jammer and looked amazing on skates. I wasn’t sure Casey had actually
blinked yet
He was a damned fool. Nothing about this situation was good. I was fresh
meat, and the werewolves knew it. There was no way they were going to pull
any punches with a LaSalle girl in the rink.
At least these werewolves weren’t actively trying to kill me. Yet.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm my erratic nerves, but it was fruitless.
There was a part of me that was always on edge these days, plagued by a
low, simmering dread. The nameless, faceless blood sorcerer was still out
there, lurking in the shadows and the corners of my nightmares.
I clenched my fist. Maybe he was coming for me, but I refused to live my
life in fear. Not after the insanity I’d been through.
Instead, I was going to bravely die in a horrendous roller derby accident.
I squinted against the bright lights that swept over the rink. With the fog
machines and the dark atmosphere, the place felt like a WWF wrestling
arena. The bleachers that lined the walls of the large warehouse were packed,
and the crowd pulsed with excitement as those without seats crammed
themselves around the padded railing of the rink.
Sam whizzed past wearing black racing shorts, a matching tank with
white claw marks on the front, and a silver helmet with a removable star cap.
Rayne followed a few seconds behind, devilish tail swishing and
determination pulling at the corners of her fiery red lips. Before she could
pass, Sam planted her hands on her hips, signaling to the ref to call the jam.
A whistle pierced the clamor of the crowd, and both teams slowed and
crowded into the pit.
Zara skidded to a halt before me, sweaty and cheeks flushed. “You’re up,
Savy.”
She wore our team’s signature outfit—black shorts, a pink jersey, and
retro knee-high socks—with fishnet stockings to top it off. She gulped from a
Red Bull and offered it to me.