APEX - Season 2

Ch. 13: Don't Hold Back

Rhys

The Apex Axe, a place where alcohol consumption and the tossing of sharp objects came together in an unholy matrimony, was more fun than I wanted to admit, especially because it had been Aamon's idea to come here.

I stepped forward over the concrete floor, sticky from spilled beer, pried an ax out of the large stump it was wedged into and raised it over my head, my eyes focused on the bullseye across from me.

Aamon and our band of bodyguards watched on from the sidelines. "You got this, brother," Aamon cheered. He'd been surprisingly good-natured tonight. Either he'd forgotten our past conflicts and all the other dire situations we were dealing with, or some ego-feeding situation had come up to bolster his spirits. Maybe he was still hopeful I'd confess to crimes I was innocent of and thereby clear his name. Whatever the case, for the moment, he seemed to be team Rhys.

I took aim, calculated force, and swung my arm forward, letting the axe fly. It went barreling towards its goal, hitting a foot to the left of center. Not my best throw, but not my worst of the night either.

I sat back down next to my brother. "I've gotta admit, I expected you to be better at this," he said.

So did I, but what I couldn't tell him was that my balance was off after having been abducted, beaten, and presumably dosed with poison. Either that or I was compromised by a disease I'd never heard of before. "I'm off my game," I told him instead. "I've got a lot going on."

"I get it," he said, patting my back. "That's why I suggested this place. I thought you might be able to blow off a bit of steam. Plus, they don't hate us here. Well, most of them don't, at least."

The Apex Axe had only been open for a year, but even though it was human-owned and operated, it had been established as an inclusive business open to humans and werewolves alike. They even offered several werewolf-optimal playing fields, like the one we were playing at, where the target was set back an extra twenty feet.

Most of the employees treated me, Aamon, and his entourage like they would their human patrons, and even the customers seemed friendly enough. I had gotten one side-eye from a human male about my age, but the look of distaste had not risen to the level of a challenge. There'd been no name calling. I could live with that. Still, I had to wonder how much longer a place like this could maintain its neutrality. Even with it located in the center of Apex territory, and sporting the Apex name, if the vote went against werewolves, a shifter friendly establishment like this would become a target.

Well, at least they'd be armed, I thought to himself as Aamon took his turn swinging an axe.

"Bullseye!" Aamon pumped his fists in victory and returned to the table. "Looks like I'm coming out on top in more ways than one. No offense."

I frowned. "How am I not supposed to be offended by that?"

"Hey, it was your idea to..." He looked around to make sure no one was listening and then leaned in towards me. "Confess."

"Don't look so smug about it. I'm painfully aware of how a confession from me would benefit you."

"Wait—are you talking about me being elevated to Alpha?" Aamon made a face like he'd just tasted rancid meat. "You don't seriously think I care about that, do you?"

"I know you do."

"You've got me so wrong, bro. I mean, sure, it seems great in theory. You get all the glory. But you're also expected to follow all the rules. Everyone's always watching you to make sure you do your duty. It's not as fun as being second born. Besides, I'm not that into status."