Chapter 3

Chapter

Three

VALEK

I step out of the mansion with Thane, Wraith, and Plague flanking me after a night of restless sleep and trading watches. Whiskey is inside, keeping an eye on Ivy.

This is it.

The moment of truth.

I force my features into a neutral expression, the easy smile of a gracious host sliding into place like a well-worn mask. Nikolai and his men are already gathered by their vehicles, loading up the last of their gear. They turn as we approach, assessing, calculating.

"Prytel," Nikolai calls out, a grin splitting his scarred face. "I must thank you again for your hospitality. It's been a pleasure doing business with you. "

I incline my head, the picture of polite gratitude. "The pleasure was all mine," I assure him, the words rolling off my tongue with practiced ease. "I hope this is the beginning of a long and profitable partnership."

Nikolai nods, clapping me on the shoulder with a familiarity that sets my teeth on edge. "As do I, my friend. As do I."

He bought it.

I wasn't sure last night. But the deception held, and we're one step closer to infiltrating their operation. Even as the thought crosses my mind, though, Nikolai's expression shifts, turning serious.

"There's something else," he says, his voice low as he pulls me aside, out of earshot of the other Ghosts. "Something I wasn't going to mention until I had the chance to feel you out."

I tense, every muscle coiling tight.

But Nikolai doesn't accuse, doesn't pull a weapon and demand answers. Instead, he leans in closer, his breath hot against my ear. "As a fellow countryman, I feel I owe you a warning," he murmurs. "The Council... they've been edging into our line of business. And not in a good way."

Confusion flickers through me, chased by a growing sense of unease. The Council, involved in the black market? They're supposed to be the ones fighting against the criminals, not joining their ranks.

On second thought… every asshole in power is a hypocrite, so that makes enough sense.

"What do you mean?" I ask, keeping my voice carefully neutral. "The arms deals?"

Nikolai shakes his head, a humorless chuckle escaping him. "Among other things," he says cryptically. "Omegas included."

I stare at him in shock before the mask slips back into place.

Omegas?

The Council is trading in omegas ?

It was one thing when we found out they knew about the atrocities of the Refinement Center, but that's all perfectly legal in their fucked up little utopia. Actively participating in the very thing they used to justify stripping the freedom from everyone within the so-called protection of Capital City?

Now that would make one hell of a headline.

Assuming Nikolai is telling the truth, of course. Perhaps it's a test to see how I react.

"You're sure about this?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.

Nikolai's eyes narrow. My heart rate kicks up a notch, but I keep my expression neutral, waiting. Better to not act like I'm kissing his ass if I want my act to be believable.

He nods. "One of my contacts was approached by a Council member. Wanted to start shipping omegas into Reinmich."

Those greedy little sons of bitches.

He's telling the truth. I can sense it.

"Why?" I ask.

"Said there was a shortage of 'eligible brides' and they needed to boost the population. Which isn't any worse than the Reinmich breeding facilities if you ask me—but word is some of the omegas face a far worse fate when the alphas are finished using them."

"And what fate is that?" I ask, dreading the answer.

His mouth twists into a bitter smile. "Innocent flesh can be enjoyed in more ways than one, if you catch my drift."

My stomach churns in rare revulsion. "Did your contact take the deal?"

Nikolai barks out a harsh laugh. "Of course she did," he says, shaking his head. "There's no such thing as morality in the Outer Reaches. Not among runners. But there is a bullet waiting for the Council bastard if he tries to double-cross her."

I nod, forcing myself to mirror his casual cruelty even as my stomach churns with revulsion. I'm hardly soft, but my strange attachment to Ivy has apparently fucked with my mind and the idea of anyone treating her like a trinket to be bought and sold… makes me want to dig my hands into someone's ribcage and rearrange some things until the rage simmers down.

"Smart man," I mutter.

"Well, I won't keep you any longer," Nikolai says, already turning back to his men. "Take care of yourself out here, Prytel. And… watch your back. The Council is not to be trusted."

"I'll keep that in mind," I reply, watching him rejoin his convoy.

And then they're gone, their vehicles kicking up a cloud of snow, dirt, and ice as they speed away down the winding mountain road. I stand there, watching until the last vehicle disappears from view, my mind reeling with the implications of what I've just learned.

I turn to face the others as they walk closer, their expressions a mix of confusion and concern. Thane's eyes narrow, sensing my unease. "What did he say? "

And just like that, the balance of authority shifts back between us, the pretense of last night's charade lifted. I'm the junkyard dog on his leash. And that's exactly what this damn chip embedded at the base of my skull functions as. One wrong move, one attempt at running, and he can drop me with the push of a button.

My tongue feels heavy, the words refusing to form. How do I even begin to explain this? I've killed without remorse, tortured without hesitation, but this... this feels different.

Wrong on a level I can't quite articulate.

"The Council," I finally manage, my voice low and gravelly. "They're trafficking omegas."

The words hang in the air, sharp and poisonous. Plague's pale eyes widen and Wraith lets out a low, menacing growl that rustles the tattered scarf covering the lower half of his face. Thane's face hardens, his jaw clenching so tight I can almost hear his teeth grinding.

"Explain," Thane demands, his voice cold as ice.

I rake a hand through my hair, struggling to find the right words. How do I explain something I barely understand myself?

"Nikolai claims the Council's been approaching black market runners," I begin. "They want omegas shipped into Reinmich. Supposedly to boost the population, and to give as playthings to their powerful allies. He implied there is…" I hesitate, having trouble recalling the word in the midst of my revulsion. "Cannibalism."

Plague's eyes narrow. "That doesn't add up, and to be quite honest, that sounds like a particularly insane claim. The Council has always maintained strict control over omega breeding programs."

"I'm not saying it's true, I'm just saying what he told me," I say, holding up my hands.

Wraith snarls, his massive frame vibrating with barely contained rage. I get it. We might be monsters, but we've always believed we were fighting for something.

At least they do. I just tell myself that to make myself feel like less of a coward for not digging the chip out and running like fucking hell.

I'm sure this has shaken them far more than it's shaken me. These are alphas that like to think of themselves as at least halfway decent, however far that may be from the truth.

Thane more than anyone. So the fact that he's gone dead silent, those dark eyes more unreadable than they ever have been, isn't a surprise.

Thane begins to pace as usual, his boots crunching in the snow. "He's a gun runner," he mutters. "He could be lying."

"He could," I agree. "But given what we know about the activities your father has openly sanctioned, does it really sound so far-fetched?"

"Fuck," Plague breathes.

I watch as the others process this bombshell, their reactions a mix of disbelief and barely contained rage. It's almost amusing, in a twisted way. We're killers, all of us. Monsters by any reasonable definition. And yet here we are, shocked by the depths of the Council's depravity.

Thane's pacing grows more agitated, his boots carving angry paths through the snow. "We need to verify this," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "If it's true..."

He doesn't finish the thought. He doesn't need to. We all know what it means if the Council is truly involved in omega trafficking. Everything we've fought for, every mission we've carried out in their name, becomes tainted.

Meaningless.

A lie.

Everything we've done has been utterly pointless .

And to make matters worse, we have Ivy to worry about now.

It's fucked up. I know it is. I shouldn't care. She should be nothing to me. Just another mission. Another body to keep alive because we were ordered to. I'm not like the others, clinging to some misguided notion of honor or duty. I'm here because it's better than a cell or a grave. Nothing more.

And yet I can't shake the image of her being sold off, passed from one set of greedy hands to another. The thought of her fierce blue-green eyes dulled by despair, her spirit broken the way she was when Thane brought her to us...

It makes me want to set the whole fucking world on fire.

"We protect what's ours," I find myself saying, the words slipping out before I can stop them. The others turn to look at me, surprise evident in their expressions. I'm not known for my protective instincts.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

I shrug, trying to play it off. "If we fail Ivy, it's no better than putting a bullet in her skull ourselves. And if the Council is actually involved in this shit, she's never going to be safe as long as we're under their thumb. Or your father's," I say, meaning it as a direct challenge as I meet Thane's gaze head on.

He holds it for a moment before nodding slowly, a rare concession. "Agreed," he says finally. "We protect our omega. No matter what."

"So what's the play?" Plague asks, folding his arms over his chest. "We can't exactly confront the Council about this."

"No," Thane agrees, his expression grim. "For now, we keep this to ourselves. We need more information before we make any moves."

I nod, forcing myself to focus on the practicalities. "I'll reach out to some of my contacts," I offer. "See if I can get anything."

Thane looks at me sharply. "Be careful," he warns. "If the Council catches wind that we're digging..."

He doesn't need to finish the thought. We all know what happens to those who cross the Council. Even their pet monsters aren't immune.

"Always am," I reply with a smirk, though there's no real humor behind it.

As we head back into the mansion, my mind races with possibilities, each more grim than the last. If the Council is involved in omega trafficking, what other secrets are they hiding? How deep does this corruption go?

And more pressingly, what the fuck are we going to do about it?

The Council has no idea what they've unleashed. What vengeful demons they've awoken with their betrayal. But they'll learn.

And may God have mercy on their souls when we come for them.

Because we sure as hell won't.