A week in and the men are getting restless. Every village we arrive at on our motorcycles the village elders assure us they have no such problems. “You need to tell them you are Ivan the Inferno. We look just like the gangs,” Cherish suggested after a few fruitless days. “I’m not Ivan the Inferno,” I snapped back at her. “Do the Battalion even know the full details?” she asked as I shook my head. I won’t live my life by that label any more. However late last night even the calculatingly cool Anders suggested we perhaps did not have too big a problem to take care of after all. Cherish had snapped at him, “The person who rats out a gang is the first to be harmed if we fail. They have no reason to trust us yet.” Staring at me afterwards I know she is referring to the Cage. She wants me to beat my chest like an Ape and declare I am the Inferno who brought down the Axelon family. It’s not happening. Jackson and I consulted the maps and decided to head south. He keeps quiet on matter

“Ivan,” I groaned as his hands dove inside my black leggings, growling and nuzzling into my neck at finding me already wet and ready for teasing. “Ivan, we’ve got to head back.” “What if it’s an order,” he growled huskily. My nerves were on a knife edge as he kept his hand inside my underwear, rubbing my soaked clit. His arm wrapped around my waist pushing my ass into his torso. His other hand snaked under my green shirt, immediately teasing my nipples over my bra. Everything was so quick, so ragged and desperate. I knew I had to stay quiet yet I was jerking in pleasure as his coarse, rough fingers quickly plunged inside me. I forced myself to stand up straight, leaning against him with my hand wrapping around his neck. He kept on searching inside me, those thick, rugged fingers knowing exactly which areas left me clamouring to scream. “Ivan,” I whispered shakily as he nipped at my neck. “I’m gonna…ohhhhh,” and he twisted around me to plant his lips on mine. It helped swallow some

Cherish currently has an almost annoying ability to be right about everything. She wasn’t smug about it at least, she just seemed so proud of me. Except handing over those reins, giving her more of a say just gives me flashes of Azalea. All she wanted was to run my life for me, make my decisions without consulting me. I hate myself for pre-judging her but it’s like reopening an old scar. Fuck it, I’ve got to listen to her more. I really do. /Absolutely you do/ Kohl agreed, preening and posing at all the praise they were receiving from the Battalion. As much as I appreciated the men’s support, I wasn’t so keen on their devouring gory details of the fights. I could see how easily people got sucked into watching and gambling on the Showcases. Anders' eyes had a strange glint to them as I tried to describe how we were picked in the draws and then pitted against one another as blandly as possible. Despite his cool, unflappable temperament, I suspected he might prove to be the loose can

As Ivan tried to help, sending hot calming waves of adoration I tried to shake off the creepy feeling under my skin. Jackson took the lead and addressed the group. “We knew some of you wouldn’t be cut out for this. But the rules we kill by are the rules we live by. This is your exit, you can walk away. If like Anders it’s not what you signed up for then I’ll give you your gold and you can leave head held high. Otherwise…you keep in line,” kicking the dense, unmoving body of Anders as his blood stained the gravel and met the rivers flow. “I’m here for the Battalion,” Kharkov said flatly, a chorus which echoed around the men. “Here for the Battalion became a chant, a chorus that soon had every man beating his chest, looking at Ivan with steadfast commitment. He gave a nod, raised his hand and said, “Cherish are you still happy to scout or do you need time to recover?” “We can wait a day,” Jackson offered, followed by grunts of agreement from the rest. Kharkov’s dark brown eyes trained

Kharkovs howls more than did the trick. He even remained on all fours, somehow. Though the very act was twisting an already broken leg he tried to look intimidating. He was an all brown wolf, muscular and chunky in build. As soon as the first wolves out of the compound saw him they would mind-link for back-up. Injured or not he was still formidable. Just two doors of the compound opened as the first batch of men appeared. Confirming he was shifted I saw a rapid succession of clothes ripping and shredding. At least ten bald, hulking guards shifting into various colours of wolf. Like a distorted ballet, a collection of twisting, crunching limbs all came together. All with their jaws snapping, claws scratching at the ground ready to hunt and kill Kharkov. Aided by the darkness of night my Battalion remained unseen. Following their orders to not attack until the third door opened I took deep bracing breaths. However much I prided myself on being a Warrior, this was either going to rea