Chapter 17

Chapter

Seventeen

PLAGUE

T he roar of the engine drowns out my thoughts as we tear down the mountain road. Thane's at the wheel, his knuckles white against the steering wheel. Wraith's massive form is hunched in the back, his blue eyes gleaming in the rearview mirror.

I can't shake the image of Ivy standing there, looking so small yet so fierce. It's a distraction I can't afford right now, but my mind keeps circling back to her. To the way she looked at us as we left. To the promise of a conversation when we return.

If we return.

The vehicle lurches as Thane takes a sharp turn, snapping me back to the present. "We're approaching the outpost," he growls, his voice barely audible over the engine and the still-blaring alarms.

I nod, checking my gear one last time. My fingers brush over the various pouches and pockets, cataloging each item by touch alone. Syringes. Bandages. Poisons. Blades. The tools of my trade, equally suited for healing or harm.

The outpost looms ahead, a squat, fortified building perched on the edge of a cliff. As we screech to a halt, the full extent of the situation becomes clear. The valley below is ablaze, orange flames licking at the sky. The empty Council military base, once a symbol of their power they abandoned recently in favor of a base with a better view, now reduced to a smoldering ruin.

"Fuck," Thane mutters, killing the engine. "Who'd be stupid enough to hit an empty outpost?"

I step out of the vehicle, the acrid smell of smoke hitting me even through my mask's filters. "Someone sending a message," I reply, my voice muffled and distorted. "Or setting a trap."

Wraith emerges behind me, his massive form casting a hulking shadow in the firelight. He lets out a low, rumbling growl that needs no translation. He's itching for a fight.

Thane joins us, the white of his skull mask glowing in the firelight and making him look like an actual ghost, not one by name only. "Trap or not, we need to check it out. That's our job."

I nod, but unease coils in my gut. Something about this feels off. Wrong. It's too blatant, too obvious. The Council has enemies, sure, but none stupid enough to announce their presence like this. Not unless they want to be found.

We move toward the outpost in formation, years of working together making our movements fluid and synchronized. Thane takes point, his rifle at the ready. I flank him on the left while Wraith covers our right, his massive hands flexing, ready to rip and tear.

I'm not one to fear death.

Contamination, yes. Death, no.

But I'm feeling uncharacteristically afraid right now. Why? Because I'm afraid something will happen? That I'll never see Ivy again? I've been on countless missions that nearly ended with me in pieces and I never cared like this.

Even Wraith, who barrels into every situation like a beastly wrecking ball with no regard for his own personal safety, is visibly on edge and less detached than usual. His posture is stiff, his eyes flicking around instead of staring off into space. More aware. More cautious.

And that has my nerves frayed more than anything.

The outpost door is ajar, swinging gently in the mountain breeze. Thane holds up a fist, signaling us to halt. He gestures silently, and I nod, understanding his plan without words. I pull a small device from one of my pouches. A custom-made drone, no bigger than my palm. With a few taps on the micro computer strapped to my wrist, it whirs to life, its tiny camera giving us a view of the outpost's interior.

The feed flickers to life on our HUDs. The outpost is empty, eerily so. No signs of a struggle, no blood, no bodies. Just empty desks and abandoned equipment.

"Clear," I mutter, recalling the drone. "But that doesn't mean safe."

The outpost's silence unnerves me. Every instinct screams it's a trap, but we push forward. Our footsteps echo off bare walls, each sound amplified in the emptiness.

I scan for biological traces—blood, hair, skin cells—but find nothing. It's as if this place was scrubbed clean.

Too clean.

A flicker of movement catches my eye. I spin, syringe in hand, ready to inject a potent neurotoxin into whatever—or whoever—dared to sneak up on us.

But it's just a piece of paper, caught in the draft from a broken window. I lower my hand, embarrassed by my jumpiness. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Thane's voice crackles through our comms. "Plague, check the med bay. Wraith, security office. I'll take command."

I nod, even though he can't see me, and head down the corridor. The med bay door slides open with a soft hiss, revealing a room as pristine and empty as the rest of the outpost.

I rifle through cabinets and drawers, looking for anything out of place. But everything's in order, neatly labeled and organized. It's wrong. All wrong.

A soft chuckle breaks the silence. I whirl around, my hand already reaching for one of my blades.

"Easy there, fellow corvid. Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Raven lounges in the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips. His long blond hair is tied back, and his blue eyes sparkle with mischief. He looks like some kind of fallen angel glowing amongst the smoking ruins of the outpost.

I don't lower my weapon. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

He pushes off the doorframe, sauntering into the room like he owns it. "Now, now. Is that any way to talk to the man who just handed you a golden opportunity?"

My eyes narrow behind my mask. " You did this?"

Raven's grin widens, rivaling Valek's in wolfishness. "Guilty as charged. You didn't think I was going to walk up to your government-controlled fortress, did you? I have the information you wanted."

I hear heavy footsteps approaching. Wraith appears in the doorway, his massive form blocking out the dim light. A low growl rumbles from his throat.

Raven's cocky demeanor falters for a moment. "Ah. The strong, silent type. Charming."

Thane's voice cuts through the tension. "Start talking, Raven. What information?"

Raven's eyes flick between us, his smile never wavering. "Information about your little omega problem. About who's really pulling the strings in this fucked-up world of ours. "

My grip on the dagger tightens. "Where's the proof?"

Raven tsks, wagging a finger. "Not so fast. It's not going to be that easy. You're going to have to get it yourself."

Thane steps forward, his skull mask an even starker white than usual in the dim light that casts the rest of him in shadow. "You expect us to believe you without any evidence?"

Raven shrugs lazily. "Believe me, don't believe me. But can you afford not to check it out?"

I glance at Thane, seeing my own doubts reflected in his stiff stance. We can't trust Raven, but we don't have a choice, either. I sense Wraith shifting behind me, a low growl building in his chest.

"Fine," Thane says, his voice tight. "Tell us more."

Raven's cocky smirk returns, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "I believe I made myself perfectly clear when I told you I'm giving you the opportunity to get it yourselves."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I snarl, taking a step forward. Raven holds his ground, but I catch the slight twitch of his hand toward his hidden blade or gun .

"It means," he says slowly, as if he's talking to a child, "that I know where you can find one of the Council members who's knee-deep in trafficking. A guy who'd sell out his own blood—or even his own omega—to save his skin."

"Who?" Thane presses.

"Monty Filch," Raven says, his lips curling into a smirk.

The name means nothing to me, but Thane's gaze hardens.

Raven looks far too pleased with himself, practically preening. "Monty Filch is a beta with... particular tastes. He frequents a brothel in the Outer Reaches, one that caters to those who enjoy being dominated by female alphas. His nearest and dearest kink is being stepped on—when he isn't watching alphas fucking his omega."

I can't help but snort. "A Council beta with a fetish? How cliché."

Thane's eyes tighten in disgust. "And you know when he'll be there next?"

"Three days from now, fifteen minutes before midnight. Monty Filch is nothing if not punctual," Raven says. "The place is called The Alpha's Alpha. Subtle, I know."

Thane crosses his arms. "Yeah, I've heard of it," he mutters. "That area's crawling with mercs and lowlifes."

"Not to mention the fact that none of us exactly fit the clientele," I add dryly.

"I don't know," Thane muses. "You are the prettiest Ghost."

I clench my jaw, irritation prickling under my skin. "You can't be serious."

Thane's eyes crinkle behind his mask, betraying his amusement. "What's the matter, Plague? Don't think you'd look good in a dress?"

"I will poison your next meal," I growl, my hand twitching toward one of my syringes. The urge to stick him with something unpleasant is strong.

Wraith lets out a low rumble that might be laughter. Traitor.

"As entertaining as that mental image is," Raven interjects, "I doubt even Plague's considerable charms could pull off that particular deception."

I turn my glare on him. "You're still here?"

He holds up his hands in mock surrender. "Just offering my expert opinion. But I can see when I'm not wanted." He backs toward the door, his smirk never faltering. "Good luck, boys. You're gonna need it. Oh, and just remember… I'll be calling on you when that favor comes due. "

With that, he's gone, leaving us alone in the sterile med bay.

"Fucking hell," Thane mutters, running a hand over his mask. "That wasn't exactly the intel we were hoping for."

I snort. "You mean the intel he promised? The proof he claimed to have? Yeah, I'd say this falls a bit short."

Wraith growls, his massive fists clenching and unclenching. I don't need to speak his language to know he's itching to chase Raven down and beat the information out of him.

"It's something, at least," Thane says, but his voice lacks conviction. "More than we had before."

"We should get the fuck out of here," I mutter, scanning the room one last time. "This place gives me the creeps."

Thane nods, his skull mask bobbing in the dim light. "Agreed. Let's move out."

We make our way back through the eerily silent corridors, our footsteps echoing off the bare walls. The emptiness of the outpost feels oppressive, like a physical weight pressing down on us. I can't shake the feeling that we're being watched, even though I know it's irrational.

As we step outside, the acrid smell of smoke hits me again, even through my mask's filters. The valley below is still ablaze, the orange flames casting an otherworldly glow over everything. It's a stark reminder of how quickly things can go to shit in this fucked-up world.

We pile into the vehicle, Thane taking the wheel again. When we pull away from the outpost, I catch a glimpse of movement in my peripheral vision. I whip my head around, but there's nothing there. Just shadows and smoke.

"You okay?" Thane asks, his eyes flicking to me in the rearview mirror.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. My heart's racing, and I can feel sweat beading on my forehead beneath my mask. What the fuck is wrong with me?

As we tear down the mountain road, leaving the burning valley behind, I feel the tension in my body start to ease. It's only then that I realize how tightly wound I've been. How close to the edge.

I lean my head back against the seat, closing my eyes behind my mask. The roar of the engine and the whoosh of Wraith's gas mask in the back are the only sounds.

It's almost... peaceful.

And then it hits me like a punch to the gut.

We survived. We walked into what could have been a trap, faced down that smug bastard Raven, and walked out unscathed.

The relief is so sudden and intense it leaves me lightheaded.

"You sure you're okay, Plague?" Thane's voice cuts through my thoughts. "You're breathing like you just ran a marathon."

I force myself to take a deep, steady breath. "I'm fine," I growl, injecting as much irritation into my voice as I can muster. "Just thinking about how we're going to pull off this ridiculous plan of yours."

Thane chuckles, the sound muffled by his mask. "What, you don't think you'd make a convincing female alpha?"

"I will end you," I hiss, my voice dripping with venom. "Slowly. Painfully. With something that'll make you wish you'd never been born."

Wraith lets out a low, rumbling growl that might be laughter. Has he ever laughed before? That's new. I shoot him a half-hearted glare over my shoulder. "Don't encourage him."

Thane's chuckle fills the cab, and we fall back into slightly more comfortable silence as we drive along the winding mountain road. But my mind is still racing.

I've never had an omega to come back to. Someone who might actually give a shit if I didn't make it back.

It's terrifying.

And things are only going to get more dangerous.

Whiskey flashes through my mind. As if he'd care if I made it back. He wouldn't. It couldn't be more clear that what happened between us was a one-time thing for him. Hell, he's enough of a himbo, he probably thinks it was a goddamn dream.

And that's fine, I guess. Half the time, I hate him more than I like him.

Then again, I'm sure Ivy feels the same way about me.