Chapter 32: Ivy

Chapter

Thirty-Two

IVY

I keep my eyes downcast as we approach the VIP entrance, fighting every feral instinct screaming at me to bare my teeth at the alphas we pass. Their hungry gazes slide over me like oil, making my skin crawl beneath the silk of my gown.

But I can't react.

Can't show any sign that I'm anything other than a pampered, well-trained omega.

The neon sign above casts an eerie red glow over everything, making the shadows dance like living things. The stiletto crushing the wolf's head over and over burns into my retinas, an on-the-nose metaphor for what this place represents.

Power.

Dominance.

The strong crushing the weak.

Little do they know what kind of wolves they're letting through their door tonight.

My alphas move around me in perfect formation, a living shield between me and the rest of the world. Thane leads with that natural commanding presence that draws respect without trying. Plague and Whiskey flank me while Wraith and Valek bring up the rear.

We're all predators here.

Just better dressed than usual.

The bouncer is massive, his bald head gleaming under the red and purple neon lights. His face reminds me of a bulldog, all jowls and perpetual scowl. He barely glances up from his tablet as we approach, clearly used to dealing with the elite.

"Name?" he grunts, his voice like gravel.

"Adler pack," Thane replies smoothly. The false name rolls off his tongue with practiced ease. "We're expected."

My heart skips a beat as the bouncer doesn't say anything. But I keep my expression carefully neutral. A pampered omega wouldn't be worried about getting into a club. This is probably just another Tuesday night for them.

Then the bouncer nods. He doesn't even look at us properly, too bored or too jaded to care. "Go ahead."

The metal detector we pass through doesn't make a sound, thanks to our Surhiiran weapons. I can feel the weight of the carbon fiber blade strapped to my thigh beneath my dress.

Hopefully, I won't need to use it.

As we move past the bouncer, I catch snippets of conversation from the line. Wealthy alphas complaining about the wait, bragging about their latest conquests, discussing business deals worth more money than I can comprehend. Their voices drip with entitled arrogance that makes my skin crawl.

These are the people who think they own the world.

Who think they own people like me.

The urge to show them exactly how wrong they are burns in my chest, but I swallow it down. Tonight isn't about revenge. It's about gathering intelligence. About finding leverage we can use to tear down the corrupt system that enables all of this.

Still, it's hard not to imagine how satisfying it would be to see their shocked faces as a "helpless" omega takes a few more fingers.

We walk as a pack to a dressing room. The walls are lined with mirrors, their reflective surfaces multiplying our images infinitely in a way that makes my head spin. This feels like a dream. A bad one.

I catch Wraith tensing beside me, his massive frame going rigid at the sight of his reflection repeated over and over even though most of his scars are covered by the black scarf.

My chest tightens.

I bump affectionately against his arm, the only thing I can risk doing with the cameras on us. They're not even hidden. Every corner has one, red blinking lights and all.

He rumbles softly in response.

Thane pulls out the case containing our masks, his movements precise and controlled. "Remember," he says quietly, "once these go on, we're different people. We have to be."

I nod, accepting my white rabbit mask from him. The delicate gold filigree catches the low light, making the crimson flame designs around the eyes seem to dance. As I secure it in place, I catch my reflection in one of the mirrors.

The mask transforms me.

I look like I actually belong in this den of wealthy monsters. My wild auburn hair frames the mask perfectly, and the midnight blue gown hugs my curves in a way that speaks of privilege rather than survival.

I actually look like the pampered omega I'm pretending to be.

Around me, my alphas don their own masks.

Plague dons his black mask first, the tiny gems catching the light like stars in an endless void. It suits him perfectly. Elegant and mysterious, with just a hint of danger. The way the gems shimmer reminds me of the night sky over Surhiira.

Thane's stark white mask covers his eyes and the bridge of his nose, somehow making him look even more striking than usual. It's simple but commanding, drawing attention while revealing nothing. Just like him.

Valek's iridescent snake mask catches the light as he adjusts it, the scales seeming to shift and move. "Now thisss is more like it," he purrs, drawing out the 's' sound deliberately.

"Really?" Plague asks dryly.

"What? I'm getting into character."

I turn to help Wraith with his jet black wolf mask, but he's already securing it in place, keeping his eyes locked on the floor instead of the mirrors. The smooth, angular features of his mask cover his scars and sharp teeth completely. It's fitting. He looks like a regal werewolf.

"You look amazing," I tell him softly.

His blue eyes meet mine through the mask's eye holes, and I can see some of the tension leaving his shoulders.

He signs back to me. So do you.

"If we're all done admiring ourselves," Thane says, though his voice is gentle, "we should get moving."

"Let's rock," says Whiskey. He seems to be having the most fun with all this, grinning beneath his demonic bull mask despite the tension settling over us like a storm cloud.

Maybe I was wrong.

We're not wolves in sheep's clothing.

We're wolves in wolves ' clothing.

I square my shoulders in the mirror.

Time to play my part.

The dressing room opens into a dimly lit corridor lined with black marble. Our footsteps echo off the polished stone as we make our way deeper into the club. The bass from the main room thrums through the floor, vibrating in my bones.

I keep my gaze lowered, but I'm aware of everything around us to the point the hair on the back of my neck is prickling. The cameras hidden in the ornate light fixtures. The armed guards with loose posture despite their suits and the assault rifles strapped to their chests. The emergency exits marked in glowing red.

Old habits die hard.

Whiskey's bulk shields me from view as another group passes, their raucous laughter bouncing off the walls. Wraith's low growl is barely audible over the music, but I feel it in my chest.

They're all as on edge as I am.

Maybe I'm just better at hiding it.

We reach another set of doors, these ones manned by two more guards in suits. They give us a cursory once-over before stepping aside. The doors swing open, releasing a wave of sound and scents that nearly overwhelm me.

The Alpha's Alpha assaults my senses as we step inside. Pulsing music vibrates through my bones while strobe lights paint everything in harsh neon colors. The massive central stage dominates the main floor, where performers in elaborate costumes writhe to the thundering beat. Multiple levels rise above us like circles of hell, each one promising more exclusive forms of entertainment. Private booths line the walls, their thin curtains doing little to hide what's happening behind them.

Then the scents hit me, making my ears ring. They're all blending together in a disgusting bouquet. Fruity vape steam, expensive perfumes, and the tangy stench of sweat and arousal. Blanketing it all is a sweet, artificial stench that almost smells like bubble gum, and when I look up, I spot fog coming from the air ducts, highlighted by the pulsing lights.

And everywhere I look, there are alphas.

All of them searching for their next thrill, their next conquest.

None of them suspecting that the real predators just walked through their door.

We're in.

Now the real hunt begins.

"What is that smell?" I mutter to Plague as we move deeper into the club, keeping my voice low. He seems like he'd know more than anyone else.

He leans in close. "Specialized pheromone-masking incense," he explains quietly. "They're pumping it in through the ventilation system."

"Why?" I ask, though I'm not sure I want to know the answer.

"It serves two purposes," he continues as we make our way toward one of the private booths. "First, it heightens arousal. Makes everyone more... receptive. But more importantly, it prevents alphas from catching an omega scent that makes them lose their minds."

My eyes widen behind my rabbit mask. "You mean..."

"Can't have an alpha becoming obsessed with a specific omega's scent in a place like this," Whiskey chimes in with a low chuckle. "Would make things real fuckin' messy, real fuckin' quick."

"Convenient," I say dryly, watching as a clearly drunk male alpha stumbles past with two female alphas flanking him, decked out in leather from head to toe. An omega in an elaborate peacock costume dances in a nearby crystal cage, her movements almost hypnotic as alphas teem beneath her.

"Hey, I ain't complaining," Whiskey mutters. "Last thing we need is some rich asshole thinking he's found true love in the middle of all this."

He's right, of course. The artificial sweetness might make my nose itch, but it's probably the only thing preventing an all-out war in here. I've seen what happens when alphas get territorial over omegas they think belong to them.

As we pass one of the premium private rooms with its curtains partially open, Valek freezes, his entire body going rigid as he stares into the room. The other alphas follow his sharp gaze.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Plague growls.

There, lounging on plush velvet cushions in all his foppish glory, is a lean alpha with a mane of blond hair and a mask that resembles a golden raven's face. He's draped across the lap of a massive male alpha with a gilded bear mask that suits him well, while a voluptuous omega with flowing dark hair and a swan mask feeds him grapes as he rests his head on her soft belly and thighs.

"Well," Valek drawls. "This is... unexpected."

He looks up sharply at the sound of Valek's voice, shock flicking across what I can see of his features beneath his mask.

"Darlings," he croaks. "So glad you see you, so very… alive . I was worried when I heard the Council put out a bounty on your heads." His gaze drifts over to me, a hint of curiosity and admiration glinting there. I don't like that at all, regardless of the fact he looks like a beautiful fallen angel. "And the little omega. No wonder they specified they wanted you unharmed."

Wraith growls possessively against my back, and the others close ranks around me.

"Yes, I'm sure you were worried sick," Plague says in a monotone.

I watch as the alpha extricates himself from the tangle of limbs with surprising grace, leaving his companions to turn to each other in his absence. He ties the sash of his silky white robe over his toned abdomen, but the thin fabric still leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination.

"In any case, you're here. Better late than never," he purrs, straightening his clothes. "I must say, you clean up rather nicely." He gestures around at the decadent surroundings. "Welcome to my den of iniquity."

"You own this place?" Valek snarls, his silver eyes flashing dangerously behind his snake mask.

"Who is that?" I whisper to Plague.

"Raven," Plague replies, his voice dripping with disdain. "Our informant."

Raven's lips curve into a smug smirk that immediately shoots him toward the top of my list of my least favorite people. "Of course I do. How else do you think I get such reliable intelligence? People tend to... loosen up in establishments like this."

My alphas are so tense, I'm starting to worry all hell is about to break loose. Valek's nails dig into his palms, and I know he's calculating how quickly he could cross the space between them. How many seconds it would take to wrap those hands around Raven's throat and throttle him to death.

"You lying snake," Valek hisses, taking a menacing step forward. "All that time playing the innocent informant?—"

"Ah ah," Raven tuts, waggling a finger. "I'd think very carefully about your next move. See those gentlemen by the bar? And those lovely ladies near the stage? Not to mention the dozens more you can't see..." He smiles, all teeth. "They're not just here for the ambiance."

I scan the room, noting the strategically placed guards he's pointing out. They're all watching us now, hands hovering near concealed weapons.

"You're surrounded," Raven continues pleasantly. "And while I'm sure you could take quite a few of them down, it would rather defeat the purpose of your little infiltration, wouldn't it?"

Thane's hand shoots out, grabbing Valek's arm before he can lunge. "Stand down," he growls.

"Besides," Raven adds, examining his perfectly manicured nails, "I delivered exactly what I promised, didn't I? The information about dear Monty was quite accurate."

"I should gut you where you stand," Valek spits.

"But you won't," Raven says with infuriating confidence. "Because you need me. And because killing me would bring this entire operation crashing down around your ears before you've even started. You're late, you know. An entire week late."

"We got sidetracked," Thane growls with a pointed glance at Valek.

Raven smiles. "I take it I'm not the only snake in your midst, then?"

Wraith lets out a low, constant growl.

I watch the silent war playing out between them.

But Raven's right.

We can't afford to blow our cover now.

Not when we're so close.

"Besides," Raven continues. "If I wanted to double cross you, do you really think you would have made it through those doors unscathed? You're quite obvious, even in your disguises."

That earns a low growl of grudging acknowledgment from the others.

"Where is he?" Thane asks, his voice tight with barely contained rage.

Raven's smile widens. "Top floor, private room three. Like I said, he's nothing if not punctual. Unlike you . Creature of habit, our Monty." He leans in conspiratorially. "And between you and me, he has quite... specific tastes. The kind that make him particularly vulnerable to blackmail."

"If you're lying…" Valek starts, but Raven cuts him off with a laugh.

"Please. What would I gain from that?" He waves a dismissive hand. "I'm a businessman. Information is my currency, and I always deliver quality goods." His eyes glitter behind his ornate mask. "Besides, watching you lot tear down the Council piece by piece is far more entertaining than any show I could put on here."

I feel Plague tense beside me. "And what happens after we leave?" he asks carefully. "What's to stop you from warning them?"

"My sweet summer child," Raven drawls, "if I wanted to warn them, they'd already know you were here. No, I much prefer watching the chaos unfold from a safe distance." He glances at his wrist, checking an elaborate gold watch. "Speaking of which, you might want to hurry. Monty tends to... finish his business rather quickly, if you catch my meaning."

Thane's jaw clenches, but he nods curtly. "Let's move," he says to us, already steering our group toward the spiral staircase leading to the upper levels.

"Oh, and one more thing," Raven calls after us. When we turn back, his expression has lost some of its playful edge. "Do try not to kill too many of my employees, won't you? Good help is so hard to find these days."

I catch one last glimpse of him as we move away. He's already heading back to his private room, where the alpha and omega wait for him on their plush cushions.

Just another night of debauchery for him.

But for us, everything hangs in the balance.

As we climb the stairs, I can't shake the feeling that we're walking into something bigger than any of us realized. But there's no turning back now.

It's time to catch ourselves a Council member.