Master Class: Fighting For a Prize

I know!  I'm late.  I don't have much of an excuse.  But I did manage to get two of the three Master Class prompts worked into this piece.  Here's the latest in the White Wolves series.  Also be sure to check out other excellent responses via the Master Class button below.

            “Waylon,” the leader of the three started, “You flea-bitten, mangy, pathetic excuse of an omega.”

            In the pause Rhys jumped in, “That’s quite the set of flowered insults there, Jennings.”

            Jennings made for Rhys, but the other two stopped him.  They both spoke softly to Jennings for several seconds.  Finally, Jennings quit baring his teeth and growling.

            “Mr. Harris wants to see you,” Jennings said, a tinge of a gravelly rumble still coloring his voice.

            “I don’t care.  Harris has no territory here,” Rhys moved to the center of the small bar, blocking Jen from the men.

            Jen scooted back further into the corner.  She’d hung around her ex and his loser friends long enough to recognize when a fight was brewing.  She watched as the men squared off.  Jennings was in front of Rhys.  The other two shifted to encircle him.

            The bartender stepped to Rhys’s back.  No words were spoken.  Even as the first punches were thrown, Jen didn’t know who struck first, Jen found it to be an eerily silent disturbance.  All five men moved with supernatural sleek.  Punches and kicks were doled out in a blur.  Blood seemed to spring into existence from nowhere on all five men.  It was the only sign Jen saw that any of the punches or kicks landed.  None of the strikes seemed to phase the men.

            Then, just as quickly as it started, the brawl was over.  And in the same deafening stillness.  Jennings and his two boys had been pushed back to the door.  Rhys and the bartender were rather battered, but clearly were the victors.  The only trouble was that Jen wasn’t certain what they’d won.

            Rhys growled, a low rumbling reminiscent of the wolf she’d seen him become just a little while ago.  The two men with Jennings ducked their heads and backed out of the bar.  Jennings stood his ground.

            “Tell Harris he has no business here.  This territory, and everything in it, belongs to me.  If he wants it, tell him he’ll need to come get it himself.”

            Jen blinked several times and studied Rhys again.  The danger laced into those words was impressive for a man who’d been nothing but polite and respectful to her.  She felt the panic rising in her.  What had she gotten herself into?  Taking several deep breaths, Jen reminded herself it was all for Cullen.  There was nothing she would not do for her son.

            Jen had missed the last exchange of words.  She watched as Jennings slunk out of bar, not quite turning his back on Rhys.  Once the door was closed, the bar tender locked it while Rhys collapsed into a chair near Jen.

            “Are you going to be okay?  I mean do I need to take either of you to the hospital or something?”

            “No.  Jerry’ll get the first aid kit.  Then we’ll both be just fine.”

            “What did they want?  For this Mr. Harris?”

             Rhys shot her a steady, level look, “They wanted you.”