Chapter 35: Valek

Chapter

Thirty-Five

VALEK

I lean back in the plush velvet seat, watching the others tend to their wounds. The adrenaline is wearing off, leaving me oddly melancholy.

Not a feeling I'm used to.

And not one I particularly enjoy.

My eyes drift to Ivy as she fusses over the cut in the back of Thane's head from our captive omega's fierce attack. The way she touches him so gently, with such care... it makes something twist in my chest.

I really am feeling regret.

Regret that she may never touch me that way again.

I thought I was doing the right thing when I took her. Giving her the freedom to choose that was stolen from me in that sterile lab. But I was wrong.

So spectacularly, catastrophically wrong.

I'm not used to being wrong, either.

Lots of firsts for me lately.

I fold my arms over my chest and cross my legs, continuing to watch her from a distance I've carefully calculated. Close enough to satisfy my alpha urge to draw near to the little omega that pulls me in like a nail to a magnet, far enough away to make her comfortable with being in the same space.

This hurts.

Having to live with what I did.

Having to watch her with the others.

Having to sit with the full understanding and knowledge that I can likely never earn back what I destroyed.

"Stop brooding," Whiskey mutters, dropping into the seat beside me. Blood has dried on his face where the statue hit him. Doesn't look like the captive omega got in quite the hit she got in on Thane. "It's weird seeing you all... thoughtful and shit."

I bare my teeth in what might be a smile. "I am always thoughtful. I simply choose not to share those thoughts with idiots."

He snorts, but there's no real heat in it. We're all too exhausted for our usual barbing.

The unconscious omega lies on one of the benches, her silvery hair spilling across the velvet. Must be Vrissian, unless she dyed it. I thought I detected a slight accent when she was yelling, but there was so much chaos, it's hard to say for certain. Wraith hovers nearby, watching her with obvious wariness even though Plague gave her a sedative when she started to stir. There's really no way she's going anywhere anytime soon.

But who can blame him?

This omega got in more hits than the guards did.

Even got me in the balls.

I have to admire her spirit, even if I want to strangle her for it. I won't, if only because she's an omega, and that goes against my fucked up little creed that guides my decisions.

But I want to.

The train slows as we approach our new base and I glance out the window. It's set up within the walls of a Surhiiran mine, all white marble and gold filigree just like Surhiira proper. Guard towers disguised as elegant obelisks. Weapon emplacements hidden behind ornate sculptures.

It's entirely unnecessary.

And it's absolutely fucking magnificent.

"This is... excessive," Plague says flatly. "Sorry."

"It's badass," says Whiskey, letting out a low whistle.

I notice how Ivy's eyes widen slightly at the sight. How she unconsciously leans forward, drawn to the beauty in spite of herself.

I'm not the only one with good taste.

We're met at the private station by a contingent of guards in pristine white uniforms. They escort us through marble halls and down winding staircase after winding staircase to what can only be described as a dungeon, though it's the cleanest, most elegant dungeon I've ever seen.

There's even a fountain.

Wish my old cell had a fountain.

"Put her in there," Thane commands, gesturing to the cot. Even that's velvet.

Wraith lays the omega down with surprising gentleness, considering she tried to bash our heads in.

"How do we handle this?" Whiskey asks, turning to us. "Can't exactly torture an omega for information."

"I can," Ivy says.

We all turn to stare at her.

"What?" She crosses her arms. "You think I don't know how to get information out of someone? Besides, she's clearly not as helpless as she pretends to be."

"We're not torturing omegas," Thane mutters.

I lean back against the pristine white wall of the cell, watching the others debate what to do with our captive as if we can do anything but stand around with our thumbs up our asses.

She's an omega.

All we can really do is inconvenience her.

"She clearly knows something valuable, or Raven wouldn't have reacted that way when he saw her," says Plague.

"What was that about anyway?" Whiskey asks, pacing.

"He may have recognized her," I chime in. " Or he fell in love at first sight. We Vrissians are irresistible, after all."

"You think she's Vrissian?" Thane asks, frowning. "What would a Vrissian omega be doing with a beta from the Council?"

I shrug. "It would hardly be the first time an oligarch procured a pet from elsewhere."

"Yeah, a 'pet' he abandoned at the first sign of trouble," Whiskey snorts. "Far as I can tell, we gotta worry more about Raven comin' after the little psycho than Filch."

"There were scent suppressants being pumped in through the air vents," Thane muses, glancing at the sleeping omega. I can see the wheels turning behind those dark eyes, coming to the same suspicions plaguing the rest of us.

Everyone but Whiskey, at any rate. I doubt he has anything going on between his temples but a light breeze.

"I felt the air clear up when Whiskey broke the window," Ivy says thoughtfully. "Maybe that's when Raven noticed."

"Good point," I purr with an impressed smile.

She rolls her eyes, as if she thinks I'm being sarcastic. And I suppose I have only myself to blame for that, but nothing could be further from the truth.

She's always been clever.

Clever enough to want nothing to do with me.