main ring. Next to the owner stood a male who was easily one of the biggest Ian had ever seen. Axtyn had been a fighter before Ian joined, but something had happened to him and he’d been banned from the ring, relegated to being Wallace’s bodyguard instead. He was a shifter of some unique sort that no one would talk about. Ian had never exchanged more than a few words with Axtyn, but he’d heard enough about him to think of him as a powder keg that just needed a match to blow everything to hell.
Wallace spotted him and Ian nodded in greeting, then walked to a prep area in one corner and set his bag down. While he changed into shorts and nothing else, he pushed away thoughts of anything except the fights ahead of him. He wasn’t going to think about finding a mate to share with his brothers, or starting a family, even though those thoughts had been invading his mind more frequently lately. He was going to focus on the fights, and winning, so he could prove to himself that he was the best fighter and therefore the best protector for his clan. He’d let his brothers down by not being more vigilant – and there was no better school for learning vigilance than an illegal were-fight, where his opponents could and would do anything to win.
Later, he’d think about a mate.
But right now all he was thinking about was blood.