Bad Taste (Part II) // Colby Brock

216 - Rebecca

Sam had ended up going alone to the hotel—Colby heard Angela before they'd left and figured he needed to be around for me—but he didn't find anything anyway. Neither did anyone else, which was more than frustrating. We were trying to figure out what we had to look for and with the pressure of his return at any time building, our forces and focus were split too far apart.

Mike trained whoever was home, I ordered everyone to keep them working, and Colby backed me up if they didn't listen, and he stood by my side in everything. He didn't try to take control of my investigation, nor did he try to overpower me at all. He just worked with me and, when I was starting to lose the carefully-curated mask, he helped me put it back together.

We both knew I was going to need some time after all this to recalibrate myself; to become someone I wanted to be, but until Julian died, I couldn't do that.

I walked past the kitchen, noticing Aryia standing at the fridge in the corner of my eye. I thought he'd gone with Angela, but I wasn't interested enough to ask about it. I was on my way outside, where I could hear Mike training a large group of us. The only ones missing were Kevin and Colby, who were out doing another search. Sam had found another hotel, though our hopes to find Julian had slowly been crushed by now.

Jake was in the middle of being thrown to the floor when I stepped out into the cold—LA had decided now was the time to freeze us during the night. Tara zipped into the training circle to help Jake, only for Elton to dart out and throw her back to the spectators. Seeing this forced Jake to his feet, but he let it go when Mike began throwing punches again.

I stood next to Katrina as Jake threw a devastating punch into Mike's face, sending him to the floor after a loud grunt. He landed on his hands, causing him to groan as he tried to stand back up. Mike wasn't normally this weak—what was wrong with him?

"Mike," I said, "the hell? Pick yourself back up."

He didn't reply, staying in a push-up position on the concrete.

"Mike."

"Beck, leave it," Tara called to me from the other side of the group. I narrowed my eyes at her before walking toward Mike, ignoring the soft snarl rippling through his body. I crouched down, peering at his face. He'd vamped out.

"What's wrong with you?" I asked, frowning. His red eyes met mine but he didn't say anything, slowly bringing himself to his knees. I wasn't afraid of him, though it felt like that's what he was trying to do: intimidate me. "Get off your ass. You're supposed to be keeping these guys in check."

"Fuck yourself," he snapped back.

I growled at him. "Don't you dare fucking disrespect me like that."

"Rich coming from you." Mike stood up and brushed off his knees as I, too, got to my full height. He was taller than Colby, who was already much taller than me, but his height had never scared me. Neither had his muscles or those stupid red eyes. No one scared me.

Crossing my arms, I said, "You better watch yourself. Colby's not the only one who'll kick your ass for saying that shit."

"Colby'll have my back on this one, not yours," Mike snapped back.

"Really?" I didn't believe him.

"Yeah. We're fucking tired, Rebecca. And barely have enough blood between us—for those who don't have walking blood mobiles like you." He bore his fangs at me, taking a step closer. I heard Sam muttering a warning at Mike, though he wasn't in the mood to listen. "I'm not training these guys anymore tonight. They need a break and so do I."

"We can't stop training yet."

"We can and we're going to." Mike looked to Aryia, who was outside now. They exchanged a short nod and he zipped off again. I frowned, glancing between the now open door and Mike, then I rolled my eyes.