Alpha Asher
Chapter 129

I spun around, nearly bumping into the narrow chest of some man. He placed a hand against the front of the dress shirt he wore, drawing my attention to the rings speckled on his fingers. There were a few on his other hand, which clinked against the glass of alcohol in his hand. There was a big part of me-and Maya that felt infuriated being called 'little she-wolf.' We were proud of our title, both of them. We had bled and fought to claim them both, even if they weren't what we wanted at first. It went against my instincts to hide my position-especially to another werewolf. "She's good. I can get her whatever she needs, thanks." I wouldn't say I was relieved to hear Brandon's voice, but it did make me feel better that I wouldn't have to chase this guy off myself.

Unfortunately, whenever you mixed alcohol, anger issues, and copious amounts of testosterone, you were left with a person that couldn't take no for an answer.

The stranger lifted one of his dark eyebrows but never once took his eyes off of Brandon as he asked, "this guy bothering you?"

"She just punched me in the gut hard enough to make me puke, which I would've done if I weren't the son of an Alpha." Instead of becoming defensive, Brandon grinned. "Now she can either punch you in your bird chest, or you can walk away and try your luck with some other unfortunate soul."

"I don't need you to defend me." I told Brandon once the drunk stranger stumbled away, muttering under his breath about ' snobby s***s and their boyfriends'

Brandon groaned like a child, "you're as boring as Asher."

"I'm boring? I'm sorry I don't live to entertain your immature a*s." I snapped, lowering my voice to a hiss when a few nearby women glanced my way. "By chance, what do you replace fun, Brandon? Is it kidnapping people in the middle of the night to take them out of pack boundaries knowing said person has vampires and witches after them?!"

"You want to know what I replace fun?" He snickered, meeting my eyes for a second before focusing on something further back in the club. When a flash of recognition sparked in his eyes, I spun around.

I could see the back wall of the club in between the sea of dancing bodies, and the roped off area labeled as "VIP." Right next to that section was an unassuming door that read "Restricted - Employee's Only." There was another cluster of circular stages back that way, larger than the others in the club. Where the others had three women dancing, this one had six.

One of those six was a girl not much older than me, with thick thighs, tanned skin, and wildly curly hair. The golden body glitter across her shoulders and b***s didn't twinkle as much as the others because she had stopped dancing to stare Brandon's way. Maya's ears perked with interest when the dancer's wide brown eyes darted down to us. Even with the flashing lights that changed color every few seconds, I could see this girl visibly pale.

She stepped off the stage and beelined towards two human bouncers talking just five feet away.

"Is that your friend?" I asked without looking away from the girl. "She's looking at me like she knows me."

"Yeah, that's her..." Brandon frowned, just as confused as I.

When the two bouncers leaning against the wall looked at us and started walking our way, giving Brandon's friend the chance she needed to slip through the employees only door, I knew I needed to act fast. "Lola, what are you-"

"She knows something," was all I said before I kicked off into a run.

People were already veering out of the way, spotting the two meat-head bouncers before seeing my whopping five-foot three-inch self.

The only thing I had learned from those fake friends I ditched Breyona for was how to walk, run, and sprint in a pair of stilettos. Out of all the things I'd been trained in, this was one I didn't think I'd be using.

I could hear Brandon keeping up behind me, but it wasn't him who'd hit the bouncers first. Just by looking at them, I could almost anticipate their moves.

The one with the larger arms would try to grab me, thinking I'd be easy to subdue because of my small frame. The other, whose arms were longer and muscle more dispersed, would snatch me up if I managed to get away from the first one.

I remembered my favorite of Chris's training lessons and let the fond memory float to the surface of my mind. He had taught me to keep an eye on my surroundings, that too many warriors make the mistake of relying on their muscle and skill, when there's so many other ways to wir a battle.

A group of already drunken men booed and groaned when I snatched a full pitcher of beer off their table, all without breaking my stride.

The strong-smelling alcohol didn't have time to drench my hand, because I was already hurling it at the beefy one's face.

A painful crack was heard, followed by an explosion of ice and beer. I avoided his flailing grasp and kicked the other as hard as I could in the b***s, ducking when he swung that long arm out at me.

In the chaos of it all, I swore I could hear Brandon laughing.

As I'd hoped, his fist missed me and collided into his coworker's face. It bought me just enough time to sprint past the two of them, through the employee door Brandon's friend had vanished behind.

There was no time to stop, so I had no choice but to take in my surroundings as quickly as possible. With Brandon right behind me, we darted into the employee's only section, which happened to be a narrow hallway that ended with a sharp left turn.

There were girls giggling back here, and men talking over up-beat music. The sound trickled down the hallway, coming from all directions.

I followed my gut and darted down the hall, knowing that checking every single room would only slow us down and waste precious seconds.

Almost all of them had signs that read "available" or "occupied". The ones whose sign was flipped to "occupied" had several sounds and scents emerging from beneath the doors, all of which I ignored.

We took that lefthand turn just as the door we had come through burst open. I could hear their heavy footfalls and knew there were too many for Brandon and I to take on in a fight.

There were only single doors lining the hallways, but up ahead there was a set of two. Both were open, pinned against the wall so that music and laughter spilled out. We made another sharp turn and darted into the room.

A circular table larger than the bar in the club sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by expensive white leather booths.

There had to be at least twenty different men, and nearly the same number of dancers. Glasses of wine and beer littered the table, along with money and bottles of expensive champagne.

I didn't pay attention to what the dancers were doing, or how some of them weren't really dancing at all. All I cared about was the set of doors farthest to us, and the sign that read 'dancer dressing-rooms.' The thundering sound of feet were growing closer, so much that I could hear a few of their gruff voices.

Without hesitation, I beelined straight for the doors. The circular table wasn't very tall, which made it all too easy to leap onto it to continue running.

The drunk men not groping and tasting the dancers complained, cursing as they pulled their wads of money and bottles of alcohol away. For good measure, I sent a few of those expensive champagne bottles flying their way with a little kick from the toe of my stiletto. "...you're f****g crazy..." Brandon huffed, laughing as he hopped off the table behind me and followed as I raced towards the dancer's dressing rooms.

This hallway was identical to the one we had just come from, only the doors that lined the walls had plaques with names printed on them.

"What's her name?" I hissed quietly, slowing to scan each name, all while keeping my ears peeled for the approaching bouncers. "Clara."

Either Brandon's witch friend was confident in her abilities, or she actually thought we wouldn't go chasing after her, because the door to her dressing room was cracked open. I could hear her in there, rummaging through something as she spoke quietly under her breath. I crept up to the door, staying flat against it as I turned my head and peeked inside. Not only was her back to the door, but she was crouched and digging through a leather trunk. Something sparkly in her hand caught my eye, a slinky dress she shoved into the suitcase at her feet, shoved onto the small pile of clothes she hastily packed.

If she was anything like the witch that broke into my house, or made me c***h Asher's car, I knew that I'd only have one chance at this.

Barreling through the doors with my hackles raised would give her too much time to react. Instead I slipped inside, taking care not to open the door anymore than it already was. I wasn't much closer, but it was enough.

She heard the creak as Brandon tried slipping through the door, I could tell in the way her shoulders tensed. The moment she went to stand, I lunged at her.

The girl must've had no form of self-defensive training because her only plan of action was the little baggy of purple powder in her hand.

It coated her fingertips from where she had tried to pinch some. I wasn't sure what it was, a weapon or some kind of defense, but I disarmed her the way I would any other opponent and sent the cloth baggy tumbling to the floor.

"You..." I took a deep breath, hating myself for skipping so many training sessions. She flinched, uncomfortable with the sharpened points of my claws against her carotid artery "...are just who we were looking for, Clara."