Chapter 6

Chapter

Six

VALEK

T he irradiated desert stretches out before us, a vast expanse of scorched earth and twisted metal as far as the eye can see. The air is hot and dry, stinging my exposed skin with each gust of wind that sends plumes of gritty sand swirling around us.

Beside me, Plague trudges on, his posture stiff and unyielding in the face of these punishing conditions. Even with his face half-covered by the scarf wrapped around his head and neck, I can sense the disapproval rolling off him in waves.

We've both traded our hallmark disguises for more muted face coverings to protect against the harsh winds and toxic dust swirling across the lifeless landscape, but he still looks unnecessarily posh .

"You're sure this underground market actually exists?" he asks, his voice muffled but still managing to convey his patent disdain. So do his pale blue eyes and furrowed brows. "Because all I see is a barren wasteland fit only for the dead."

I snort, adjusting the dark goggles perched on my brow. As if I'd lead us out into this hellish terrain on a whim. "It's here," I assure him, scanning the blasted landscape for any familiar landmarks. "Just a little farther."

Plague mutters something under his breath, too low for me to catch. But I can imagine the sorts of curses he's spitting out behind that mask of his. Self-righteous prick has never approved of my methods or my past.

As if he's so damn pristine himself.

"You know, if you're getting tired, we could always take a break," I taunt, flashing him a sharp grin. "Let you catch your breath, princess."

He stiffens, his gloved hands clenching into fists at his sides. "I'm fine," he bites out, quickening his pace. "And don't call me that."

I chuckle, low and dark in my throat. Getting under Plague's skin is one of my favorite pastimes, a twisted sort of game to alleviate the boredom of these tedious missions .

He's so damn uptight, so convinced of his own moral superiority. It's delicious to poke at those hairline cracks in his armor, to watch him bristle and seethe. Usually, I just leave it to Whiskey. But since he's not here, the job falls to me.

"This is a mission, Valek," he scolds. "One that's crucial to the safety of our pack. So either take it seriously, or get the fuck out of my way."

But before I can goad Plague any further, something catches my eye up ahead. A glint of sunlight on metal, half-buried in the cracked and barren earth. I raise a hand, halting Plague in his tracks as I move closer to inspect it.

A tripwire, cleverly concealed and designed to maim any unwary travelers who stumble too close.

My lips curve into a feral grin as I crouch down, tracing the thin cable with the tip of my blade. Crude but effective—just the sort of vicious trap I'd expect from the lawless scum who frequent this place.

I straighten and gesture for Plague to approach. "Looks like we're on the right track after all, princess."

He glares at me from behind his scarf, his shoulders tense and radiating hostility. "I told you not to call me that," he grits out, storming past me to examine the trap himself. "What is this?"

"Nasty little surprise for any trespassers," I explain, unable to keep the dark glee from my voice. "If you'd stepped on that tripwire, it would have released a cloud of toxic gas right into that pretty face. Corrosive enough to melt the flesh from your bones before you could even start screaming."

Plague goes rigid, his hand flying up to clutch at the fabric covering his mouth and nose. For a moment, I think he might actually be sick.

I throw back my head and laugh, a harsh, mocking sound that echoes off the blasted ruins surrounding us. "What's wrong?" I taunt, taking a perverse delight in his obvious discomfort. "Can't handle a little reality check?"

He whirls on me, his gloved fingers fisting in the front of my shirt as he hauls me closer. The movement is so sudden, so unexpected, that my laughter dies in my throat. His face is mere inches from mine, his breath hot against my cheek as he snarls, "Don't fucking test me, Valek. I'm not one of your victims, and for the record, I voted against you being plucked from death row and added to the team. I won't hesitate to put you down if you step out of line."

Excitement lances through me at the threat, a dark and dangerous thrill that has my pulse kicking up a notch. Violence has always been a lure for me.

And if it were any other occasion, I'd take him up on the challenge. But then there would be a chance, however infinitesimal, that I wouldn't get back to Ivy.

Is this what normal people call common sense?

Huh.

I'll settle for mocking him instead.

"Is that a promise, princess ?" I purr, my voice a low, gravelly rasp.

Plague stares at me for a heartbeat longer, his chest heaving with harsh breaths. Then, with a disgusted sound, he shoves me away, turning on his heel and stalking off in the direction the trap was pointing.

"Just show me where this fucking market is so we can get out of this wasteland," he growls over his shoulder. "The sooner we're done here, the better."

With a low chuckle, I adjust the scarf around my face and set off after him, my boots crunching over the cracked and barren earth. He's already forged ahead, leaving a trail of disturbed dust in his wake like a vengeful spirit passing through this desolate hellscape .

I catch up to him eventually, falling into step beside his punishing pace. He doesn't look at me, doesn't acknowledge my presence beyond a subtle tensing of his shoulders.

Fine by me.

The silence stretches between us, thick and heavy, but not entirely uncomfortable.

At least, not for me. I can tell the quiet is grating on Plague, his every movement radiating a tightly leashed impatience. He wants to snap at me, to lash out with biting words and vicious barbs. Wants to take out all his pent-up frustration. But he holds his tongue, forces himself to remain stoic and professional.

For now.

We both know it's only a matter of time before one of us cracks that fragile veneer of civility. Plague can play the part of the unflappable soldier all he wants, but I can spot the fissures in his figurative mask that allow glimpses of the darkness lurking beneath. He's not as pure and wholesome as he likes to pretend. As he wishes he could be.

He's one of us, through and through.

A monster, same as the rest.

He just hasn't fully accepted it yet .

We've been walking for what feels like hours when I finally spot a cluster of battered metal plates jutting up from the scorched earth, forming a crude sort of hatch. My gaze sharpens, scanning the area for any other signs of the entrance as a slow grin spreads across my face.

"There," I say, nudging Plague's arm to draw his attention. "Told you I knew where I was going."

He follows my gaze, his expression inscrutable behind his scars. For a long moment, he's silent, studying the battered hatch with a critical eye. Probably calculating the odds he'll get tetanus from touching it. Then, finally, he gives a curt nod of acknowledgment.

"Lead the way," he grumbles, his voice flat and emotionless.

I don't need to be told twice.

With a lazy swagger to my step, I grab the rusted out handle that's barely hanging on by a few loose screws and yank it open, the sand and dirt pouring in waterfalls into the black void below. There's a the rust-pitted ladder leading down into the shadows, the faint whir of ventilation fans struggling to cycle fresh air. Judging from the musty stench that wafts up to us, they're doing a piss-poor job.

It's been too long since I've walked these particular shadows, since I've immersed myself in the underbelly of the Outer Reaches and all its delicious depravities.

"Keep close, princess," I toss over my shoulder, unable to resist one last jab before we descend the rickety ladder. "This place is rough for delicate little creatures like you."

Plague doesn't rise to the bait, doesn't even acknowledge my taunt beyond a rumbling growl in his chest. Smart man. He'll need to keep that temper on a tight leash if he wants to survive down here.

With a feral grin, I swing myself over the edge and begin the descent into darkness.

The air grows thick and stale the deeper we tread, the faint whir of the ventilation systems doing little to cycle out the oppressive miasma of sweat, smoke, and desperation that clings to these shadows. I inhale deeply, savoring the familiar reek like a long-lost lover's embrace.

We're in my world now.

This grim and gritty underbelly has always made me feel most at home. No pretty lies or hollow posturing down here, just the raw, naked truth of survival at any cost. It's primal, visceral. Everything stripped back to its basest elements.

Life .

Death.

Pleasure.

Pain.

All commodities to be bought, sold, and indulged in without shame or remorse. And I can't wait to get another taste.

My lips curve into a wolfish grin as my boots finally hit solid ground, the metal grating sending juddering vibrations up my calves. Beside me, Plague lands with a muted thud, straightening to his full height as he takes in our new surroundings.

Even with his face half-concealed, I can read the tension in the rigid set of his shoulders, the way his fingers twitch ever-so-slightly toward the array of sheathed blades hidden at his sides. He's ill at ease here, a wolf among jackals.

"Charming place," he mutters, his distaste obvious even through the muffling of his scarf. He could take it off, but he's probably afraid he'll pass out from the stench of sin. "I can see why you're so comfortable here."

I bark out a harsh laugh, already moving ahead into the dingy corridors that branch off from the entrance chamber. "What's the matter? Places like this make you squeamish?"

"Hardly," he bites out, only to leap back like he's been shot when a fat, squeaking rat squeezes out of a pipe an inch from his boots and darts across his path. He quickly falls into step beside me with that same coiled menace radiating from him in waves. "Just trying to decide if I should be more disgusted by the stench or the company."

I grin, flashing him a mocking look over my shoulder. "Plenty of time for both, I'm sure."

The tunnels are dim and cramped, a dizzying labyrinth of twists and turns that would be impossible to navigate without a lifetime of experience. Flickering industrial lights strung overhead cast everything in a sickly yellow pall, deepening the shadows that seem to press in on us from all sides.

Distant sounds echo all around us. Raucous laughter, muffled shouts, the clang of metal on metal. A veritable symphony of depravity and lawlessness, each dissonant note a siren's call that has my blood boiling with excitement.

Too bad I'm still on an invisible leash.

I'm sure Thane gave Plague the kill switch to my chip. I like my odds of getting it off him better than Thane, but still… it would be a risk. And there's a twisted, fucked-up part of me that doesn't want to escape.

Not without Ivy .

The next time the Council sends her out on a mission with us both, though… all bets are off.

"We getting close?" Plague mutters, his voice tight with barely-leashed tension.

"Relax, princess," I drawl. "The real fun's just getting started."

"Where are we going, anyway?" he growls as we enter a long corridor lined with vendors, each hocking their overpriced and subpar offerings to the disinterested crowd.

"To see an old friend," I call back over my shoulder. "He deals in information, and he'll be able to point us in the right direction."

Plague scoffs, the sound dripping with disdain. "Of course he does. Should've known a sleaze like you would only associate with the dregs of society."

I flip him off without looking back.

The crowd thickens the deeper we plunge into the heart of the black market, the cacophony of sounds and smells reaching an almost overwhelming crescendo. There's not an omega in sight, but I can smell their cloying sweetness joining with far less pleasant cocktails from the alphas and betas teeming in the dank, tight corridors. Probably cloistered in the brothel I know to be further up the market, heavily guarded—and for good reason .

Once upon a time, I might have been tempted to visit it to let off some steam, but the truth is, I haven't even thought about another omega since Ivy. I've never had more than a passing interest in anyone other than her, and even now, the scents I once would have found at least mildly enticing seem sickly sweet and unappealing in comparison to her intoxicating, honeyed scent.

Somewhere up ahead, a roar rises up, the unmistakable surge of bloodlust that can only mean one thing.

My lips curve into a predatory grin as I lengthen my stride, my excitement building with each chant of the crowd.

Plague curses under his breath but follows, his boots ringing against the metal grating as we round the final bend and emerge into a vast, open chamber. A makeshift arena has been erected in the center, a rickety cage of twisted rebar and chain link fencing. Within the rusted confines, two massive alphas are locked in vicious combat, trading blows with ruthless intensity as the crowd bays for blood.

I come to a stop at the edge of the seething mass, crossing my arms over my chest as I drink in the scene with undisguised relish.

This is what I live for .

The thrill of violence made flesh, the intoxicating scent of adrenaline and desperation thick in the air.

Beside me, Plague has gone rigid, his body coiled tight as a whip. He takes in the bellowing crowd, the snarls and grunts of the combatants, the spatters of blood painting the cage in macabre streaks of crimson.

"Don't tell me the mighty Plague is getting cold feet," I say in a cloying tone.

"Fuck off," he mutters, curling his lip slightly as one of the alphas dislocates his opponent's jaw. "What a savage pursuit."

I bark a harsh laugh. "Pays good, though." I give him a nudge to keep walking. "Just try to look a bit less... stuffy . These people can smell uptight morality a mile away."

He scowls at me from behind his scarf. "I'm wearing combat boots. What more do you want?"

I laugh, but I'm already moving, shouldering my way through the throngs until we reach the very edge of the arena. I scan the spectators for the man I'm looking for, and sure enough, there he is in a front row seat, sipping a drink out of a massive iron tumbler with a scantily clad female beta sprawled across his lap .

His black eyes meet mine as if he possesses the same sixth sense that always tells me where an ally—or an enemy—is watching. Geo has been both over the years, but in these parts, we don't keep score. The line between the two is much too thin, and the man who saves your life one day may well be the fucker who ends it tomorrow.

"Well, well," Geo purrs in a deep, smoky voice. "If it isn't my favorite psychopath. Last I heard, the Council gave you a twine necklace."

"They tried, but I've never looked good in natural fabrics," I say dryly, walking over to his table.

He waves off the beta dismissively, ignoring her exaggerated pout, and rises to greet me. His face splits into a wide grin as he reaches out to clasp my hand in a firm shake. "I knew you'd find a way to slip out of trouble, old friend."

"Is that so?" I ask. "And here I heard you bet on me in the dead pool."

He gives a hearty laugh and a firm clap on the shoulder. Geo and I are about the same height, but he's broader and sturdier. Years of fighting in the ring before he realized he could make ten times more running the books. His roguish black hair falls into a hard, chiseled face roughened by more scars than tattoos at this point. The most severe is stark white against his olive skin, cutting a jagged slash through his left eye, which is likely gone beneath the leather patch. I don't know. I never asked. But compared to the rest of these tunnel rats, he's practically a runway model.

"What can I say?" he asks. "A man has to hedge his bets. I hope you don't take it too personally."

"Never," I say dryly. "But I have a way you could smooth things over, if you're so inclined."

Geo barks out another laugh, shaking his head. "Same old Valek. Come on, let's head back to my office. We've got some catching up to do."

As he turns to lead the way, his gaze slides past me to land on Plague, who's still lurking at my back like a skulking shadow. Geo's eyes narrow, his smile taking on a calculating edge. "And who's this pretty boy? Don't think I've had the pleasure."

"This is Poindexter," I say, waving a hand in his direction. "He's new to these parts."

Plague's eyes flicker to me in a bewildered and thoroughly disapproving look. He doesn't need to speak for his message to be clear. Why Poindexter?

I give a subtle shrug. How the fuck am I supposed to know what his real name is? He could be a Poindexter for all I know. Hell, he looks and acts like one. I don't even know if Thane's name is Thane. Although that's a shitty fucking code name. He'd probably pick something far more obnoxious if he had a say in it.

Plague grunts in acknowledgment, but says nothing else. I can practically feel the waves of disdain rolling off him.

Geo just chuckles, unfazed by Plague's stony silence. "Well, any friend of Valek's is welcome here. Follow me, boys."

He leads us away from the arena, shouldering through the press of bodies with practiced ease. I fall into step beside him, Plague trailing behind us.

We wind our way through the labyrinthine corridors, the sounds of the crowd fading to a distant roar. Eventually, Geo stops before a battered metal door, keying in a code on the rusted keypad. The door hisses open, revealing a dimly-lit room filled with mismatched furniture and the reek of stale smoke.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Geo says with a grand sweep of his arm. "Make yourselves at home."

I stroll inside, dropping onto a threadbare couch with casual indifference. Plague remains standing, his posture rigid and his expression inscrutable behind his scarf.

Geo saunters over to a battered metal desk, rifling through a drawer until he comes up with a bottle of amber liquid and three chipped glasses. He pours a generous measure into each, then hands them out with a flourish.

I accept mine with a nod of thanks, tossing back the contents in one burning swallow. Plague just stares at his glass like it might be full of human piss, making no move to take it.

Geo shrugs, setting the glass aside and settling into the chair behind his desk. He leans back, lacing his fingers behind his head as he pins me with a shrewd look. "So, Valek. To what do I owe the pleasure of this little visit?"

"I'm here for information," I say, leaning forward, elbows dropped onto my knees and the empty glass dangling from my fingertips.

His eyebrows lift, curiosity sparking in his gaze. "Well, you're certainly in the right place. But don't tell me, let me guess," he says, leaning back and staring thoughtfully at the ceiling as he swirls the remaining contents of his glass. "Knowing you, it's the kind of information that'll end up with someone dead. So, is it the kind that'll help you kill someone, or the kind that'll get you killed?"

"In this case, it's both," I answer, exchanging a brief glance with Plague.

That earns a raucous laugh from Geo. "Of course it is! I should have known."

I grow serious, pinning him with my gaze. "I need to know if the Council is running omegas, Geo."

Geo goes still, all traces of humor vanishing from his face in an instant. For a long moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his scarred face.

"Now why would you be asking about something like that?" he asks, his voice carefully neutral. "Last I heard, you'd traded your rather illustrious career to be the lapdog of the Council."

There it is.

I'm not surprised he knows more about where I've been than he let on at first. It's his job to know things. And he's good at it. It's the only reason I didn't put a bullet in his skull years ago when I had the chance. I always figured he'd be more useful to me one day alive than dead.

For his sake, let's hope I'm right .

I shrug, the motion casual despite the tension in the room that says this could easily turn into a bloodbath. And just because I can't see Geo's goons doesn't mean we're not outnumbered ten to one. "Call it professional curiosity. I like to know who I'm working for."

Geo scoffs, shaking his head. "Professional curiosity, my ass. I know you, Valek. You wouldn't be asking if you didn't already suspect the answer. Especially when just asking a question of that caliber could get us both killed."

I just stare at him, waiting.

Finally, Geo sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Fine. Yes, I've heard the rumors, and I wouldn't be surprised if they're true. The Council's got their dirty little fingers in all sorts of pies these days."

Plague makes a disgusted noise, drawing Geo's attention.

"What's the matter, pretty boy?" Geo sneers. "Not a fan of the trade?"

"I'm not a fan of slavery," Plague bites out, his voice a low growl.

And I'm sure he's not a fan of dirty little fingers in pies, either.

Geo barks out a harsh laugh. " Well, that's just too bad. Because around here, it's just another fact of life. Especially when it comes to omegas."

Plague's upper lip curls into a slight sneer. "And you're okay with that? Profiting off the suffering of others?"

Geo's eyes narrow, his gaze hardening. "Listen, pal. I don't know who you think you are, but let me make one thing clear. I don't do business with the Council. Not now, not ever. Matter of fact, the only reason I didn't put a bullet between your eyes when you walked in here is because of him," he says, nodding in my direction without taking his eyes off Plague. His mouth splits into a slow, malicious grin. "Smelled soldier on you from a mile away."

Plague's eyes narrow, his hand twitching at his side over his knife, but he doesn't say a word.

"We don't have any plans of sticking around," I say in an attempt to smooth things over. "Once we get what we came for, we're gone."

"You'll be gone for good if your masters on the Council get wind you're asking around," Geo says, cocking an eyebrow.

"Is that a threat?" Plague snarls.

I shoot him a look out of the corner of my eye. Cool it, dumbass.

But he isn't paying any attention to me .

Geo just smirks. "It's a friendly word of warning. As I said before, if it was a threat, you'd already be dead."

"So you don't know for sure if they're dealing in omegas?" I press, steering the conversation back on track.

Geo growls a sigh, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaw. "Not for certain, no. But I wouldn't put it past them. Those bastards will do anything to maintain their grip on power."

He's silent for a moment, considering. Then he leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. "I don't have the answers you're looking for. If the Council is doing this, they're not stupid enough to leave a clear trail. But if proof is what you're looking for, I know someone who might have it."

My interest piques, but I keep a neutral expression. "What's it going to cost?"

"Nothing," he says with a shrug. "In fact, you were never here. I'm not enough of a dumb fuck to leave a paper trail on anything remotely related to the Council, so just keep my name out of your mouth and we'll call it even."

I snort. "That, I can do."

"There's another merc, goes by the name of Raven," he continues, uncharacteristically serious. "He's been running jobs in the Outer Reaches for years, and he's psychotic enough to make runs across the border with your mother country that would have a sane man shitting himself. Has his finger on the pulse of every dirty deal that goes down out there. If the Council is tracking omegas, it'll be through Vrissia, and if anyone knows about it, it's Raven."

"So he's Vrissian, then?" I ask.

"Nope." Geo grins. "No offense, but if you manage to survive the trek, you'll probably want to let your posh friend there handle the introductions. One word in that accent and he'll shoot you dead. Bit of bad blood between him and your homeland, you understand."

"None taken," I say flatly. "Where can we find him?"

Geo shrugs, leaning back in his chair once more. "Last I heard, he was holed up in a safehouse on the edge of the wastes near what's left of Treval. But, Valek... watch your back. Especially if the Council really is involved in this. Those bastards play for keeps."

A dark chuckle rumbles up from my chest, my lips curving into a razor-edged smile. "Don't worry about me, Geo. I'm used to playing with monsters."

I rise from the couch, Plague falling into step beside me as we head for the door. Before we pass through, Geo calls, "And remember, if Raven peels off your skins and makes a nice new coat out of them, I'm not the one who told you where to find him."

I toss a mocking salute over my shoulder, then step out into the dingy corridor beyond. The door hisses shut behind us, the lock engaging with a dull thunk.

Plague is silent as we wind our way back through the labyrinthine tunnels, the sounds of the market fading to a distant hum. It's not until we emerge into the wan light of the surface that he speaks. "Do you trust him?"

"Geo?" I scoff, the sound harsh and derisive. "Trust him? Not a chance. Geo would sell his own mother if the price was right."

Plague's head cocks to the side, confusion evident in his posture. "Then why go to him for information?"

"Because in this business, information is currency," I say with a shrug. "And for all his faults, Geo's information is usually good. He didn't get to be the top dog in the black market by peddling bad intel."

Plague grunts, disgust evident in the sound. "So we're betting our lives on the word of someone who's probably a psychopath."

"Oh, he is a psychopath," I correct him, my voice dripping with amusement. "We wouldn't be friends otherwise."