Page 10 of Unhinged Alphas

"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 amongrunners. 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 omegasshipped 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 bootscrunching 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.

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