Running with Rogues

CHAPTER 32 - TURN FOR THE WORST

He choked on thin air. "All that for a five-minute nap?"

"Yes, and I'd do worse."

I couldn't help smiling, but it faded quick enough when the Delta whistled to get everyone's attention.

"Now, boys. The takedowns we practiced yesterday ... do you all remember them?" he asked. There was a series of very unconvincing nods from the fighters. "No? Demonstrate for us, Mr Driscoll."

Will stepped forwards, as did a man in his late thirties. The man threw a lazy punch at Will, which was quickly knocked wide. Will then caught hold of his opponent's wrist. He twisted the man's arm in the wrong direction and used the momentum to throw him onto the ground.

There was an audible thump as he hit the ground, and I was close enough to hear him swearing under his breath. I felt my arm groaning a complaint — it remembered that wrenching feeling well enough.

I recognised the technique. I'd done it myself on many occasions. But we didn't stand around and practice 'moves' like a bunch of nerds. We just scrapped with each other and learnt what worked and what didn't the old-fashioned way.

"Good," the Delta said. "It's rough, isn't it? That's because it's meant for the rogues. If you dislocate a shoulder in the process, nobody's going to give a shit. But if you have to restrain a pack member for any reason, you're going to want a gentler method. I'll demonstrate with Miss Hayes now."

I stood there, staring off into space like an idiot while I waited for 'Miss Hayes' to make an appearance. It was only when Liam gave me a firm nudge forwards that I remembered his fake surname.

I dragged my feet a bit on the way over. The Delta was waiting for me with a wonky grin on his face. Stevens. That was his name. I remembered now, and I tried to stick it somewhere more permanent in my mind.

He put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. He was going for an arm-lock of some sort, I was pretty sure, but his hands were underneath my hoodie, and that gave me pause. Not least because they were cold and rain-soaked.

One of his hands roamed higher and came to rest somewhere it definitely shouldn't have been. For a split second, I hoped it had been an accident. I hoped he wasn't seriously groping me in front of twenty other people, my 'mate' included, and thinking he would get away with it.

But then he started fumbling around, and I had to resist the urge to turn around and knock his teeth out. If I was back at camp, I'd have done it. Without a second's hesitation, without thinking twice. But I wasn't at camp, was I? Liam could take a swing at him, but he'd certainly swing back, and I didn't want that.

I was beginning to understand why flockie girls kept their mouths shut about this shit. It felt easier to just pretend it wasn't happening than face all the consequences that came with speaking up.

The plan I cooked up in the span of a second was half-baked and not ideal, but it was better than just standing there and letting him get away with it. So I let out a little squeal and jumped away from him, retreating a few paces.

"Wasp," I said by way of explanation. "I saw a wasp. Oh, Goddess. I can't."

"I didn't see anything," Stevens muttered. "Come back, and I'll finish the—"

Plan B. I leant over and swatted at him. Not gently, either. I caught him around the ear, and I broke into a relieved smile even as he scowled at me. "Hm. Think I got it. But there could be more, so yeah. Sorry. I'm out."

And with that, I made a tactful retreat to where Liam was standing. I put my back against his chest, and he put his arms around me. I was safe, and I was warm. The other guys were throwing us disdainful looks and muttering under their breaths, but they were probably just jealous. Their own mates were still at work.