Page 2 of Unhinged Alphas

Not even Valek.

I can see it in the way he looks at her, but far from putting me at ease, it gives me even more reason to distrust him. The rest of us are pack because we choose to be, but him…

If he decides she's a resource he wants all tohimself, I wouldn't put it past him to put a bullet in every one of our skulls to secure it.

I shake my head, banishing the thought before it can fully form. I can't afford to be distracted, not now. Not when everything is riding on this one gambit.

The roar of engines shatters the tense silence, a plume of snow and icy dust rising in the distance. The convoy, right on schedule.

I feel more than see Wraith tense, since my own eyes are locked ahead as we all fall into position. Valek remains loose and easy, that charming smile never wavering as the vehicles pull up and the leader steps out.

Nikolai.

He's impossible to miss in a thick blood-red overcoat that stands out like a splash of blood on fresh fallen snow, the collar and long V-shaped vent in the back flapping in the frigid wind. A jagged scar runs diagonally across his harsh features from the left side of his forehead to the right side of his mouth, tugging the corner of his lips into a permanent snarl.

His lips twist into a cruel smirk when he comes to stand before us. His cold gunmetal gray eyes, as Vrissian in origin as his choppy white undercut,appraise us briefly through round red lenses—an unnecessarily flashy defense against the glare from the snow—with the disinterest of a cobra who's spit in death's face too many times to give a shit.

And he clearly doesn't, because why the hell else would he be wearing a coat you can see from miles away?

He can't be older than his late twenties, but he still radiates power and arrogance, the kind of alpha who's used to taking what he wants and crushing anyone who gets in his way.

And judging from that scar, he's had no shortage of enemies.

He strides up to Valek, a predator sizing up his prey. I hold my breath, every muscle coiled and ready to spring into action if this all goes south.

But Valek just grins, spreading his arms wide in welcome as he greets Nikolai in flawless native Vrissian. He had joked he might be rusty, but the words roll off his tongue like honey, smooth and sweet. I don't understand a word of it, but I can read the body language well enough.

All smiles and sunshine, like two old friends meeting for a drink.

Nikolai clasps Valek's shoulder, his answering grin just as wide and false. They fall into step,heading toward the guest house as they converse in rapid-fire bursts of that strong yet melodic tongue.

And just like that, the plan is in motion.

I force myself to hang back, to let Valek take the lead as we follow in their wake with Nikolai's men surrounding us like a pack of wolves. It grates against every instinct I have, every fiber of my being that screams to be the one in control.

But I shove it down, locking it away.

This is Valek's show—at least for now.

As we enter the guest house, I can't help but dart a glance back at the mansion. Somewhere up there, Ivy is waiting, hidden away like a precious treasure. The urge to go to her, to reassure myself of her safety, is a physical ache in my chest.

But I can't. Not yet.

The best thing I can do for her right now is to pretend like she doesn't even exist.

Valek leads us into the guest house's sitting room, all plush furnishings and glittering chandeliers. He moves through the space like he owns it, pouring drinks and playing the gracious host with an ease that's almost unsettling. It's a mask, I know, but damn if it isn't a convincing one.

Nikolai and his men settle in, the underlings' laughter booming off the high ceilings as they clinkglasses and toast to their success. Nikolai himself is much less of a barbarian, moving even more gracefully than the already catlike serial killer the entire plan hinges on.

I hover at the edges, every sense on high alert for any hint of trouble. Wraith is a silent shadow at my side, his frigid eyes never leaving Valek even as he reaches up again to check the position of his scarf.

Not just because Wraith hates anyone to catch a glimpse of his scars, either, but because the sight of him unmasked is shocking enough that there's no way it wouldn't set off the convoy's suspicion. I'm sure they've heard rumors that one of the Ghosts is a monster. His actual face is more of a red flag than our masks.

It's a fragile tightrope, this game of deception and double-cross. One wrong move and it would all come crashing down around us. But Valek navigates it with the skill of a master, always seeming to know just what to say, what strings to pull.

"I must say, my friend, when I heard your post was nestled in the peaks of the Redtooth Mountains, I had my doubts," Nikolai says, casting a pointed glance around our lavish surroundings. At least he's finally speaking in a language I can understand. "But this isexquisite."

"It does the job well enough, and the location is convenient with its proximity to the mines," Valek says, pouring his guest another round. "I'm only sorry I can't accommodate you in the main house. The winter has not been kind, and you know how it is trying to find decent building materials with all the sanctions that have been imposed on anyone who isn't born and bred in Reinmich."

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