MONTHS EARLIER

Danger slithers along the outskirts of the room, whispering dark desires to susceptible patrons.

I sit against the bar, my hands folded delicately in front of me, hood pulled up to cover my hair and low to shield my eyes.

At a normal bar, the look would raise suspicion, but here? Here I blend in.

Cheer erupts across the crowd as the glass door slides open, a small body entering the glass box, knuckles dusted with cuts and hands wrapped in a dirty strip of cloth.

The girl stands still in the face of her opponent, back straight, her green gaze cutting through the mans.

I watch my sister lift a hand to her lips, her face so much older then I remember it being.

When her hand drops, her opponent charges. His bulky body wraps around hers but Noah uses it to her advantage, moving swiftly on nimble feet, her eyes tracking his movements.

My heart climbs it's way slowly up my throat as I watch the fight, watch the child I walked away from fight for her own survival.

I swallow the anxiety filling me, feeling the sweat begin at my nape as the first spray of blood splatters the glass wall, Noah's face already swelling.

I drum my fingers on the tabletop, counting down the minutes.

• • •

I slip from the stool as her body moves through the crowd, a grin on her split lips, blood coating her chin.

Her small body looks frail close up, collarbones protruding form bruised flesh, her cheeks gaunt.

I step in dorky of her when she moves beside me, her green eyes flicking up to mine, surprise then betrayal crossing her delicate features. 

"Noah." I hold out a hand before dropping it, watching as she takes a step back.

Her lips lift in a snarl, green eyes darkening. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you."

Noah face twists into a scowl, and she spits at my feet, her fourteen year old body shaking with unspent rage.

"I don't want to see you." She snarls. "Fuck off, right back to where you came from."

I lift a hand, reaching for her. "Noah-"

She wrenches back, gritted teeth bared, blood stained. "You left." She mutters harshly. "You are the one that left. You don't get to come back into my life."

I scoff, looking around the less then perfect establishment we're in. "This life you've built for yourself is a tragedy, Noah. You don't want this for yourself."

"You don't know what I want!" She hisses. "You lost the privilege of knowing when you left me behind. When you ran off."

"I came back." I whisper, thinking of that day all those years again when I'd gone back for her but she wasn't there anymore. And neither was our father.

"You were too late." Noah says what I'm thinking, her expression fierce. "So just leave me alone."

"I can care for you now. I have the funds. The means to look after you where I didn't before."

"Keep your fucking money." She snarls, stepping back and walking around me. "I have my own now. Jackson has given me a job, he is the one that put a roof over my head." 

I blink at the name, shaking my head. "Noah, you don't want to get involved with them. You will ruin your life."

"Like you ruined mine when you left? I have nothing to lose. They have given me everything, Jackson was there when you weren't, he cares for me."

"He doesn't." I mutter, "Trust me, Noah. I know."

"I don't trust a word out of your mouth."

"I left that life behind for a reason, Noah. The Coyotes are bad news."

"They're my family." She mutters.

"All they will do is hurt you, Noah. They will use you." 

"Yeah, we'll at-least they won't walk away." She snaps, her hard gaze connecting to mine.

It's hard to think this harsh girl is the same nine year old I'd left behind five years ago, the one I shouldn't have left behind.

A man walks up to us, his body dwarfing our, his gaze shadowed. Scars litter his face, their presence and ominous warning to those staring the threat down.

"Is there a problem?" He asks but his eyes stay locked on me, measuring me up like a snake would it's dinner.

"Nothing, Elijah, we're leaving." Noah mutters, grabbing at the man's elbow and dragging him away.

My shoulders slump, my attention riveted on my sister as she turns her back on me, walking out of The Glass Box, never turning back.

• • •

They say diamonds are a girls best friend.

I say tequila is a close second.

The shot whisks it's way down my throat, a burning trail of heat settling low in my stomach.

The glass rocks side to side as I lazily let it drop from my condensation coated fingers onto the sticky hardwood tabletop.

My eyes lift, finding the eyes of the man across from me.

With one more shot the man across from me would be blurry enough to be attractive.

I lift a finger and demand that shot, watching the man from the side of my eye.

His gaze is riveted on the fight happening currently in the ring, his hands lifting, drink sloshing, hand moving down his body to grab his crotch.

I grimace.

Maybe three shots.

Cheers erupt along the patrons but I ignore the commotion, lifting the drink to my lips, sipping at the vile liquid I'm forcing myself to consume.

I lift my eyes, gaze scanning the sea of faces before my gaze snags on twinkling blue ones, the man watching me with his predators gaze.

He moves his gaze away, flicking it to the two women by his side and I force my attention elsewhere, fingers clenching around the shot glass, my mind blurry.

The fight in the ring continues, the people in the bar entertained as the two fighters beat each other, their blood dusting the walls.

A body sidles up next to mine and I turn to the man, lifting a brow.

He grins at me, his blue eyes glinting under the low lights of the room, strawberry blonde hair swept back from his face, tattoos adoring his physique.

"You look lonely."

"Not lonely enough to be talking to you." I mutter, wanting the man to walk away.

He only grins, his blue eyes brightening as he takes a seat beside me, his attention drifting to the women on his other side.

I ignore their conversation, my eyes moving to the two men fighting behind the glass when a throat clears beside me and I tune my attention to the man, raising a brow.

"I have a bet going on with my friends, they bet you wouldn't give me your number. You should give me it so I can rub it in their faces."

"And what would I get in return for helping you out?"

His eyes move slowly over my features before coming back to rest on my eyes. "Three dates, with me."

"Why do I get the feeling you'd be too much for me to handle?" I murmur to the man, watching him from the corner of my eyes as he leans tattooed arms on the bar, watching me with his head tilted.

He grins, "You can handle me Darlin', I promise."

I narrow my eyes, swinging my gaze back to the women he was with, recognition blooming as I find those familiar brown eyes on me, sobering my instantly.

I swallow, looking away from her and back to the man. "No, I don't think I could."

He grins, blue eyes alight with mischief, "What makes you say that?"

I let my gaze linger down his body.

"People like you are never alone."

His brows rise and he looks towards his companions before glancing back to me, his expression somber. "You're right. I'm not."

"I don't get involved with your type."

"My type?"

"The good guys." I say, letting the sarcasm drip from my voice.

He grins. "Trust me, no one who really knows me would call me the good guy."

I move my gaze away from his, hand grasping the drink placed in front of me and sip from it.

"I'm not interested."

"Not even a little?"

"Not at all." I reply.

His face crumbles, the fakest expression of hurt I've ever seen on a man's face but the women by my side eat it up, their glares aimed my way.

They push their shoulder back when the man pushes from the counter, turning his attention to them, his smile alarmingly charming to my senses.

"What about you two?"

The women grin, their own gaze sizing up the man in front of them, seeing him for the prey he is pretending to be.

I watch the show with veiled interest in my eyes, their numbers being scrawled on a piece of napkin before he turns his gaze to me, lifting a brow.

"Can I at least know the name of the woman denying me a shot at one true love?"

I debate giving him an inch, knowing he'll take a mile but still, my mouth slips open, words spilling free. "Andromeda."

He grins, "I'm going to marry you, Andromeda." Before he spins from me, walking for his companions once more.

I scoff at his declaration, watching him waltz away.