Chapter 41: Plague

Chapter

Forty-One

PLAGUE

T he acrid stench of cheap greasy food and Vrissian alcohol still lingers in my nostrils as we make our way back to the base. My mind races, struggling to process everything that just transpired in that dingy shithole of a bar.

We got what we wanted, but walking away from any meeting with Nikolai makes it difficult to feel like a victory. And we have no time to recover now before I have to go negotiate his release.

The possibility that Azarel is alive sends a jolt through me every time I let myself consider it. But hope is a dangerous thing, especially out here in the Outer Reaches.

I can't afford to let it cloud my judgment.

And there's still the chance he'll want to put a dagger through my heart the moment we meet. But that was always a risk at family functions.

As we enter the main chamber of our temporary base, the pristine white marble walls feel almost obscene after the grime of that bar. The others file in behind me, their faces a mix of exhaustion, excitement, and wariness. Ivy perches on the edge of the sofa, still ready to leap up at a moment's notice, and Wraith hovers behind her, a giant shadow.

Soon, I promise myself, there will come a day when she doesn't have to live on edge all the time, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

And that hinges on bringing Azarel home.

"Alright," Thane's deep voice cuts through the silence. "Let's go over what we know."

I take a deep breath, forcing myself to focus. "As we were leaving, the messenger gave me a few more details. She said the negotiator from Reinmich will only meet us on neutral ground. And..." I hesitate, knowing how this next part will be received. "They'll only allow one guard."

The reaction is immediate. Thane's eyes narrow dangerously, his massive frame going rigid. "That's complete bullshit," he growls.

I find my own temper flaring. "You think I don't know that?" I hiss, my carefully maintained composure cracking. "We don't have a choice."

"The human corndog is right, bro," Whiskey mutters, scratching his stubbled jaw. "It could be a trap."

Thane's head snaps toward him, eyes flashing. Valek barks out a harsh laugh, and I have to resist the urge to throw something at him.

Whiskey, seemingly oblivious to the dangerous territory he's treading, clarifies. "I mean, on account of how you've got a stick up your ass and all."

"Yes, I got the reference," Thane snaps, his voice dripping with barely contained rage.

A lopsided grin spreads across Whiskey's face, and I find myself wondering, not for the first time, if he has a death wish. "Can't take all the credit. Valek gave me the idea."

Valek's silver eyes widen, and he holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "No, no," he says quickly, a note of irritation creeping into his voice. "All credit belongs to you."

I pinch the bridge of my nose, feeling a headache building behind my eyes. "Can we please focus?" I grit out. "This isn't a joke. My brother's life could be at stake."

The room falls silent at that, and I feel a pang of guilt for using Azarel as leverage.

But it's true.

If there's even a chance he's alive, I have to take it.

Especially since whatever he's learned during his time in Reinmich is our key to getting in there without getting ourselves killed.

"Look," I continue, forcing my voice to remain steady. "I know it's risky. But this might be our only shot at getting some real intel on what's happening inside Reinmich. Not to mention..." I trail off, unable to finish the thought.

"Not to mention getting your brother back," Ivy finishes softly.

I nod, swallowing hard against the lump in my throat. "Yes."

I take a deep breath, trying to maintain my composure. "It has to be me. I'll go alone if I have to."

"Like hell you will," Whiskey growls, stepping forward. "I'm going as your guard."

"That's not—" I start to protest, but Ivy cuts me off.

"So am I," she says firmly, rising from her perch on the sofa.

"Oh, hell no, you're not," says Whiskey.

I stare at her. "They specified one guard."

Even Wraith, who's always the first to do whatever Ivy wants, growls softly in concern and signs something to her I don't quite catch.

"They won't see me as a threat," she points out, her eyes flashing with determination. "I'm just an omega, remember? Their prejudice works in our favor. I can be an extra weapon they won't expect."

"Absolutely not," I say, even as part of me admires her logic. "It's too dangerous."

"We're a pack," she says simply. "If you're choosing to do this, so am I."

I close my eyes, taking another deep breath. You can do this, I tell myself. You have evolved. You're not the same alpha you used to be.

When I open my eyes again, Ivy is watching me with a mixture of challenge and hope in her gaze. To everyone's visible surprise—including my own—I find myself nodding.

"Fine," I say grudgingly. "But we do this smart."

Whiskey grunts, crossing his massive arms over his padded stomach. "She does have more places to hide weapons," he mutters.

Thane does a double take, his dark eyes narrowing suspiciously. "Where the fuck are you hiding weapons?"

Whiskey flips him off. "Nothing goes in my ass, if that's what you're getting at," he says, giving me a pointed look. " Nothing , bro."

I roll my eyes. "We don't have time for this," I say tersely. "The messenger said they want to meet at dawn. We need to move."

"Where's the meeting point?" Thane asks, clearly trying to steer us back on track even though it's like herding cats. Cats with rabies.

"An abandoned church in the neutral zone," I reply, grateful for the change of subject. "It's about two hours from here."

"Perfect place for an ambush," Whiskey mutters.

"Which is why we need to be prepared for anything," I say, already moving toward the door. "Get your gear. We leave in ten minutes."

As the others disperse to prepare, I catch Ivy watching me with an unreadable expression.

"What?" I ask, going to her.

"Nothing," she says, a small smile playing at her lips. "Just... you've changed."

I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to Ivy's lips. Her words warm something in my chest I thought had frozen over years ago. "You should change into something they won't recognize you in," I murmur. "Something that won't draw attention."

She nods, breaking away. I don't miss the fact that she stops by Wraith, leaning up to whisper something in his ear. His hands move quickly in response, too quickly for me to make out more than a few words, but I catch one part.

Be careful. Please.

And then he folds down his middle and ring finger to his palm, his index and little fingers sticking up, thumb out. I don't know sign language all that well, since it's only recently Wraith has been communicative with us beyond simple gestures and growls, but I know what that sign is.

I love you.

Ivy signs it back to him with a soft smile and he bends down to lean into her hand affectionately. She stands up on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his jaws through his scarf.

The sight of Wraith and Ivy's tender exchange makes my heart clench painfully in my chest. This simple gesture contains more raw emotion than I normally allow myself to feel.

Should I tell her too?

Should we all tell her we love her?

That she's not only saved us, she's given us something worth dying for?

Worth living for.

Everything is barreling toward its inevitable conclusion. The proverbial shit is about to hit the fan in spectacular fashion. It's all coming to a boiling point. And I know with absolute certainty that every single one of us would die to keep her safe.

And some of us might.

It's likely, even.

But fear holds my tongue. I remember all too clearly how she told me in no uncertain terms that love wasn't something she was interested in, not long before Valek's betrayal sent everything spiraling into chaos. It feels like it's been an eternity since that conversation, but it really hasn't been long at all.

And she might never be ready.

She might never even be ready for our marks.

Or has that changed?

Now that she's chosen to stay with us, now that she's embraced being part of our pack... does she feel differently? Or would telling her now just add another burden to her shoulders? Make her feel pressured to reciprocate feelings she might not be ready for?

I don't know.

But now, I have even more on my mind.

And I'm not the only one. Valek is hovering around near the door, looking like there's something he very much wants to tell her, but he holds himself back.

For once.

I suppose if even he knows it's not the right time…

Ten minutes later, we're heading out. Ivy looks like any other Surhiiran traveler in her long hooded cloak, concealing her fiery red hair, the white fabric edged in delicate gold filigree. The style suits her, though I can tell she's not entirely comfortable with how formal it is.

"You sure about this?" Whiskey asks as we make our way to the vehicle we'll be taking. It's simple, but armored. "I mean, your track record with family reunions isn't exactly stellar."

I shoot him a withering look. "And your track record with tact is nonexistent."

"Just saying," he grumbles, but there's no real heat in it. He stops to open the passenger door for Ivy, and she places her smaller hand in his massive one, letting him help her up into the front of the vehicle. He hauls himself into the back seat after, setting into the middle where he can drive us nuts the whole time we drive. I already know that's exactly what he's going to do.

I take the wheel and waste no time putting distance between us and the base once everyone is in. I notice Ivy's barely contained excitement as she looks out the window, eagerly drinking in the scenery that passes.

She's always been like this.

Drawn to adventure no matter the risk.

It would be concerning if it wasn't so endearing.

"Would you stop that?" I growl, swatting away the big meaty hand that keeps reaching between the seats to fiddle with the dials on the control panel. "I'm trying to drive."

"Just wanted to put on some tunes," Whiskey argues, leaning forward to fill the space between our seats. "How long before we get there?"

"Long enough," I snap. "And it'll be longer when I dump your ass out and make you follow us on foot."

Ivy snickers.

"Yeah, yeah," Whiskey grumbles, remaining where he is, crowding our space, but at least he stops mashing the buttons. "This thing's ritzy."

His and Ivy's conversation about the vehicle fades into the background as I find myself glancing constantly in the rearview mirror. The back of my neck prickles with unease. Someone's watching us, following from a distance.

I'm certain of it.

But when I scan our surroundings, I see nothing.

Not Wraith, he's too massive to hide effectively. Not Thane either. For all his talents, stealth isn't one of them.

Valek, then.

My immediate response is tempered by the knowledge that Thane must have sent him as backup. He wouldn't have gotten through the door otherwise. He is the best sniper among us, and if I can barely detect his presence, our contact from Reinmich won't notice him, either.

Might not be the worst idea.

"What's wrong?" Ivy asks, noticing my distraction.

"Nothing," I say, deciding to keep Valek's presence to myself. If I can't spot him, he's doing his job right.

Whiskey snorts. "You're acting as weird as Val," he says, as if he can read my mind. I fucking hope not. "But at least he's got an excuse with all those head injuries. And bein' horny as fuck." He glances at Ivy with a teasing grin. "You planning on making him explode as revenge or what?"

Ivy blushes beneath her hood, mumbling, "I'm not interested in revenge."

"Wouldn't blame you if you were," Whiskey says with a snort.

"He's pack," Ivy says, looking out the window. "I'm going to forgive him. He just needs to work for it and prove he's changed."

"If that's what you want, we'll all find a way to deal," Whiskey agrees, but I catch the slight relief in his tone.

Whiskey and Valek are constantly at each other's throats, but there's genuine affection beneath all the bickering.

Like brothers.

And sometimes, your brother is the person you want to kill the most.

"Got another question," Whiskey says, making me wonder if it's actually possible to want to kill anyone more than I want to kill him right now. Affectionately, of course. "Do you think the Knight was heading toward Surhiira for a reason?"

"What do you mean?" I mutter.

"Yes," Ivy says with conviction. "He was looking for Cosima."

Oh, for fuck's sake. Now it's both of them.

"Exactly what I'm thinkin," Whiskey says with all the enthusiasm of a conspiracy theorist who's just found his people. "You think he is who she's seeing in her dreams? Maybe he's all Wraithy under the mask." He gestures to his own face. "Maybe she isn't nuts and they've got some kind of psychic bond."

"There's no such thing," I say tersely to him, gripping the wheel harder.

"If she's dreaming about him, maybe he's dreaming about her, too," says Ivy, ignoring me. "Maybe he's following her because he's caught her scent in a dream. Maybe he thinks she's his mate."

The vehicle goes completely silent for a moment, because even I don't have an immediate answer for that, before Whiskey laughs and leans back hard enough to make the car shake. "Nahhhh."

"He is an alpha," Ivy points out.

Whiskey leans forward again, his elbows on his knees. "Wait, you're serious, wildcat? You think…?" His face goes a few shades paler. "Bro, if he really is coming for her, we are all so fucked."

"Even if he were," I say through my teeth, annoyed by the entirely illogical direction the conversation is heading in, "Nikolai has him in a pit right now."

"For now," Whiskey says pointedly. "A pit wouldn't be enough to keep me away from Ivy and I ain't even a sick-ass mutant."

I sigh. "We're here."

Finally.

The abandoned church where the fateful meeting is taking place looms before us through the pre-dawn mist, its broken spires jutting up from the crumbling stone like the gnarled fingers of a corpse clawing its way out of the earth. Gothic arches, their edges worn smooth by decades of neglect, frame shattered stained glass windows that stare out at us like hollow eyes. The glass that remains catches the first weak rays of sunlight, casting sickly purple and red shadows across the weathered stone. Nature has begun to reclaim the building, thick vines crawling up the walls like veins on a dying body.

I ease the vehicle to a stop at the base of the crumbling steps. The wheels crunch over broken glass and debris, the sound unnaturally loud in the stillness. A rusted iron gate hangs askew from its hinges, creaking softly in the cold morning breeze.

"Well, this isn't creepy as fuck at all," Whiskey mutters from behind me.

I have to agree, though I keep the thought to myself. The building seems to radiate an aura of decay and abandonment that makes my skin crawl. Even the air feels thick with the weight of forgotten prayers and broken faith.

Ivy leans forward in her seat, studying the church with intense interest. Her ocean eyes catch what little light there is as she takes in every detail. "Those carvings around the door," she says softly. "They're Vrissian, aren't they?"

I nod, impressed by her observation. "This was built during the occupation, before the war. When Vrissia still had influence this far south." I point to the weathered inscriptions above the massive oak doors. "See how the letters are carved at an angle? That's traditional stonework."

"Fascinating," Whiskey drawls. "Maybe we can have a history lesson after we make sure this ain't a trap that's gonna get us all killed."

He's right, of course, but I can't help studying the magnificent feat of architecture more carefully now that we're here. A murder of crows takes flight from one of the broken spires as we exit the vehicle, their harsh cries echoing off the stone walls. It's exactly the kind of dramatic bullshit I'd expect from a Reinmich negotiator. They always have a flair for the theatrical.

Soon, we'll know if this is a legitimate exchange or an elaborate trap. Knowing our luck, it's probably both. But with Ivy's quiet strength beside me, Whiskey's irreverent humor keeping us sane, and my certainty Valek is watching over us from wherever he's perched...

Maybe we stand a chance.

And maybe I'll get my brother back.

Even if he tries to kill me.

"Stay in the car," I murmur to Ivy, slipping out before she has the chance to argue. I feel her scowling at the back of my head, though.

Whiskey drops out after me and he's uncharacteristically silent as we prowl around the grounds, looking for any sign of a trap.

Or the enemy lying in wait.

I scan the crumbling church grounds one final time, taking in every shadow and potential hiding spot. Movement catches my eye—a flash of white on the distant cliffs that vanishes as quickly as it appears. Valek. At least he picked a good vantage point.

"Notice anything strange?" I ask Whiskey, keeping my voice low.

He hesitates, looking around with exaggerated caution. "What, like a ghost?"

"No, you idiot," I snap. "Not a ghost." Though technically it is a Ghost, I think wryly. If Whiskey hasn't spotted Valek's position, that's actually a good sign. Means our enemies won't either.

"The snake's here, isn't he?" Whiskey mutters, tension evident in his broad shoulders as he looks around.

"Don't draw attention to him," I warn. "We might need the backup." I grab his arm before he can protest further. "If anything happens, take Ivy and head directly northwest. Valek will cover you."

Whiskey starts to argue but I'm already walking back to the car. "You can come out now," I call to Ivy.

She emerges gracefully, her white cloak catching the low light. Her widening eyes take in the abandoned church and overgrown grounds. "It feels peaceful," she murmurs.

"Yeah, well, you like spooky goth shit. Like Wraith," Whiskey quips, but his hand stays near his weapon.

"So do you," I point out.

He pauses, looking me over curiously. "Never thought of it that way. You do kinda give vampire vibes."

I roll my eyes. "Just shut up and watch the road."

We wait in tense silence as the sun crests the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and pink.

A glint of metal in the distance makes us all stiffen.

An armored black car approaching through the morning mist.

I position myself in front of Ivy instinctively, Whiskey moving to flank her other side. My eyes strain to see through the tinted windows, searching for any glimpse of my brother even though I know this is just a negotiation. He won't be here yet.

The car stops and a figure emerges that makes my hackles rise. He's clearly massive beneath the black cloak brushing the tops of his leather boots, taller and broader than every one of us except Wraith, with long black hair whipping violently in the wind. A black bandana covers most of his face, leaving only his eyes visible. It's not an uncommon choice in the Outer Reaches, but I'm sure it has as much to do with concealing his identity as the wind. The rising sun silhouettes him as he approaches, making it impossible to make out his features.

My hand drifts to my weapon, and I feel rather than see Whiskey and Ivy tensing behind me. The stranger's measured, purposeful stride is nothing short of predatory.

Something about his movements seems familiar, but I can't place why. My mind races through possibilities as he draws closer and confusion ricochets through me like a bullet.

He came alone?

This could still be a trap.

We all watch in silence as the massive figure comes to a stop before us.

"I thought I specified one guard," he calls out, and my blood runs cold.

That voice.

I can't place the vague accent, but…

I know that voice.

Before I can process what's happening, Whiskey lets out a snort. "You scared of a chick, bro?"

The figure goes utterly still, and I catch a glimpse of eyes flashing blue above the bandana as he stares at Ivy behind us.

Whiskey smirks, adding under his breath, "You should be."

I glance over at Ivy, noting how her hand remains hidden beneath her cloak. No doubt gripping that glass dagger she's grown so fond of. Her lips curve into a dangerous smile that matches Whiskey's.

The man takes another step forward, and we all tense. My heart pounds against my ribs as he reaches up, fingers catching the edge of his bandana. Time seems to slow as he pulls it away from his face, the fabric slipping away.

"Azarel?" I choke out.

My brother stares back at me.

He looks older than his years, and his face is harder than I remember as he looks at me with cold indifference. New scars mark his dark bronze skin.

But it's him.

He's alive.

And he has his hand on his gun.