Chapter 12

Chapter

Twelve

PLAGUE

T he Chateau looms before us, the familiar concrete and steel both welcoming and imposing in the fading golden light. I glance over at Valek. His eyes are hidden behind his executioner's mask, but I can sense the anticipation radiating off him.

He can try to play it cool all he likes. But I know him too well.

It's been a long damn time since any of us had something to go home to. Something more than just the assortment of concrete and steel outbuildings. But even though the base looks the same, it's different this time.

Our omega is here.

I take a deep breath, the filtered air hissing through my mask as I watch Thane and Ivy emerge from the garden. Even from this distance, her presence tugs at something deep within me, a longing I've never known before. It's almost painful, the way my heart constricts at the sight of her. This wild, untamed omega who has somehow managed to burrow under my skin.

I want nothing more than to stride over there, to gather her into my arms and hold her close, to breathe in that honeysuckle scent and let it wash over me like a balm. But I know better. Ivy is skittish, wary, especially after the intensity of her heat. I can still feel the echoes of it thrumming through my veins, the primal need that had nearly consumed me.

She's like a feral kitten, just as Whiskey says. One wrong move, one too-quick gesture, and she'll bolt, disappearing into the shadows of the Chateau. I have to be careful, to approach her slowly—gently—no matter how much my instincts scream at me to claim her, to make her mine.

Even Valek seems to know that instinctively.

I watch as she walks alongside Thane, her steps measured, cautious. She keeps a careful distance between them, her body language guarded. It's a stark contrast to the way she was with me during her heat, when she'd pressed against me, her skin warm and soft, her scent enveloping me like a cocoon.

The memory sends a shudder through me, and I have to clench my fists to keep from reaching for her. I want to feel that again, that connection, that sense of rightness that had settled over me when she was in my arms.

But I know it's too soon, too much.

Ivy glances in my direction, her blue eyes piercing even from across the courtyard. For a moment, I swear I see a flicker of something in their depths, a hint of the warmth I'd glimpsed during our time together. But it's gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that wary reserve that seems to be her default.

I nod to her, a small, subtle gesture of acknowledgment. I don't expect her to respond, but to my surprise, she inclines her head ever so slightly in return. It's a tiny thing, barely noticeable, but it sends a thrill through me nonetheless.

I turn my attention back to Thane as he approaches, Ivy still at his side. "You're back," he says, his voice gruff but not unkind. "How did the mission go?"

I consider my response for a moment, weighing the information we'd gathered against the unpleasantness of the task. "Valek's contact was a cretin, as expected," I reply, my words muffled slightly by my mask. "But he was an informative one."

Beside me, Valek rolls his eyes, the movement just barely visible through the shadows of his hood. "There's a lot to discuss," he says, his tone impatient. "We should get the whole gang together."

Thane nods, his expression thoughtful. "I'll call a meeting," he decides, and with that, we all head inside, the heavy reinforced doors of the Chateau swinging shut behind us.

As we make our way through the dimly lit halls, I find myself acutely aware of Ivy's presence, the soft sound of her footsteps echoing in my ears. She walks a few paces behind Thane, her posture still guarded, but there's a certain ease to her movements now, a sense of familiarity with her surroundings.

It fills me with a strange sense of pride, knowing that she's starting to feel more at home here, with us. With me.

I don't doubt she'll try another escape, though, when she sees fit. But I'm pretty sure Thane would have mentioned it if she'd tried while we were away, so that's… progress .

We reach the main room, a large, open space with high ceilings and a massive fireplace dominating one wall. Whiskey looks up as we enter from where he's sprawled on the couch, a grin spreading across his face.

"Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," he drawls, his gaze locking on me. "I'm surprised you made it out there, what with the desert not havin' a handwashing station every five minutes and all."

I level a look at Whiskey, though he can't see it behind my mask. "I'm not the one who needs to worry about surviving in the desert," I retort, my voice a low rasp. "You'd die without your creature comforts."

"Yeah, whatever," he grunts.

I smirk behind my mask. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were worried."

Whiskey gets back on his feet, his bravado faltering for just a moment. "Worried? Nah, I ain't worried about nothin'," he insists, but there's a defensive edge to his voice. "I just wanna know who's gonna stitch our sorry asses back together if you croak out there in the desert. Ain't like we got a spare medic lyin' around."

I open my mouth to retort, but Valek cuts me off with a sharp gesture. "Enough," he growls, his accent thick with impatience. "We have more important things to discuss."

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to the imposing figure in the executioner's mask. Even Wraith, who slips into the room like a huge panther, is watching Valek. Normally, he's just staring off into space.

Actually, he's watching Ivy. His pale blue eyes only flick to Valek occasionally. And when he looks at Ivy, his gaze softens noticeably. More than it ever has. I didn't realize he was capable of looking at anyone that way.

Valek drops into a chair and leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. I can feel the intensity of his gaze even through the shadowed eye holes of his mask.

"The gun runner my contact connected us with confirmed our suspicions," he says, his voice low and grave. "The Council itself is responsible for the trafficking of omegas in the Outer Reaches."

A collective intake of breath fills the room, a mixture of shock and grim resignation. We'd all had our doubts, our nagging suspicions about the Council's true motives, but to hear it stated so plainly is still a blow to the others. One I've had hours to come to terms with, and I'm still simmering .

I glance over at Ivy, gauging her reaction. She sits perfectly still, her face an impassive mask as if none of this is news to her.

And I suppose it isn't. She would know the horrors of what alphas are capable of better than anyone.

"What else did you learn about the Council's involvement?" Thane demands, newly somber.

Valek nods, his fingers drumming restlessly against his thigh. "They're using the facilities as a front," he explains, his tone grim. "Omegas who are deemed 'undesirable' or 'irreparable' are shipped off and sold to the highest bidder."

"I could have told you that," Ivy mutters.

We all look at her, surprised she spoke up. She's usually quiet. It's a relief to know she feels like she can talk, even if the subject matter is something I wish she didn't have to think about.

Beside me, Thane lets out a low, angry growl, his hands curling into fists. "Fucking bastards."

I nod in agreement, my own anger simmering just beneath the surface. The Council has always claimed to have the best interests of omegas at heart, but it's becoming increasingly clear that their true motives are far more sinister.

And we're doing their dirty work .

Enabling them to continue to exist.

Letting them prey on the most vulnerable members of our society.

"We have to do something," I say, my voice tight. "We can't let them get away with this."

Valek nods, his expression grim. "Agreed," he says, his accent thick with resolve. "But we need to know who's pulling the strings behind the scenes."

"I think I can provide an answer to that question," Thane mutters, his voice rough with rage. "My father."

The room goes dead silent. Even Ivy's stoic mask falls away for a moment as she stares at him in shock.

Wraith's head snaps up, even though the big guy usually looks half dissociated during these meetings. Not that I can say I blame him. His eyes narrow, a low, dangerous growl rumbling in his chest.

My first instinct is to put myself between him and Ivy, who's directly between the two brothers. Judging from the way the others tense, the same idea occurs to them, too. But Ivy doesn't jolt or look afraid. If anything, there's concern in her gaze as she looks back at Wraith, like she's… worried about him.

Not afraid of him. Afraid for him .

Is it because he protected her through the night back on that mission? Or has something more transpired between them in our absence? That would sure as hell explain the way he's looking at her like she hung the damn moon.

The thought immediately fills me with fierce protectiveness and jealousy, but I know I don't have the right. Technically, Ivy is his omega as much as she is mine. But that doesn't mean my alpha nature likes the idea of a beast who pulverizes our enemies with his bare hands going anywhere near her.

For the first time, though, I see a glimmer of shame in Wraith's eyes as he looks away, collecting himself. Maybe he's more self-aware than I gave him credit for.

"We need to face the facts," Thane continues in an ominous tone. He takes out his device and pulls up an image, passing it over to Valek first.

I can tell from one look at Valek's face the contents of that image are shocking, to say the least. We knew General Hargrove had to be involved somehow, so what has Thane discovered that makes it so much more sinister?

"I hope it's just a fuckin' dick pic," Whiskey mutters, always trying to lighten the mood. It's how he deals with uncomfortable situations. Still annoying as fuck, but that knowledge makes me want to put a fist in his face a little less.

Only a little.

I take the phone from Valek, staring down at the image of a letter on the screen. As my eyes travel over the words, I feel a combination of disgust and rage I'm all too familiar with feeling toward my fellow alphas lately.

General Hargrove—Thane's father—is not only aware of the omega trade.

He's leading it.

I hand the phone to Whiskey, and as his eyes glance over the screen, all the humor drains from him. "Holy shit," he mutters.

Even he's not willing to crack a joke at that.

I watch as Thane takes the phone back from Whiskey, his expression grim and determined. It's a look I've seen on his face countless times before. Usually when we're about to embark on a mission that's as likely to kill us all as it is necessary.

But this time, it's different. This time, the enemy isn't some faceless insurgent or a rival pack. It's his own father, the man who raised him. The alpha who molded him into the alpha he is today.

I can't begin to imagine how that must feel.

Whiskey, ever the one to state the obvious, pipes up. "That letter's all the proof we need, ain't it?" he asks, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Thane shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. "No," he says, his voice low and controlled. "My father could just deny it. He'd say it's a forgery. And there's the fact that I got proof of it in the first place. They'll use that against us."

He's right, of course. The Council is nothing if not cunning, and they'll stop at nothing to protect their own interests. Even if it means throwing one of their own under the bus.

Even General Hargrove's own son.

"What good is evidence going to do when some of the most powerful alphas in Reinmich are implicated?" Valek asks, his accent thick with skepticism.

It's a good question. We all know the answer, even if none of us wants to say it out loud. The Council is untouchable. They always have been.

Thane is silent for a long moment, his gaze distant and unfocused. I can practically see the gears turning in his head as he weighs our options, trying to find a way out of this mess.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and somber.

"We'll wait for Valek's contact to get us proof," he says, his tone leaving no room for argument. "More info can't hurt, in any case. We need to know the full scope of what we're dealing with, and everyone who's involved. But we need to be prepared for the fact that it might not be enough to bring my father and the others responsible to justice."

Whiskey frowns, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What then?" he asks, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Thane's expression hardens, his eyes flashing. "If it's not," he growls, "then we're going to have to do what we do best. We're going to war."