Chapter 14: Ivy

Chapter

Fourteen

IVY

T he biting snowy air cuts through the borrowed shirts I'm wearing, chilling me to the bone despite Wraith's warmth. I burrow closer against his broad chest, grateful for the shelter of his massive arms as he carries me through the deep snow. Each of his steps sinks halfway up his calves, the pristine white surface deceptively treacherous.

"Watch your footing," Thane calls out from the rear of our group, his voice slightly muffled by the icy wind. "The snow could be hiding shit."

As if to emphasize his point, Whiskey suddenly pitches forward with a startled yelp, disappearing up to his waist in a hidden crevasse. Valek, still unsteady from the lingering drugs in his system, stumbles into him with a slurred curse. For a heart-stopping moment, I'm afraid they'll both go tumbling down the mountainside.

But Thane lunges forward, grabbing Whiskey's shoulder and hauling him up with a grunt. The three of them stand there panting, snow clinging to their bare shoulders and hair.

"Fuck," Whiskey mutters, shaking himself like a dog. "That was close." He shoots Valek a dirty look. "Probably did that on purpose. Asshole."

"Not that time," Valek mutters.

I feel Wraith's arms tighten around me protectively. His chest rumbles with a low growl, steam curling from his sharp teeth in the frigid air. I stroke his arm soothingly, trying to calm him. The last thing we need is for him to lose control again out here.

Thankfully, it works.

We press on, the wind growing stronger with each step. It howls through the skeletal trees, their branches creaking ominously under the weight of snow and ice. Massive icicles hang from every surface, glittering like deadly crystal daggers in the weak morning light. One strong gust could send them plummeting down on our heads.

The beauty of our surroundings is undeniable, but it's a cold, unforgiving sort of beauty. The kind that could kill you in an instant if you let your guard down.

I lose track of time as we trudge onward, the monotony of white broken only by the occasional dark smudge of a tree or rocky outcropping. My thoughts drift, circling back to everything that's happened. To the choice Valek gave me. To the realization that I've chosen this pack of alphas, for better or worse.

A sharp crack jolts me from my thoughts. We all freeze, eyes darting around for the source of the sound.

"Avalanche?" Whiskey mutters.

Thane shakes his head, dark eyes scanning the mountainside above us. "No, that was?—"

Another crack splits the air, followed by an ominous groaning. Before any of us can react, the snow-laden branches of a massive pine give way. They come crashing down mere inches from where Valek is standing, showering us all in a burst of powder and debris.

" Move !" Thane roars.

We scramble forward as more branches snap and fall around us. Wraith's long strides eat up the ground, his powerful body shielding me from the worst of it. I cling to him, heart pounding in my chest as I watch the others dodge and weave through the deadly rain.

When we finally reach a clear patch, we all stop to catch our breath. Valek is sporting a nasty gash on his cheek where a branch must have caught him. Blood trickles down his pale skin, stark against the white backdrop.

"Well," he says, his usual smirk firmly in place despite his ragged breathing. "That was invigorating." He swipes his fingers across his cheek and licks the blood away like a goddamn cat.

I want to smack him.

How can he be so nonchalant when we almost fucking died? But there's a tightness around his silver eyes, a tension in his shoulders that betrays his true feelings.

He's just as shaken as the rest of us.

"We need to keep moving," Thane says, a coating of snow clinging to his shaggy dark hair. "We're too exposed out here."

No one argues.

We set off again, our pace quicker now despite the exhaustion I can see weighing on everyone. The adrenaline from our near miss has worn off, leaving behind bone-deep weariness.

I wish I could walk on my own to ease Wraith's burden. But I know my bare feet would be useless in this terrain. So I do what I can to make myself as light as possible in his arms, ignoring the lingering ache between my thighs from earlier activities.

We've been walking for what feels like hours when Plague suddenly stops dead in his tracks. His entire body goes rigid, pale blue eyes fixed on something in the distance.

I follow his gaze, squinting against the glare of sun on snow.

There, nestled against the mountainside, is the most beautiful train I've ever seen. Its sleek white body gleams even from this distance as it stretches along the mountainside like a serpent, ornate carvings in delicate geometric patterns adorning its sides. A gilded seal marks the engine car, glimmering in the soft morning light. An ibis in flight rendered in gold leaf, its long curved neck arching gracefully over its back as it grasps a lotus flower in its slender beak.

"What is that?" I ask, unable to keep the wonder from my voice. It looks like something out of a fairy tale, not a functional mode of transportation. "I've never seen a train like that before."

Whiskey grins, a spark of hope lighting his eyes. "Hey, maybe we can hitch a ride."

Plague's jaw works, like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say. "It goes to Surhiira," he finally mutters. "Not Reinmich."

That earns a snort from Whiskey. "Yeah, no shit. And the Shurhidarians would blow our heads off on sight. I know. But let a guy dream, yeah?"

Plague's pale eyes flash dangerously as he turns to glare at Whiskey. The look on his face could curdle milk. " Surhiirans ."

"What are you talking about?" I ask, glancing between them. "What's Surhiira?" The name sounds light and musical on my tongue, nothing like the rough names I'm used to.

Thane sighs, raking a hand through his snowy hair. "It's an independent nation in the southeast. Nobody really knows what goes on down there. They're neutral, but only because they're completely isolationist."

"Yup," Whiskey chimes in. "But they're badass. Everyone's an assassin, even the omegas. The kids, too."

"That makes no sense," Plague snaps. "Who would there be to kill?"

Whiskey shrugs. "I dunno, it's probably a battle royale free-for-all."

I frown, processing this new information. Another nation, one I've never even heard whispers of? How is that possible?

Then again, my world has been so small for so long.

As much as it bothers me, there's probably a lot I don't know.

I huddle closer to Wraith's warmth as we follow the winding path. The pristine white train haunts the edge of my vision, taunting us with its promise of shelter. My teeth chatter despite my best efforts to stop them.

Whiskey stumbles again, this time catching himself on Valek's shoulder. The silver-eyed alpha snarls and shoves him away.

"Touch me again and I will cut off your fingers."

"Fuck you too, buddy." Whiskey flips him off with a frost-reddened hand.

A low growl builds in Wraith's chest. I stroke his arm, trying to soothe him before the tension escalates. His muscles bunch under my touch, but he doesn't lash out.

The wind picks up, driving needles of ice into any exposed skin. I press my face into Wraith's scarred neck.

"This is taking too long," Thane mutters from behind us. "We need to find shelter soon."

"No shit," Whiskey pants. "I can't feel my fucking ass anymore."

That seems like something Plague would normally have a remark about, but this time, he's unusually silent. He moves like a shadow through the snow, his face turned toward the gleaming train in the distance. Something about his posture seems off.

Almost wistful.

The path narrows, forcing us to walk single file. Loose rocks skitter under our feet, vanishing into the white void below. One wrong step and we'd follow them down.

My borrowed clothes are stiff with ice now, crackling with each of Wraith's movements. The cold has settled deep in my bones, making everything ache. Even my eyelashes are frosted over.

I lose myself in the hypnotic crunch of boots on snow, the rhythmic puff of breath visible in the frigid air. Time becomes meaningless, marked only by the gradual dimming of the weak winter sun.

When I lift my head again, squinting against the glare, my heart drops into my stomach. The mountain pass we've been following disappears beneath an impenetrable wall of snow and fallen trees.

" Fuck !" Whiskey growls, stomping uselessly at the barrier. "Now what?"

An uncomfortable silence falls over the group. I can practically hear the gears turning in everyone's heads as they try to come up with a solution.

"We could take the train," Plague says, so quietly I almost miss it.

Everyone stares at him.

"You can't be serious," Thane growls. "Surhiira wants nothing to do with a pack of Council attack dogs, and they travel with the most lethal snipers in the Outer Reaches and beyond. If they spot us, we're as good as dead—let alone if we walk up to them."

The others seem equally bewildered. Whiskey opens his mouth, no doubt ready to unleash a barrage of inflammatory questions, but Plague cuts him off with a sharp gesture.

"Wait here. I'll be back," he mutters, his voice oddly strained. Without another word, he turns and starts trudging through the deep snow, heading in the direction of the gleaming white train.

"What the fuck is he thinking?" Whiskey growls, taking a step forward like he's going to follow. Thane's hand on his shoulder stops him. "Bro, he's gonna get himself killed!"

"Let him go," Thane says, though his eyes never leave Plague's retreating form. "Something's up."

I nod, unable to shake the unease settling in my gut. "I've never seen him like this before," I say through chattering teeth.

Wraith rumbles softly, his arms tightening around me. I glance up to see his intense blue eyes fixed on the spot where Plague disappeared into the swirling snow. There's a wariness in his gaze that only heightens my own anxiety.

"Never seen him what? Weird?" Whiskey asks, glancing over at me before kicking at the snow again like he's punishing it. "Have you been living under a rock all this time? Guy's fucking nuts under all that fancy ass veneer."

"I'm surprised you know that word," Thane says dryly.

Whiskey snorts. "Learned it from you."

We wait in tense silence as the minutes drag by. The wind picks up, whipping icy crystals against my face. I burrow deeper into Wraith's embrace as the others press in around us to keep me warm, shifting restlessly.

Except Valek. He just hums tunelessly to himself, seemingly unbothered by the growing tension and the snow collecting in his hair and on his bare shoulders.

It's Whiskey who finally snaps.

"Fuck this," he snarls, leaving the huddle to pace back and forth like a caged animal, his bare torso bright red from the frigid wind. He's so heated, he's practically steaming. "It's been too long. What if the Shittarians or whatever those fuckers are called decided to take him prisoner? We should go after him."

"And do what, exactly?" Thane counters, though I can see the worry etched in the lines of his face. "Charge in there guns blazing? That's a great way to get us all killed."

"So we just sit here with our thumbs up our asses?" Whiskey shoots back. "Real fuckin' heroic, boss. Just because you had the worst day of your life doesn't mean the rest of us have to."

Thane's eyes narrow. "What the fuck are you on about?"

Whiskey shrugs his broad shoulders. "I dunno, man, I wouldn't wanna hold down my literal bro while my mate sucked his dick to calm him down."

Wraith snarls dangerously.

"You have a brother?" I ask, surprised.

"Well, no, but I have an imagination."

Thane's fist twitches at his side like he's about to put it through Whiskey's head when movement at the edge of my vision catches my attention. I squint through the falling snow, my heart leaping as a familiar figure emerges from the white haze.

"He's back," I call out, relief flooding through me.

The others turn as one, watching as Plague makes his way toward us. His usual graceful gait is hampered by the deep snow, but there's a determination in his stride that wasn't there before. As he draws closer, I search his face for some clue as to what transpired during his absence.

But his expression is as unreadable as ever, his pale blue eyes giving nothing away.

"Well?" Thane demands as soon as Plague is within earshot. "What happened?"

Plague meets our leader's gaze steadily.

"We can board," he says flatly.

For a moment, no one speaks. The only sound is the howling of the wind and the soft crunch of snow beneath Plague's boots as he comes to a stop before us.

Then Whiskey explodes.

"That's it?" he roars, gesturing wildly. "You disappear for fuck knows how long, come back looking like you've seen a ghost, and all you've got to say is ' we can board '? What the actual fuck? I'm sick of your fuckin' mysteries."

Plague's eyes narrow dangerously. "I got us passage. Isn't that what matters?"

"It's a far cry from the fucking Chateau!" Whiskey yells, throwing his hands up.

"The Chateau we can't reach on foot without dying," Plague snaps. "At least we can regroup in Surhiira."

Thane has a wary look on his face I don't like at all.

"How?" I ask, unable to keep the suspicion from my voice. "You said they wanted nothing to do with us. What changed?"

A muscle ticks in Plague's jaw, but he doesn't answer. The silence stretches, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second.

Finally, Whiskey breaks it with a bark of laughter that holds no real humor. "Oh, I get it. Who'd you suck off to get us on that fancy-ass train? Must've been one shitty experience?—"

Plague moves so fast I almost miss it. One moment he's standing still as a statue, the next he has Whiskey by the throat, slamming him back against a snow-covered boulder. The larger alpha's eyes go wide with shock as Plague leans in close, his voice a low, dangerous growl.

"Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth."

Whiskey, to his credit, doesn't back down. He meets Plague's glare with one of his own, and for a heart-stopping moment, I'm sure the alphas are about to come to blows.

Again.

Then Thane is there, physically inserting himself between the two alphas. "Enough," he snaps, his voice carrying the full weight of command. "Both of you, stand down. Now ."

Slowly, reluctantly, Plague releases his grip on Whiskey's throat. The larger alpha rubs at the reddening marks left behind, a low growl rumbling in his chest. But neither of them makes a move to continue the confrontation.

"If you two are done measuring dicks," Thane says, his tone dripping with sarcasm, "we have a train to catch. Unless you'd rather freeze to death out here?"

The reminder of our precarious situation seems to snap everyone back to reality. Whiskey mutters something under his breath I can't quite catch, but I'm pretty sure it's dick related. He falls in line as Thane starts leading us toward the distant train. Plague follows a few paces behind us, his posture rigid, gaze fixed straight ahead like we're walking straight to the gallows.

The strange tension is unnerving.

But what choice do we have?

The wind whips mercilessly at my face as we trudge through the knee-deep snow toward the gleaming white train. Even nestled in Wraith's arms, the biting cold is seeping through the layers of clothes hanging off my body.

As we draw closer to the train, I catch a glimpse of people bustling about on the platform. My eyes widen as I take in their appearances. High cheekbones and aquiline noses give them an aristocratic air. The lower halves of their faces are all covered, the men wearing white scarves while the women wear jingling beaded veils. Their clothes are a sea of pristine white, adorned with glittering gold accents that catch the sunlight. Flowing robes and tailored suits alike move with an otherworldly grace. The sheer head coverings the women wear do little to contain their uniformly lush black hair spilling out in glossy waves.

They all look strangely out of place against the backdrop of the desolate wasteland. As we approach, several of them turn to look at us, wariness in their furrowed brows.

A tall woman whose plump build fills out her beautiful silky robes steps forward, her golden veil swaying gently. "Welcome, travelers," she says, her voice musical as she glances over us. She smells of alpha, but she has none of the usual aggression in her stance or tone.

Her gaze lingers briefly on Plague, her hazel eyes unreadable before flicking to Wraith. He holds me fractionally tighter with a soft growl, lowering his face into my hair to hide his scarred jaw. That draws her attention and her eyes crinkle at the corners with a smile.

"And an omega," she adds softly.

Thane tenses beside us, his jaw clenching. I glance over at him, confused by his reaction to such a friendly greeting, but he steps forward and gives her a stiff bow.

"Thank you," he says in a stiff tone.

"Please, come aboard," the woman says, gesturing toward the train's gleaming entrance. "We've prepared a special car for your comfort."

I have to admit that sounds kind of nice.

Thane gives a curt nod and motions for us to follow. The tension radiates off him in waves and the others don't look much more comfortable.

Especially Plague.

The opulence that hits me the moment we step inside the train car is instantly overwhelming. Everything gleams and sparkles, a stark contrast to the harsh world outside. The cream and gold carpet beneath our feet is so plush, the alphas' boots sink into it like they're walking on snow. Delicate floral patterns weave through geometric borders, each thread catching the light from polished brass lamps mounted at regular intervals along the walls.

My fingers itch to trace the mother-of-pearl inlays that wind their way through the rich wooden panels like frozen streams. The designs tell stories. Birds in flight, flowering vines, and what looks like ancient script in a language I don't recognize. The gauzy curtains framing the windows drift in an unfelt breeze, their edges embroidered with tiny golden beads that chime softly when they brush against each other. The soft tinkle of piano music fills the space, the notes flowing from hidden speakers.

The air smells of jasmine and sandalwood, sweet and exotic. Brass tables with intricate filigree legs stand between plush chairs upholstered in cream silk, every surface displaying ornate silver trays full of biscuits, croissants, tiny sandwiches, and fine porcelain teacups. My mouth waters at the scent of fresh, warm food despite my nerves.

It's beautiful.

Too beautiful.

And the prettiest things can hide the ugliest truths.

I press closer to Wraith's chest, earning a wary rumble. His heartbeat thunders against my ear, steady and strong.

At least I'm not the only one who feels out of place here.

We're led down a corridor lined with private compartments, each door carved with equally delicate floral motifs. Our guide stops before an especially elaborate door at the end of the car.

"Your accommodations," she says with a slight bow. "Please make yourselves comfortable. We'll be departing shortly."

Whiskey snorts. "Hopefully not the dead kind of departing," he says under his breath as the door closes behind us.

Thane rounds on Plague. "What the fuck is going on?" he demands in a harsh whisper. "How did you arrange this?"

Plague's face is a mask of cool indifference. "Don't worry about it."

"Bullshit," Whiskey growls. "Spill it, Doc. What aren't you telling us?"

I watch the exchange with growing unease. Plague's usual clinical demeanor has been replaced by something... colder. More distant. He won't meet any of our eyes as he moves to stand by the window, his back to us and his arms folded over his chest.

"It doesn't matter," he says flatly. "We're here. We're safe. Isn't that enough?"

"No, it fucking isn't," Thane snaps. "Not when you're acting shady as hell. What did you promise them?"

Plague's shoulders tense, but he doesn't turn around. "Nothing we can't afford to give."

A chill runs down my spine at his words. What does that mean? What could he possibly have offered that would make them not only allow us passage, but treat us like honored guests?

But before Thane can press Plague further, a soft knock at the door interrupts us. We all freeze, exchanging wary glances. After a moment's hesitation, Thane moves to open it.

A young beta in a flowing white gown glides into the compartment, pushing an ornate brass cart laden with covered silver trays. The scent of spices and freshly baked bread fills the air, making my mouth water despite my anxiety.

"Refreshments for your journey," she says sweetly, gulping audibly when she glimpses Wraith. I narrow my eyes at her. "And… warm clothes for your omega."

She reaches beneath the cart and pulls out a stack of white folded fabric. She turns to me, her eyes lingering on me and her head tilted in curiosity, as if she doesn't know what to make of me. Whatever's going through her mind, it doesn't last long. She offers me a shy smile and holds out the stack of fabric.

"Thanks," I murmur, taking it carefully. I'm still on edge, but my tension softens somewhat when I feel how warm the fabric is. I unfold it, revealing a luxurious plush robe thicker and softer than anything I've ever felt in my life.

"I can stand," I say to Wraith.

He sets me down reluctantly and I flex my toes against the padded cream carpet. It's so plush, my feet sink into it, instantly warmed. I pull the robe over my borrowed clothes and start undressing beneath it since it's huge on me and I don't particularly want to be naked in front of a stranger.

Wraith holds out his hand and helps take the clothes from me as the beta beings setting out the trays on the table. The wooden beads of her necklace click against each other as she moves. A gilded pendant in the shape of an ibis skull with a third eye hangs from the center.

Interesting.

She catches me looking at it and gives me another shy smile, touching the pendant reverently. Maybe it's not just a necklace. I didn't think anyone was religious these days, but the small wooden balls are spaced out and separated with intricate knots like prayer beads.

As she begins setting out the trays on the small tables scattered throughout the compartment and pouring glasses of wine from an alabaster jug, I can't help but study her. Her movements are graceful, almost dance-like. The golden beads adorning her veil chime softly with each motion.

Once she's finished arranging everything, she bows deeply. "Please enjoy. We will depart shortly." With that, she glides out of the compartment as silently as she entered.

For a long moment, no one moves. The rich aromas wafting from the uncovered dishes are tempting, but suspicion keeps us all rooted in place.

Finally, Whiskey breaks the silence with a snort. "Fuck it," he declares, reaching for a glass of wine. "If they're poisoning us, we have bigger problems on our hands." He holds it up in a toast, eyes locking on Plague. "To… whatever the fuck this is."

"Whiskey, don't—" Thane starts, but it's too late. The big alpha has already taken a long swig.

We all watch him with bated breath, waiting for him to keel over. But after a moment, he just smacks his lips appreciatively. "Damn, that's good. Spicy as hell, though. Not sure I'd put cardamom in wine, but it works."

His casual attitude seems to break some of the tension. Valek saunters over to inspect the spread, lifting lids and sniffing experimentally. "Well, well… it seems our gracious hosts have excellent taste."

One by one, the others begin to relax slightly. I settle into one of the plush cushioned chairs at the table and Wraith sits beside me, always my shadow. I'm still marveling at the luxury surrounding us as I pick up a warm, buttery croissant stuffed with bright red jam. I smell it suspiciously. It smells sweet, like some kind of fruit I've never had. There are tiny black specks in it and I pick one out to crunch it between my fingers. A seed?

I don't trust it.

Wraith lets out a soft, questioning growl, signing to me. Hungry ?

"I don't take food from strangers," I admit with a little laugh.

He hesitates, looking at the croissant in my hand, and motions for me to give it to him while signing again, instructing me not to look.

I tilt my head, frowning. "At what?" I ask.

He gestures pointedly to his scarred face.

Oh.

He must be self-conscious about the way he looks when he eats. My shoulders sag a little. "Wraith, I don't care about that," I murmur.

He signs again. I do. You should.

"Well, I don't."

He blows a puff of air through his nose and slides his palm down over my eyes, effectively blinding me. I try to pry his hand off, struggling. "Hey!" I hiss, but when he lets me push his hand away, a jagged bite of the croissant is missing. He holds it out to me, bobbing it gently, trying to entice me.

"What if the poison works better on me because I'm smaller than you?" I mutter, taking it from him and giving it another tentative sniff.

He shakes his head reassuringly.

I hesitate again before taking a nibble. All the tension bleeds out of me in spite of my natural wariness as the buttery, flaky pastry melts on my tongue and I can't help but let out a little moan of satisfaction as I take a bigger bite. The flavors explode in my mouth.

Shit, even if it is poisoned, it's worth it.

Silence falls over the compartment now that we've all warmed up and have had the chance to eat and drink. The gentle sway of the train as it begins to move does nothing to settle the unease churning in my stomach that's only slightly better now that I've had something to eat.

"I'll say one thing, these people are classy as fuck," Whiskey mutters.

Plague gives a derisive snort, staring out the window.

Valek hums, delicately sipping what looks like some kind of fruit nectar. His hand is shaking, so I'm guessing he's still pretty fucked up, but he looks more bright-eyed than he did before. "Indeed."

Whiskey shoots Valek a vicious glare. "And what the fuck are you weighing in on?" he growls. "You're out of the damn pack."

Valek's lips curl into a slight smirk. "Oh, I am? News to me." He glances at Ivy. "Shouldn't it be up to our real leader?"

I arch an eyebrow at him. "What are you getting at?"

"Well," Valek says, his smirk widening into a full-blown grin. "We're all clearly at your beck and call. You have more sway over this pack of broken toys than the brute."

I just stare at him, not sure what to say to that.

"Hey," Whiskey interjects. "I'm the brute if anyone is."

"No, you're the dumbass," Valek replies in a clipped tone.

Whiskey's hand twitches like he's thinking about grabbing Valek by the throat and throwing him out of the damn train. I need to say something before all hell breaks loose.

Especially since they're all looking to me.

Even Thane.

When did that happen?

"We'll deal with it later," I mutter, feeling weirdly awkward under the collective weight of all their stares. "I don't know what I think right now, and I'm not going to know for a while. Okay?"

Valek's silver eyes glint like he's about to gloat and change my fucking mind, but before anyone can say anything in response, the compartment door slides open again.

This time, it's a man who enters.

He's massive, his broad shoulders straining at a crisp white suit and his strong features partially hidden behind the intricately embroidered white scarf covering his lower face except for the edges of a dark beard. Unlike the attendant from earlier, his presence commands attention. There's an air of authority about him that has everyone tensing up again.

But then he gives a slight, stiff bow.

"I trust you're finding everything to your satisfaction?" he asks, his accent lilting and musical. Posh, even. Not what I expected from an alpha who looks like he could turn the average man into bone dust with a single punch.

Thane squares his shoulders. "Yes, thank you. We appreciate your hospitality."

The man inclines his head slightly. "Good. We will reach Surhiira in six hours."

Whiskey shifts in his seat, his brow furrowed. I can practically see the gears turning in his head.

Oh no. I know that look.

He's about to say something.

And knowing Whiskey, it could be anything from brilliantly insightful to catastrophically stupid.

"I've got a question," he says, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

Everyone goes rigid. Thane's jaw clenches so hard I'm afraid he might crack a tooth. Plague's eyes narrow, his fingers tightening around the delicate teacup he's holding. Wraith's hands tense like he's preparing for a fight.

I hold my breath, waiting for whatever's about to come out of Whiskey's mouth.

Please, for once in your life, think before you speak...

"Why are you letting us go to Surhiira?" Whiskey asks, his tone surprisingly measured. "I mean, no offense, but a little bird told me it's pretty damn hard to get in."

I blink, taken aback.

That... was actually a good question.

I glance at the others, seeing my own surprise mirrored on their faces. Well, except for Plague. His expression is as unreadable as ever, but there's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before.

The man in the suit stares at Whiskey for a long moment, his pale blue eyes unblinking and his face seemingly expressionless behind his embroidered scarf. The silence stretches, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second.

Just as I'm about to break it myself, the man's gaze shifts.

To Plague.

My breath catches in my throat as I watch the silent exchange. There's something in the man's eyes, a knowing glint that sends a chill down my spine. Plague meets his gaze steadily as he sets down his teacup. His index finger twitches slightly.

"He didn't tell you?" the man in the suit asks.

My heart starts racing. Tell us what? What does he know that we don't? I look to Plague, silently pleading with him to explain, to say something, anything to dispel the growing unease in my gut.

But he stares out the window instead.

"Tell us what?" Whiskey demands, all pretense of calm evaporating. He half-rises from his seat, muscles coiled like he's ready to pounce. "What the fuck is going on here?"

The man in white doesn't answer. He just looks at Whiskey for a long, unsettling moment, then turns and glides out of the compartment. The door slides shut behind him with a soft click that echoes like a gunshot in the stunned silence he leaves in his wake.

For a heartbeat, no one moves.

No one speaks.

We're all frozen, trying to process what just happened.

What it means.

Then all hell breaks loose.

"What the fuck ?" Whiskey roars, surging to his feet and rounding on Plague. "What aren't you telling us? What kind of shit have you gotten us into?"

Plague doesn't flinch. Doesn't even blink. He just looks up at Whiskey with an infuriatingly calm expression. "I told you," he says, a slight tremor entering his voice that I doubt has anything to do with Whiskey losing his temper. "It's nothing you need to worry about."

"Bullshit!" Whiskey snarls. His fist slams down on the table, sending delicate china rattling. "That cryptic motherfucker just made it pretty damn clear we should be worrying!"

"Whiskey!" Thane barks, rising.

I feel Wraith tense beside me, a low growl building in his chest. But I can't just sit here and watch this unfold. I need answers.

"Plague," I say, keeping my voice as calm as I can manage. "Please. Whatever's going on, we deserve to know. We're a pack. We're supposed to trust each other."

Something flickers in his eyes at that. Pain? Guilt? It's gone so quickly I can't be sure I didn't imagine it. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, seeming to struggle with himself.

"You wouldn't understand," he says finally, his voice so quiet I have to strain to hear it.

"Try us," Thane growls, his massive frame radiating tension as he looms over Plague. "Because right now, all I understand is that you've made some kind of deal without consulting any of us. A deal that's taking us into the heart of a nation that, as far as we know, has a long history of wanting nothing to do with outsiders and executing anyone who approaches them."

Plague's jaw is working again as he lets out a slow breath through his nose, staring out the window again like none of us exist. The silence stretches, growing heavier with each passing second. I can feel the others' patience wearing thin. If he doesn't start talking soon, I'm afraid things might turn violent.

"It was the only way," Plague says at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "The only way to keep us safe. To keep her safe."

My breath catches in my throat.

"What are you talking about?" I ask, my voice shaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady. "What did you do, Plague?"

"Ivy's right. Stop speaking in riddles," Thane snaps, planting his palms on the table in front of Plague. "What. Did. You. Do?"

But Plague ignores Thane. Instead, he looks at me. Really looks at me. "Nothing bad. Not for any of you, anyway." He pauses, the ghost of a smile curving his lips as he steadily meets my gaze. "You can trust me on that, at least, can't you?"

His question hangs in the air. I can feel the others' gazes on me, waiting for my response. The tension in the train car is thick enough to choke on.

Thane growls low in his throat. I can see the muscles in his jaw clenching as he grinds his teeth, clearly fighting the urge to grab Plague by the throat and shake the answers out of him.

I keep watching Plague, searching his face for any sign of deception. His usual defensive walls are slipping as I watch him, revealing a vulnerability I've never seen before. There's something raw and desperate in his gaze. A plea for me to believe him.

"Yes," I say softly, surprising even myself. "I do."

My words seem to echo in the sudden silence that falls over the compartment. I can practically feel the shock radiating from the other alphas. Wraith's arms tighten around me, a questioning rumble building in his chest. But I keep my eyes locked on Plague, watching as relief flickers across his features before he schools his expression back into careful neutrality.

"Ivy, what the fuck?" Whiskey sputters, breaking the tense silence. "He's clearly hiding something. How can you trust?—"

"Because I have to," I cut him off, my voice stronger now. I tear my gaze away from Plague to look at each of the alphas in turn. Each of my alphas. "We all have to. We're a pack, remember? If we can't trust each other, what do we have?"

Thane straightens, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he glares down at Plague. "Trust goes both ways," he growls. "If you expect us to follow you blindly into whatever mess you've gotten us into, you need to give us something ."

I can see the conflict warring in Plague's eyes. He opens his mouth, then closes it again, clearly struggling to find the right words. His fingers drum an agitated rhythm on the polished wood of the table, a nervous tic I've never seen from him before.

"I have... connections in Surhiira," he says with a resigned sigh. "And that's all I'm willing to say."

I expect Thane to push harder, but to my surprise, he just nods curtly. It's not much, but it's something. A foundation we can build on, maybe.

Whiskey's face flushes red as he gesticulates wildly. "Why the hell didn't you just tell us it was 'connections'?" he demands, his voice rising with each word. "That's a hell of a lot less fucking ominous than all your cryptic bullshit!"

I wince at his volume and Wraith's low growl vibrates through me, a warning to Whiskey to keep his voice down. We may be in a private compartment, but who the hell knows what kind of surveillance might be in place here?

Valek's silver eyes glitter. "Yes, how very interesting," he drawls. "Connections in Surhiira, you say? That's quite the feat, considering Surhiirans don't have connections with anyone ."

The effect is instantaneous.

Three alpha voices ring out in perfect unison.

"No one asked you!"

I can't help the startled laugh that bubbles up from my chest. The sheer absurdity of the moment—all of them united, if only in their annoyance at Valek—breaks through some of the tension that's been choking us.

Valek, for his part, just grins that Cheshire cat grin of his and takes another delicate sip of his wine. "Just making an observation," he says airily. "No need to get your dicks in a twist."

Whiskey growls, taking a menacing step toward the white-haired alpha. "I'll twist your fucking neck if you don't shut up."

"Enough," Thane snaps, though there's less heat in his voice now. He pinches the bridge of his nose, looking for all the world like a long-suffering parent dealing with squabbling children. "We're all on edge, but fighting amongst ourselves won't do any good."

I nod in agreement, grateful for his levelheadedness. "Yeah. We need to stick together, now more than ever."

My words seem to have a calming effect on the alphas. Whiskey's shoulders slump as he drops back into his seat with a huff. Plague's fingers stop their nervous tapping on the table. Even Wraith's arms loosen further around me, though he keeps me firmly in his lap.

The silence that falls over us is still tense, but less suffocating than before. I take the opportunity to really look at each of them, these broken, beautiful men who have somehow become my family.

They're all watching me now, waiting to see what I'll do. The realization hits me like a physical blow. When did I become the one they look to? When did my opinion start to matter more than hashing things out with orders, barks, and fights?

I take a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. "Look," I start, my voice steadier than I feel. "I know we're all scared and confused. But Plague got us passage on this train when we had no other options. Whatever his reasons, whatever his connections... he did it to keep us safe."

Plague's eyes widen fractionally at my words.

I press on before he can interrupt.

"I'm not saying we shouldn't be cautious," I continue. "But maybe we can try to trust each other a little more? At least until we reach Surhiira. Then we can regroup and figure out our next steps. It's not like we had a choice, right?"

The alphas exchange glances, a silent communication passing between them. Finally, Thane nods.

"Alright," he says gruffly. "We'll do it your way, Ivy. But ," he adds, fixing Plague with a hard stare, "if anything goes sideways, your ass is on the line."

Plague inclines his head slightly. It's not quite agreement, but it's not outright refusal either.

I finish my croissant and sag back against Wraith's chest. His arms tighten around me again, but this time it's comforting rather than protective. I let my eyes drift closed for a moment, suddenly exhausted.

The gentle sway of the train and the warmth of Wraith's body threaten to lull me to sleep. But there's still so much uncertainty ahead of us.

So many questions left unanswered.