Chapter 31: Thane

Chapter

Thirty-One

THANE

I watch as my pack files off the train, each of them moving with practiced grace despite their unfamiliar finery. The station is bustling with people, even at this hour, but they part around us like water around stones. We command attention without trying.

Exactly what we need.

Even if it sets my teeth on edge.

Ivy looks stunning in her midnight blue gown, drawing appreciative glances that make my hands itch for weapons. Plague and Whiskey flank her protectively while Valek drifts ahead, playing the part of an entitled aristocrat with unsettling ease.

But it's Wraith I need right now.

"A moment," I murmur to him as the others move toward the station exit. He turns those intense blue eyes on me, questioning.

Once the others are out of earshot, I face him fully. "If things go wrong in there," I say quietly, "your only job is to get Ivy out. No heroics. No revenge. Just grab her and run."

His brow furrows beneath his dark hair.

I meet his gaze steadily. "I've already talked with the others about this, but I wanted to make sure we had a one-on-one conversation. I trust you the most. You're my brother," I say roughly. "And I know you'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe."

Wraith is still for a long moment, his massive frame tense beneath the fine black suit. Finally, his hands move.

Always.

"I know you will." I hesitate before squeezing his shoulder. It's not really in my nature to be physically affectionate, but as we near the precipice of either victory or total destruction, it feels right. He blinks at me in surprise. "And, brother… keep yourself alive too. She needs you."

He looks away, but he nods stiffly.

We rejoin the others, who've stopped to wait for us near the station entrance. The neon lights of the city paint their faces in harsh reds and violets, so different from the soft glow of Surhiira. Above the urban sprawl, the animated sign for the Alpha's Alpha club dominates the skyline against the light of the full moon.

It's clearly the main attraction.

A massive stiletto heel grinding down on a snarling wolf's head in an endless loop. Every time it stomps down, the wolf's tongue lolls out and its eyes roll back into its head.

Subtle.

Then again, as garish as it is, its complete lack of subtlety is how I've been able to find as much information as I have, so who's complaining?

I can only hope Raven wasn't exaggerating when he said Monty Filch is punctual and predictable. Because of everything our resident snake just put us through, we missed the date he recommended. Having to bump it up to the following Tuesday is a risk, but now that we have a new base to return to, if he isn't here, we should be able to get the fuck out and try again some other time.

Theoretically, at least.

I hate that everything's up in the air like this.

My stomach churns as I take the lead and we make our way through the crowded streets. Every instinct screams that we're walking into a trap. That we should grab Ivy and run, find somewhere safe to hide.

But we can't.

For one thing, she'd never forgive us.

I force myself to breathe slowly, to project the calm confidence expected of a wealthy pack leader.

We've planned for every contingency.

We're as prepared as we can be.

But as I watch Ivy's fiery hair catch the neon lights, her small frame dwarfed by the alphas surrounding her, I can't shake the abject terror wrapping its claws around my heart, digging in, hissing that we're about to lose everything.

I just pray Wraith is fast enough if it comes to that.

I lead my pack through the neon-lit streets, keeping my stride measured and confident despite the dread. Around us, the city pulses with gaudy excess that barely covers the grime.

It's hard to resist the compulsion to scan for threats as I usually do. I have to be subtle. We're supposed to be wealthy alphas, not battle-hardened soldiers.

The distinction feels paper-thin.

"Look at this fuckin' place," Whiskey mutters beside me, tugging at his collar again. "Makes me wanna take a shower just walking through it."

"Stop fidgeting," Plague hisses. "You're drawing attention."

He's right. A few passersby are already giving us curious looks.

We need to blend in better.

This is dangerous enough with a marked omega, let alone one who's unmarked. She's wearing a spray to suppress her omega scent just enough that it isn't obvious we're trying to hide anything, but a few alphas are already glancing her way.

I didn't want to bring that up to Ivy before the mission. I was afraid she'd feel pressured into it. That she'd accept our marks just to keep us safe.

Protecting her doesn't just mean protecting her life. It's about protecting her autonomy, too.

And when— if —she lets us mark her, I want it to be special.

She deserves nothing less.

I catch movement out of the corner of my eye. A group of alphas stumbling out of a nearby bar, clearly drunk. Their gazes lock onto Ivy, nostrils flaring, and my hands clench inside my pockets.

Tonight's going to end with me ripping some spines out, isn't it?

But before I can react, Valek smoothly steps into their line of sight, his white suit gleaming under the neon lights. The casual menace in his posture makes them think better of whatever they were planning.

At least these ones are capable of using the head on their shoulders and not the head in their pants.

The Alpha's Alpha looms closer with each step, that grotesque neon sign casting twisted shadows across the street. My muscles tense as we approach the entrance, where a line of well-dressed guests stretches around the block. We're going to have to head straight for the VIP entrance.

This is the first real test.

Ivy touches my arm gently.

Reassuring me.

It takes everything I have to not return her touch.

To not be fucking obvious.