Page 205 of Psycho Pack

I breathe a sigh of my own and the other Ghosts relax visibly. I lean up on my toes, pressing a kiss to Wraith's jaws through the mask, and I hope the bitch sees. "I'm proud of you," I whisper so only he can hear, smoothing my hands down his chest.

My emotions sharpen to serrated edges as I turn back to the omega who's still cowering in the corner, looking like she just saw a demon crawl out of the pits of hell. And I fucking hate that she's not the only one who looks at him like that.

"What… what is he?" she chokes out, unblinking.

Fresh rage blossoms in my chest. "We're done with the nice way," I say, drawing my blade again. It makes a satisfyingsniktsound against its holster on the way out. I saunter over to Cosima, brushing past Thane's outstretched hand and ignoring the way he calls my name like he's worried I'm going to do something crazy.

Heshouldbe worried.

I can barely hear him over my heart thundering in my ears.

"Ivy, we need her alive," Plague says in a wary tone.

"Oh, she'll be alive," I say, my voice sounding unusually calm, given the situation. "I won't cut off anything vital."

"A woman after my own heart," Valek purrs.

"Shut up," I snap.

Cosima's self-preservation seems to have kicked in and she snaps out of the trance she was in a second ago, flinching away from my knife. "I'm sorry," she blurts out, holding up her manicured hands. They're trembling. Good. "I thought… I thought he was someone else."

I freeze at her words.

Is she bluffing to save her ass?

No… she sounds sincere.

But that leaves even more questions.

"That'd be a first," Whiskey mutters under his breath.

Thane elbows him in the side so I don't have to, hard enough that he wheezes.

"What do you mean, you thought he was someone else?" I spit, every word laced with venom.

Cosima hesitates, her gaze traveling surreptitiously between me and Wraith. He's pressed himself back into the furthest corner of the cell now and I can tell he's trying to hide from Cosima behind the others.

One step forward, two steps back.

But at least he's not flying into a panic-induced rage like he usually does when he loses his mask.

That's progress.

Alotof progress.

"Nothing," Cosima says, looking down at the floor, her icy composure back in place.

Too little, too late.

"Answer me," I say through my teeth, pressing the blade to her throat. She freezes and stops breathing, clearly terrified to move.

She knows I'm not bluffing.

She's that smart, at least.

Her lips part and her breath falters on them, and I can tell she's trying not to swallow. But there's still spite in her eyes as they meet mine. And if I'm not mistaken, a hint of grudging respect.

"His…face," she says, choosing each word carefully, as if she knows her life depending on it. "I've… seen it before. Someone like him. Sharp teeth. Blue eyes. Scars. And I thought…" She shuts her eyes, her brows knitting together as if she's suddenly more afraid of whatever she's seeing behind them than me.

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