Mitch Match の小説・ストーリー

SUMMER I watched Mitch as he told them the reasons for the meeting, his voice carrying out through the hall. The people in the room all had their attention fixed on him as if they might miss something important if they didn't do that. “Mitch sure missed his calling. He would have done well as a newscaster,” Miles leaned close to whisper, mocking Mitch, knowing he could hear him. I shot a glare at him, and he shut up very fast, sitting up as he focused on Mitch, looking like a well-behaved kid. I hid the smile on my face. Knowing I had such powers over my mates always gave me this intense joy.

Lock me up any way you want. Mitch shook his head. ‘I don’t need you to help me.’ Then he moved in fast, trying to take Bobby down with a leg sweep. He knew some martial arts, just enough to get himself into trouble, because instead of trying to get away, Bobby stepped in toward Mitch, ducking, turning and grabbing Mitch’s arm, slamming his butt up into Mitch’s waist, hoisting the big guy up and then tossing him over. Mitch landed hard and was stunned by the impact. Maybe he’d never been tossed that hard before. Bobby had to stop himself from rushing in and finishing him off. He wanted to keep this going for a little bit. He really did like throwing big guys around.

Usually, the sound of pucks thudding against the boards calms me. Today, it felt like someone dragging nails down my spine. I tied my black apron, yanked my hair into a knot, and fired up the espresso machine. Above the counter, the TV was muted, captions rolling over a face I knew too well. Darin Salvator. Black hair, ice-blue eyes, and a jawline that could cut glass. He was Aiden’s uncle, the pack’s pro-athlete disaster. The headline crawling across the screen made me huff a laugh: ‘PLAYBOY PRO CAUGHT IN CLUB BRAWL—REBELS AGAINST PACK TRADITION.’

“If they wanted to I doubt your pretty ass would be here” “Geez, thanks Ivy, that was really encouraging,” I said with sarcasm laced in my tone. “But there is one rule they can't change,” Ivy said. “And that is…..” “The matchmaking system. It has been here for years, and I think you being matched to them is actually a blessing in disguise” “Is that what they call ‘death sentence’ now?” I asked and Ivy laughed. “You are basically matched with two of the most powerful alphas, and doing anything to harm you is going against the matchmaking system, so they have no other option than to accept it, which means you are safe” Ivy explained more.

My adrenaline was sky-high, and I was pissed that I’d turned my back on the fourth guy. “Hey, I’m Whitman,” one of the fighters said, and sat on a chair in the corner. I turned toward him and held my hand out. “Kai.” We shook hands, and he smiled. “Who are you up against?” he asked me, as I placed my phone and wallet in the locker. “Some guy named Falcon,” I said. “And you?” “Falcon?” he asked me, with big eyes. “Do you know him?” “He’s some crazy guy from Montana. He’s been overseas and hasn’t lost a fight yet,” he said, and I smiled.

“Yeah, I go to the Alps every year. My parents own a house there.” “So, a true professional then,” I laugh lightly, but it sounds hollow even to me. “Not as good as Connor!” Brent shouts from his seat beside Ryker, his voice cutting through the chatter. Connor grins, pointing his knife at Mitch. “Yeah, I could race you too.” He lifts his brow, challenging. The table erupts in laughter, Mitch included, and I realize this is the first time he’s really joined in with the group. “You’ll have to beat Mr. Adkins first," Mitch says smoothly, “then I’ll race the winner.”

Even Mitchell himself was beaten up so badly that he had bruises all over his face. At that moment, he was pathetically kneeling on the ground and looked utterly miserable. He had only realized that he'd met a tough opponent the moment he was punched. His opponent was not afraid of violence at all, nor did they care when he begged for mercy! Helpless, Mitchell could only call his Helen for help. Meanwhile, outside of the bar, more than a dozen cars had driven over from different directions. "Ms. Helen, this is Mr. Micah Stone. He's a master-level expert. Mason went to great lengths to invite him over from another state just recently," Clement pointed to a middle-aged man with a squarish face

I demanded, my tone sharp. Mitch hesitated, his eyes darting around nervously. "It's...complicated," he muttered, clearly unwilling to meet my gaze. "I had to find a way to sneak out of Aiden Blackwood's camp without being noticed." I clenched my jaw, fighting to keep my temper in check. "Complicated?" I repeated, my voice low and dangerous. "I don't have time for your excuses, Mitch. You either have something for me, or you don't."

Lucille mind-linked nervously. “Let’s talk outside,” Mitch said smoothly, motioning Louis to follow. The three stepped out into the night air. Mitch extended a firm hand toward Louis. “I’m Mitchell Jones. Your sister’s mate. Pleased to meet you.” Louis froze for a moment. His palms were damp. Slowly, he extended his trembling hand to meet Mitch’s. “Louis Clinton,” he said shakily. “Pleased to meet you, Lord Mitch.” “Mitchell,” Mitch corrected gently. “Just Mitchell is perfect.”