Chapter 16

Chapter

Sixteen

IVY

T he heavy metal door clangs shut behind Wraith, Thane, and Plague, sealing me in with Whiskey and Valek. My stomach twists. I press my palms against the cold concrete wall, willing myself not to react. But my treacherous body betrays me. My heart races. My breath comes in short, sharp gasps.

Whiskey's at my side in an instant, his hand hovering near my shoulder but not quite touching. "Hey, you okay?"

I jerk away from him. "I'm fine."

He backs off, hands raised. "Alright, alright. Just checking." He glances at the door, then back at me. "They'll be back soon. No worries."

I growl low in my throat. "I don't care. "

Whiskey's lips quirk up in a half-smile. "Sure you don't." He claps his hands together. "So, what should we do while we wait? I've got a deck of cards. We could play Go Fish."

Valek snorts from his perch on a nearby crate. "Go Fish? What are we, children?"

"Got a better idea?" Whiskey challenges.

Valek's eyes gleam with mischief. "Oh, I can think of plenty of ways to pass the time." His gaze slides to me, then back to Whiskey with a wolfish grin. "I'm sure you wouldn't mind a bit of fun with the two of us."

Whiskey's brow furrows. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asks defensively, his eyes narrowing in clear suspicion.

Valek's grin widens. "Come now, Whiskey. We all see how you look at our dear doctor. Those longing glances, the way you hang on his every word..."

Whiskey's face flushes red. "Shut up, Valek. It's not like that."

"No?" Valek leans forward, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. "Then why do you always volunteer to assist him in the medical bay? Hoping for a... thorough examination?"

"Fuck off," Whiskey growls, but there's no real heat behind it. "I help out because someone has to make sure Plague doesn't poison us all."

Valek's eyes glitter with malicious glee as he leans forward. "Oh, come now, Whiskey. No need to be shy. We're all friends here." His gaze flicks to me, a predatory smile curling his lips. "Well, most of us."

I bare my teeth at him, a low growl rumbling in my chest. He just laughs, the sound grating against my nerves like sandpaper. Normally, he doesn't piss me off like this, but after he was such an asshole to Wraith, it's going to take time for me to look at him without thinking about crunching his pierced cock between my teeth.

Whiskey shifts his weight, clearly nervous. "Look, can we just drop it? This isn't?—"

"Not a chance," Valek interrupts, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "I'm curious now. What is it about our dear doctor that gets you so... how do you say it? 'Hot and bothered'?"

Whiskey's face flushes an even deeper shade of crimson. "It's not like that," he insists, but his voice wavers. "I respect Plague, that's all. He's smart, he's skilled?—"

"He's dangerous ," Valek purrs. "Admit it, that's what really gets you going. The thrill of playing with fire."

Whiskey's face is so red I half expect steam to start pouring from his ears. "For fuck's sake, Valek, drop it already!"

"Oh, but we're just getting to the good part," Valek purrs, his eyes glinting with malicious glee. "Tell me, when he checks your prostate, does he use his finger or his cock?"

"I swear to god, I'm gonna?—"

"What?" Valek taunts. "Run crying to Doctor Daddy? I'm sure he'd be more than happy to comfort you."

My head swivels back and forth between them like I'm watching some demented tennis match. What the hell is going on?

Valek's gaze suddenly snaps to me. "What about you, little omega? What's your take on all this?" he asks, amused.

I blink, caught off guard. "My take on what?"

He gestures at Whiskey with a lazy flick of his wrist. "On two of your alphas having a... shall we say, 'side arrangement'?"

I frown, genuinely confused. "What are you talking about?"

Valek's eyebrows shoot up in mock surprise. "Oh my, don't tell me you don't know?" He leans forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. " You see, when two alphas love each other very much?—"

"Shut the fuck up, Valek!" Whiskey snarls, taking a menacing stomp forward.

But Valek just laughs, clearly enjoying himself. "What's the matter, big boy? Afraid our little omega might get jealous?"

I shake my head, trying to make sense of what's happening. "I don't... alphas can't..." I trail off, unsure how to even finish that sentence.

"Let me guess… they told you alphas only mate with omegas? That it's all about breeding and continuing the bloodline?" Valek presses. "Alphas can and do fuck each other. And betas. Some even prefer it."

My jaw drops. "But... that's not possible. The pheromones…" I glance at Whiskey, but he's just staring blankly at Valek.

Valek's grin widens. "Oh, I assure you, I'm not. In fact, I'd be happy to give you a practical demonstration."

He leaps down from the crate, still stumbling a little from his well-deserved head injury, and swaggers over to Whiskey.

"What the fuck, bro?" Whiskey barks, backing up fast. His back hits the wall, his eyes wide in confusion.

"Come now, Whiskey," Valek purrs, pressing one hand against the wall next to the other alpha's head. "No need to be shy."

I blink rapidly, trying to process what I'm seeing as my mind reels. Everything I thought I knew about alphas and omegas is crumbling around me.

Whiskey swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Valek, come on. This isn't?—"

"Isn't what?" Valek purrs, leaning in closer until he's an inch from Whiskey's face, and I catch the barest hint of a shudder running through Whiskey's body. "Isn't natural ?" He pulls back, fixing Whiskey with a predatory grin. "But it feels natural for you, does it not? To want both omegas and alphas?"

Whiskey's pupils are blown wide, and there's a flush creeping up his neck that has nothing to do with embarrassment. "I... Valek, I don't…"

"Yes?" Valek prompts, his fingers slipping under Whiskey's shirt to caress his bare skin. Whiskey's hips buck forward involuntarily, a low groan escaping his lips as his stomach tenses at Valek's touch.

"Fuck," he breathes .

Valek chuckles, the sound dark and rich. "That's the idea."

My cheeks burn as I watch, unable to look away.

I don't want to look away.

Heat pools in my belly as I watch Valek's hand sliding lower, toying with the waistband of Whiskey's pants and his tactical belt. The bigger alpha's breath comes in short, sharp pants, his broad chest rising and falling rapidly, but he isn't making any move to stop Valek.

"Valek," Whiskey gasps, his voice rough as Valek's knuckles brush against his gut. "We shouldn't—" But his hips buck forward, seeking more contact. A low groan escapes him and the sound sends a jolt of electricity through my body.

"Fuck," he breathes.

I bite my lip and Valek chuckles, the sound dark and rich. "See? This is what they don't teach you. Alphas aren't just mindless breeding machines. We're not slaves to our biology any more than you are." He steps back, releasing Whiskey, who lets out a frustrated groan. Valek just laughs. "But we do know how to put on a good show."

Just like that, the spell is broken. Whiskey blinks, looking dazed and more than a little pissed off. "What the fuck, man? "

Valek shrugs, utterly unrepentant. "Just giving our omega a little sex education."

Whiskey rakes a hand through his damp hair, his face still flushed. "You're a fucking asshole, you know that?"

"So I've been told," Valek says cheerfully. "But I would be happy to provide a more... hands-on demonstration for our omega, if you insist. Unless, of course, you want to put on your own show with Plague?"

I swallow hard, hoping it's not obvious I kind of want to see that.

Whiskey glares at Valek, his jaw clenched tight. "I didn't know you had a thing for other alphas," he spits out. "Or that you had a thing for guys."

Valek's lips curl into a wicked smile. "Oh, no. Not at all. But if our little omega likes it, and I do not have to touch you…" He flicks his knife out of the sheath at his hip with a snikt sound and Whiskey jolts. But Valek just looks thoughtfully at the blade. "Although… perhaps a gun would be safer."

"Stay the fuck away from my ass, bro!" Whiskey barks, his voice cracking slightly.

Valek purrs. "Such fragile masculinity."

"Bro, you threatened to shove weapons up my ass! "

Valek sheaths his knife and lazily drops his lanky body into the recliner, his long limbs spilling over the armrests. "I never said a thing about your ass, bro. That was all you, bro. Son of a fuck, do you ever say anything else?"

"Where else would you fuckin' put 'em?" Whiskey demands.

"Places," Valek says simply.

"I'm gonna tell Plague to neuter you when he scans your head for brain damage," Whiskey mutters, going to the mini fridge for a can of beer. He drains most of it in one huge gulp and pours the rest of it on his head like it'll cool him off.

Valek barks a harsh laugh.

I sag against the wall, my legs suddenly weak. What the hell just happened? My heart races, my skin feels too tight, and there's a persistent ache between my thighs I desperately want to ignore.

I should be annoyed by the display of alpha dominance and aggression, but annoyance is definitely not on the list of confusing emotions and feelings running through my entire body right now.

Did all that… turn me on?

"You know, it's too bad," Valek says with a dramatic sigh. "I suppose we'll have to do something boring then. Like watch a movie." He looks over at me. "Have you ever seen a movie, little omega?"

Valek's question catches me off guard. I blink again, trying to process the abrupt shift in conversation. My mind is still reeling from what just happened.

"No," I say, my voice hoarse. I clear my throat. "Not since I was a kid, anyway. My mother and I..." I trail off, unsure if I want to share this memory. But something compels me to continue. "We watched a drive-in movie from the forest once. It was some cartoon with talking animals."

The memory flashes through my mind. Crouching in the underbrush with my mother, straining to hear the tinny dialogue from the ancient speakers. The flickering images on the massive screen, larger than life. We had shared a can of sweet corn together. It had seemed magical then.

Whiskey's face lights up. "Oh man, we gotta fix that! Let's watch Bros, Hoes, and Foes 3. Most culturally significant movie in the whole damn apocalypse."

Valek snorts. "It's not."

"It is!" Whiskey insists, more annoyed than he probably should be. "It's the last movie that was made where I'm from before civilization collapsed and everything went to shit." He pauses, a grin spreading across his face. " Plus , it's a feminist movie because the best character is a chick. Chicks can be bros and dudes can be hoes."

I raise an eyebrow, skeptical. But before I can voice my doubts, Whiskey's already fiddling with some ancient-looking black box hooked up to a battered screen. "I'll grab some blankets and snacks. We'll make this a proper movie night!"

As he leaves the room, Valek turns to me, gesturing at his recliner. "Take my seat, little omega. It's more comfortable than the floor, especially since we no longer have a couch thanks to our earlier... disagreement."

I glare at him, my jaw clenching. "I'd rather sit on broken glass."

Valek's eyebrows shoot up, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "My, my. Still upset about our little tussle earlier?"

"Yes. I am. You were cruel to Wraith for no reason."

The smirk fades from Valek's face. He watches me for an uncomfortably long time, his wicked grin and the flinty silver in his eyes softening with what seems strangely like remorse.

"Sorry. "

I blink, caught off guard. "What?"

Valek's face twists like he's bitten into something sour. The word seems to physically pain him as it grates past his lips. "I said I am sorry. Do not make me say it again."

I stare at him, waiting for the punchline, the cruel joke.

"Why?" I ask, suspicion coloring my tone.

He sighs, running a hand through his bone-white hair. "It's just… I'm not sure you know what you're getting into."

"Hey, the girl likes what she likes," Whiskey calls from the hall. I can hear him rummaging through the cabinets like a bear. "Maybe she's a monsterfucker."

I bristle at that. "He's not a monster."

Valek's eyes narrow, something dark flickering in their depths. "He is a monster," he mutters. "And the sooner you accept that, the better."

I glare at him, fury bubbling up inside me all over again. "You don't know shit about him."

"And you do?" Valek challenges, leaning forward. "Tell me, little omega, what do you really know about the most lethal Ghost in the pack?"

I open my mouth to argue, but the words die on my tongue. What do I know about Wraith? He's feral, like me. He tears enemy soldiers and guards apart like they're made of paper. I don't have to have seen him without his mask to know he's severely scarred beneath it. Maybe he doesn't even look human. But...

"None of that matters," I mumble. "He's not?—"

"You love him, don't you?"

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I jolt, staring at Valek with wide eyes. "What?"

Valek gives me a knowing smirk. "I can tell. It's the way you look when you defend him. The fierceness, the loyalty in your eyes."

I shake my head, trying to deny it, but my heart's racing so fast I can barely breathe. "No. That's… that's insane. I don't love anyone."

Valek leans back, studying me with those piercing eyes. "Is that why you haven't tried to flee?" Valek presses. "The real reason?"

My stomach twists. I look away, unable to meet his gaze. I don't know how I feel about anything anymore, or any of them. It's all so tangled up inside me, a mess of fear and anger and... something that scares the hell out of me. Something I promised myself I would never, ever feel, or even consider.

"I don't... I don't want to talk about this anymore," I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself. "I just don't want you to say that ever again. About Wraith being a… monster. It's not just stupid alpha banter, it's cruel. And it's not true. Even if it is, it's nothing he can help. Okay?"

Valek watches me for a long moment, his silver eyes unreadable. The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy. I shift uncomfortably under his gaze, fighting the urge to look away.

"I need to clear something up," he says finally, his voice low and serious.

I tense, bracing myself for another barbed comment or cruel joke. But there's something different in his tone, a gravity I'm not used to hearing from him.

"When I say Wraith is a monster?—"

"For fuck's sake, Valek! I told you to drop it!"

Valek holds up his palms in a placating gesture. "Let me finish," he says, his voice surprisingly gentle. "Please."

I clench my jaw, biting back the torrent of angry words threatening to spill out. After a moment, I give him a curt nod.

"When I say Wraith is a monster," Valek continues, his eyes never leaving mine, "I am not trying to be cruel. I am stating a fact. He is a killing machine, not fully human. You need to believe me—for your safety, if nothing else."

I scoff, crossing my arms over my chest. "How could you possibly know that? Thane's father found him in the forest, right? You don't know anything about where he came from or why he's the way he is."

When he just watches me soberly, I go on. "Actually, I don't think any of you know much about each other at all. Thane and Wraith grew up together as brothers, but the rest of you were all strangers before you became a pack, weren't you? I don't know anything about any of your histories. Oh, other than you being a freaking serial killer. "

He tilts his head slightly. "I thought you like that."

"Why would you think I like that?" I cry. "No! Can you take this seriously for five minutes?"

Valek's expression shifts, something dark and haunted flickering in his eyes. For a moment, I think he's going to defend himself, but instead, he looks away and gazes off into the distance, past the mountain range beyond the window that faces north.

"We may not know for certain, that is true," he says quietly. "But I suspect Wraith and I might share a common origin point. There are things in this world, little omega, that you can't even begin to imagine. Horrors beyond your wildest nightmares."

My anger falters, replaced by a cold knot of dread in the pit of my stomach. "What do you mean?"

Valek goes silent, his face a stony mask. The silence stretches on, growing more oppressive with each passing second. I can hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears, feel the cold sweat breaking out on the back of my neck.

"Valek," I press, my voice barely above a whisper. "What do you mean?"

Whiskey bursts abruptly back into the room, his arms laden with blankets, pillows, and an assortment of snacks.

"Movie night, bitches!" he crows, dumping his haul onto the floor.

The moment shatters and Valek's face shutters, that haunted look vanishing behind his usual mask of sardonic amusement. I bite back a frustrated growl. Whatever he was about to reveal, it's lost now.

Whiskey bustles around, arranging the blankets and pillows into a makeshift nest on the floor. The scent of butter and salt fills the air as he tears open a bag of popcorn. The smell hits me like a punch to the gut, dragging me back to that night in the forest with my mother. The tinny sound of cartoon animals, the flickering light from the drive-in screen, the sweet kernels of corn bursting between my teeth...

"Alright, your royal omega-ness," Whiskey says with a theatrical bow. "Your throne awaits."

I hesitate, eyeing the nest of blankets and pillows Whiskey's created on the floor. It looks soft, inviting even, but I'm on edge after the weird conversation I just had with Valek.

"Come on," Whiskey says, patting the space beside him.

Against my better judgment, I lower myself into the nest. The blankets are softer than I expected, and I can't help but sink into them a little. Whiskey grins triumphantly and plops down beside me, his bulk making the whole nest shift.

Before I can stop myself, I'm curling into his side. He's so strong, but his padded stomach is soft and warm, his body heat radiating through his shirt. I press closer, seeking that warmth, and tentatively rest my head on his chest.

Valek is being uncharacteristically quiet, his earlier playfulness replaced by a distant, almost brooding silence. I crane my neck to look at him, but his face is unreadable, his silver eyes fixed on some point far beyond the walls of this room.

A chill runs down my spine as I remember his words from earlier. There are things in this world, little omega, that you can't even begin to imagine. Horrors beyond your wildest nightmares.

What the hell did he mean by that?

And what does it have to do with Wraith?

"Alright, let's get this show on the road!" Whiskey's voice jolts me out of my thoughts. He fiddles with some kind of oversized remote, pointing it at the screen across the room. After a few moments of static, an image flickers to life.

The opening credits roll, accompanied by a twangy guitar riff that makes me wince. The title card appears: "brOS, HOES, AND FOES 3: THE RECKONING."

"What the hell kind of movie is this?" I mutter.

Whiskey grins, shoving a handful of buttery popcorn into his mouth. "Only the greatest cinematic masterpiece of the post-apocalyptic era," he says around his mouthful. "You're in for a treat, kiddo."

I grimace at the nickname but settle in to watch. The movie opens on a dusty road cutting through a sun-baked desert dotted with twisted metal and the ruins of a shelled-out city. A beat-up muscle car comes roaring into view, kicking up a cloud of sand behind it. The camera pans to reveal the driver, a muscular man with a leather jacket covered in spikes and a mullet that makes him look like a half-shaved lion. A cigar hangs off his chapped lips.

"That's Brick McSlam," Whiskey explains, his voice filled with reverence. "The biggest badass to ever live. In the first movie, he stood directly in the path of the very first nuke with our flag held high so it'd be the last thing the nuke saw. Really gave us all hope we'd win the war?—"

"Bombs cannot see," Valek cuts in.

"Shh," Whiskey hushes him. "Just watch."

"Shouldn't we start with the first movie?" I ask.

"Don't have it," Whiskey says. He gives me a squeeze. "But I'm gonna find it one day, when this is all over."

As the movie unfolds, I find myself torn between disbelief and a grudging fascination. It's ridiculous, over-the-top in a way that borders on parody. I actually get the feeling it might be a parody that just went over Whiskey's head. Brick McSlam and his crew of identical roided-up white guys with even more identical mullets facing up against scantily clad women who apparently couldn't find clothes that fit even though they had no trouble finding an improbable array of weapons.

The dialogue is atrocious, peppered with one-liners so cheesy they make me cringe. But there's something oddly compelling about it all, a manic energy that keeps me watching despite myself.

Then a woman emerges from the shadows. She's wearing the skimpiest bikini of all, and instead of arms, she has two massive assault rifles grafted to her shoulders.

"Is this the best character?" I ask, amused.

"Mila Molotova," Whiskey says with a nostalgic sigh as she spins in a graceful pirouette, gun-arms blazing. Everything explodes around her in fireballs, blood, and sand. "My first crush. Had the actress's centerfold hanging up in my bedroom and everything."

"Talk about stereotypes," Valek says flatly.

Whiskey glances back at him. "Back then, we thought you guys were churning out mutated super soldiers. So, uh… yeah. Sorry."

Valek blows a puff of air through his nose. "Not me. "

I stare at the screen, transfixed by the absurdity unfolding before me as I eat way more than my fair share of popcorn. Mila Molotova struts across the dusty landscape after wiping out half of Brick's men, her gun-arms swinging with each exaggerated step. The sight is so ridiculous, I can't help but snort.

"What are you laughin' about?" Whiskey asks, his eyes still glued to the screen.

"Nothing," I mutter, biting back a laugh. "It's just... is this really what people thought the future would be like?"

"Guess we were all optimistic back then," he says with a laugh. "Guess it's campier than I remember. But it's great, huh?"

I do find myself oddly captivated. The movie isn't good, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there's something comforting about its sheer ridiculousness. It's so over the top, for a little while, I can forget about the reality of our world.

Maybe I could get used to this.

I burrow deeper into Whiskey's side, snaking an arm over his soft belly and breathing in his scent. He smells like gunpowder and beer. Behind us, Valek's cold smoky scent, like frost on stone. He's been so quiet, I have to wonder if he's even still awake. When I glance back at him to check, I realize he's not watching the movie at all.

He's watching me , a strange ghost of a smile on his lips.