OLEANDER
My nose wrinkled the moment we stepped into the dim basement. The air reeked of blood, booze, and sweat. Loud music blasted from unseen speakers. A single buzzing light hung low over a caged ring where two roosters circled each other—feathers fluffed, beaks snapping.
I turned to Dante, disbelief lacing my voice. "You brought me to a chicken fight?"
This definitely wasn't where I thought we'd end up, especially after he'd made me change dresses three times until he was satisfied with the final pick.
I wore a floor-length red gown with delicate straps, perfect for a charity gala—not some gritty underground pit where half the men looked like they hadn't seen a shower in weeks and desperately needed to be cut off from alcohol.
Still, I supposed I should be grateful he hadn't dragged me to a nightclub again to witness another one of those dreadful performances. The memory alone made me shiver, and I pulled my shawl tighter around my shoulders.
