REID MESSES EVERYTHING UP. But he's not entirely at fault. He blames his mouth and his traitorous tongue. If it's not busy fighting with Lucas's rough lips in dank basements, the wild thing is spewing bullshit that'll get his face punched. He really can't be held accountable.

There's a moment when they saunter inside, and everything seems to be going smoothly. The bar is glossy, dark oak with stools that reach its grooved edging, and so are the round tables that take up most of the floor space. Orange lighting gives the atmosphere a late-night feel, even though the sun has just risen.

There's a closed door on the far end and a short hallway that has a tiny sign hanging above that reads, Bathrooms. The smell of cigarettes and cheap alcohol is heady.

Fortunately, there aren't many occupants this early in the morning.

A pair of older men in matching leather jackets sit in the corner near a dartboard attached to the planked wall. They're playing a card game with poker chips. They have rough exteriors, one clean-shaven and the other with a greying beard. And Reid is momentarily taken aback that he can feel the predator these men hold close to the surface, waiting to claw its way out.

By the closed door, near a window with its dark blinds drawn closed, a middle-aged woman with short black hair sits with her back to their entry. She's wearing a similar leather jacket and poring over papers that are strewn over the glossy surface. She has an elbow on the table and a palm on her forehead in a way that screams exasperation.

Nearest to the entry door, there's a guy who looks to be in his early thirties. Leather jacket and dirty military-style boots resting on the edge of the table with his chair tipped back precariously. He slowly takes the hat covering his face off, revealing silver piercings and tired amber eyes that exude wildness. He takes them in with careful scrutiny, and the shuttered glare he's giving them is hard to read, but it's not friendly.

Kenneth says, "Henrik. Where is he?" He steps forward, not threateningly, just enough to overtake Reid with a shoulder.

The chair legs thud. The loudness breaking through the quiet is startling.

Placing the frayed ball cap on his head. Hat-guy rises. He's nearly overtaking Kenneth's height.

From his peripheral view, he catches Kiernan shifting to put himself in defence of Kenneth's blind spot.

It's obvious why Kiernan's taken the risk, because he'll be able to intercept the woman, who's slowly rising from her chair.

"Aaron," the woman warns, gripping the back of her chair. She has a thick scar that curves from her left eyebrow, down her cheek, to her chin. "Don't start shit because you're in a mood."

Aaron snorts and flattens a palm on the table, attempting to appear nonchalant even though Reid can hear the patter of his heart beating wildly in his chest. Not with fear. There's a faint smell in the air—rich and spicy—and Reid knows it to be excitement.

Aaron drawls, "See, walking in here and demanding shit, that's bad manners. We don't appreciate bad manners here."

"Henrik," Kenneth says with an edge.

Aaron grins, giving a glimpse of his white teeth. "You know his name. Good for you."

Kenneth says coldly, "We saved his daughter. We need to see him."

The pair of men in the corner have completely abandoned their card game.

Noticing the shake in Kenneth's clenched fingers that promises violence, Reid interjects hastily, "We need to talk to him about Francine Teller. We think that he can help us find her."

Aaron raises a pierced eyebrow. His amber gaze takes in Reid, then lingers on his ring with a spark of recognition. He looks back at Reid's face and snorts, unimpressed. "You look like your father. Creepy."

The hate in his eyes makes Reid wish that Kenneth was blocking him entirely, not just with a hand that comes to rest on his stomach, posed to shove him back if a fight breaks out.

Reid forces a grin. "Think you have the wrong guy."

Aaron's gaze never stops hunting Reid, tilting his head so he can see around Kenneth's bulk. "That right? You look a lot like this asshole, Reid Kimberk. I used to see him around a lot, drinking at the clubs downtown."

Fuck. There goes lying about his identity. He doesn't remember this guy, but there's a good chance that they might have met when he was out of his head.

Kenneth says angrily, "Henrik. That's who we've come for. Let us see him."

The woman curses, eyes widening on Kenneth with paling recognition. "If that's...that means he's..." Her brown gaze flits to the closed door to her left.

The faint smell in the air this time is fear, and Reid has to resist the urge to grin. Aaron takes in Kenneth with wary interest, no longer nonchalant, standing at full height with his shoulders slightly hunched. "You have a reputation."

"I've heard," Kenneth grits through clenched teeth.

"Your dad was a friend," Aaron says, amber eyes taking a slight glow, not unlike magic, but this is animal, shuddering Reid's instincts with the urge to end the beast before its maw rips Kenneth's throat out.

Rowan peeks around Kenneth's form. "Presley—" She's quieted by Kenneth's large hand shoving her a staggering step to the side and she's blocked from Aaron's narrowing eyes by his bulk.

"Presley?" Aaron asks, his tone softer.

"He's a friend of mine," Rowan says, popping out from behind Kenneth with fiery red hair and frowning pink lips. "Do you know where he is? I haven't been able to get a hold of him. I know he doesn't have a pack, but I thought he might have come here looking for me. He has blonde hair and brown eyes."

Aaron nods. "I know him."

Rowan's eyes widen. "You do? Where is he?"

There's a slump to Aaron's shoulders that dissipates the tension somewhat. His gentled gaze is less hostile; exhaustion is clear in the slight red that overtakes his eyes. "First, I'll let you talk to the big man, but we have to trust you. You could be here to assassinate him. We know how sneaky your kind is."

Aaron looks at Kiernan, then at Reid, and does nothing to hide his disgust. "Gabriel's pissed that we aren't letting him hide the fact that his crazy brother killed our people and has been for months. We have more missing than we can count."

Werewolves are missing?

Reid sighs. "What do you want?"

"Daniella." Aaron glances over his shoulder. "Who's in the Pit right now?"

"Conner and Farkas," Daniella replies. She snorts. "Henrik's going to beat your ass."

She shakes her head before sitting and turning back to her papers, apparently deciding that they're not a threat to her any longer.

Aaron sits down heavily. "We hold fights sometimes." He holds up a hand. "Before you ask, yes, it's very illegal." He drops his palm to slap the table. "The Bureau bastards would be all over this place if they knew. You want us to trust you, then fight."

Rowan hides her squeal behind a palm.

"What kind of fight?" Kenneth asks, his eyes positively glinting.

Aaron grins, and there's something in the gesture that prickles Reid with uneasiness. "This'll be a mock pit fight. No rules. Except for no changing into wolf form and no magic. It's not a death match. Tap out or lose consciousness, it's over. Simple."

Kenneth snorts. "Fine."

"Ah, not you," Aaron says, his grin widening. "I've heard about you. Tough as nails. No. Let the prissy vampire get dirty. Then we'll trust you. Blood spilled, loyalty, and all that shit. Doesn't matter who wins."

Kenneth doesn't look pleased, but before he can reply, Kiernan interjects coldly, "I'll do it."

"Not you either." The look on Aaron's face when his amber eyes flick to Reid is hateful. "Is this worth messing up that good-looking face?" It's not a compliment. "If not, walk away and go back to your father."

Reid shrugs. "Sure. Let's fight."

Kenneth looks at him sharply and growls, "Reid..."

Through their bond, within, Kiernan is lividly angry, but he's hiding his emotions with a familiarly placid expression.

"Who am I fighting?" Reid asks sweetly, trying to appear nonchalant even though he's close to vomiting. He ignores Kenneth's glare and the hot magical fury wafting from the man in waves.

Aaron smiles widely. "Me." He slowly rises, and Reid frowns as his gaze follows the man's towering stature up and up. He's huge. "None of your mind tricks. No holding back. Think you can handle me?"

Reid laughs, distressed.

He's going to die.

The Pit lives up to its name. 

Through the closed door at the end of the bar, down a narrow corridor, and down a staircase that entices his nerves to knot his stomach at the tightness of the space. There's a large, cold room waiting at the end of the descent.

The Pit awaits. It's fittingly primal but modernized. There are empty benches, but most of the space around the metal caging that extends to the ceiling and bolts to the floor is concrete to give the best view of the violence and sand that holds a few questionable stains. Blood. Reid can smell it sitting heavy in the air. And death. He can't explain how he knows, but there's a staleness that shivers up his spine, and he knows that not every fight within that cage ends amicably.

And there's already a fight in full swing.

A pair of men grapple. They are both of similar weight and height. There's a punch thrown, knuckles cracking over the face of a man who looks to be in his late thirties, with dark hair and a bloody nose. The man on top has more muscular, curly orange hair, and it's hard to see his face except for his lips set into a snarl that has Reid's heart hastening with unease.

They're both shirtless and seem not to care in the slightest that they're covered in sand and sweat.

"Hey!" Aaron calls out. He's sauntering towards the bars as the men detangle with friendly greetings that don't match the ferocity they'd been showing moments prior. "We got a contender."

The dark-haired man, with greyish eyes, sits crossed-legged in the bloody sand and wipes at his nose. His gaze falls on Kenneth, and he nods in obvious approval. He looks younger than Reid initially thought, maybe closer to his early thirties, with ruggedness to his features that are becoming apparent is the norm for werewolf genes.

In another life, Kenneth would be a perfect werewolf. He fits in effortlessly.

"No," Aaron says, clearly holding back a laugh. He gestures to Reid, and the red-haired man with thick scars covering his bare chest, glistening with sandy sweat, looks downright horrified. That is, until Aaron reveals, "He's Gabriel Kimberk's son."

"Really?" the dark-haired man replies with an edge.

Kenneth pulls Reid aside. In passing, Reid whispers for Kiernan to stay close to Rowan, and the vampire does so without complaint.

They end up in a shadowed corner that the bright lights overhead don't reach.

"He's going to kill you," Kenneth says, laying his palms on Reid's cheeks. The green of Kenneth's eyes flashes dangerously. "Do you understand, moron? One hit, and you're gone. Like to the fucking moon because he's going to—"

"I get it," Reid interjects with a soft laugh.

"Then don't be dumb."

Reid lays his hands over Kenneth's fingers, squeezing gently. "Come on, give me some tips. How can I beat him?"

Kenneth pales. He tugs his hands away from Reid's, and there's an ache that settles in Reid's heart from the rejection.

After a few calming inhales, Kenneth whispers harshly, "You're really going to do this?"

"I don't have a choice. We need them to trust us."

"That isn't worth you getting your ass kicked."

"Yes, it is," Reid says, exasperated.

He looks over his shoulder, and Rowan has integrated herself with the werewolves in a way only she can, clapping and giving a dramatic rendition that has them raptly paying attention. Kiernan remains her silent guardian, lingering close by. Reid can feel that his maker is on edge, tensing in wait for the smiling werewolves to grab Rowan and drag her off to their den. 

He turns back to Kenneth. The man has taken to leaning against the concrete wall and running his fingers through his hair angrily, mussing the brown locks wildly.

Reid says gently, "I get beat up all the time. At least he's not trying to kill me."

"He might," Kenneth says warily. "You saw how he was looking at you."

"You won't let him."

Kenneth regards him for a long moment, and then says gruffly, "Don't let him hit you."

"That's kind of the point."

"Dodge," Kenneth growls, pushing away from the wall, and the intensity of his gaze makes it impossible not to listen. The world around them is a low din, lost behind the enticing thud of Kenneth's rapidly beating heart. "Look for an opening; take it when you can, but don't let him hit you. He's all strength; look at him."

Reid does, turning and taking Aaron in from afar. The guy is huge. He's shucked his leather jacket and draped it over a bench. His muscles are bulging in his black t-shirt. Kenneth's right; Aaron's too big for finesse.

He's so focused that he flinches when hands settle on his shoulders.

Kenneth says near Reid's ear, "He said anything goes; there are no rules, except entrancement, and he can't shift into his wolf form. Fight dirty. Don't let him grapple you, and if he does, tap out, because you're finished." He moves closer, his breath fanning the side of Reid's neck as he whispers, "If you don't, I'll kill everyone here. You know I can."