Page 84 of Psycho Pack

"Fuck," Whiskey mutters, shaking himself like a dog. "That was close." He shoots Valek a dirty look. "Probably did that on purpose. Asshole."

"Not that time," Valek mutters.

I feel Wraith's arms tighten around me protectively. His chest rumbles with a low growl, steam curling from his sharp teeth in the frigid air. I stroke his arm soothingly, trying to calm him. The last thing we need is for him to lose control again out here.

Thankfully, it works.

We press on, the wind growing stronger with each step. It howls through the skeletal trees, their branches creaking ominously under the weight of snow and ice. Massive icicles hang from every surface, glittering like deadly crystal daggers in the weak morning light. One strong gust could send them plummeting down on our heads.

The beauty of our surroundings is undeniable, but it's a cold, unforgiving sort of beauty. The kind that could kill you in an instant if you let your guard down.

I lose track of time as we trudge onward, the monotony of white broken only by the occasional dark smudge of a tree or rocky outcropping. My thoughts drift, circling back to everything that's happened. To the choice Valek gave me. To the realization that I've chosen this pack of alphas, for better or worse.

A sharp crack jolts me from my thoughts. We all freeze, eyes darting around for the source of the sound.

"Avalanche?" Whiskey mutters.

Thane shakes his head, dark eyes scanning the mountainside above us. "No, that was?—"

Another crack splits the air, followed by an ominous groaning. Before any of us can react, the snow-laden branches of a massive pine give way. They come crashing down mere inchesfrom where Valek is standing, showering us all in a burst of powder and debris.

"Move!" Thane roars.

We scramble forward as more branches snap and fall around us. Wraith's long strides eat up the ground, his powerful body shielding me from the worst of it. I cling to him, heart pounding in my chest as I watch the others dodge and weave through the deadly rain.

When we finally reach a clear patch, we all stop to catch our breath. Valek is sporting a nasty gash on his cheek where a branch must have caught him. Blood trickles down his pale skin, stark against the white backdrop.

"Well," he says, his usual smirk firmly in place despite his ragged breathing. "That was invigorating." He swipes his fingers across his cheek and licks the blood away like a goddamn cat.

I want to smack him.

How can he be so nonchalant when we almost fucking died? But there's a tightness around his silver eyes, a tension in his shoulders that betrays his true feelings.

He's just as shaken as the rest of us.

"We need to keep moving," Thane says, a coating of snow clinging to his shaggy dark hair. "We're too exposed out here."

No one argues.

We set off again, our pace quicker now despite the exhaustion I can see weighing on everyone. The adrenaline from our near miss has worn off, leaving behind bone-deep weariness.

I wish I could walk on my own to ease Wraith's burden. But I know my bare feet would be useless in this terrain. So I do what I can to make myself as light as possible in his arms, ignoring the lingering ache between my thighs from earlier activities.

We've been walking for what feels like hours when Plague suddenly stops dead in his tracks. His entire body goes rigid, pale blue eyes fixed on something in the distance.

I follow his gaze, squinting against the glare of sun on snow.

There, nestled against the mountainside, is the most beautiful train I've ever seen. Its sleek white body gleams even from this distance as it stretches along the mountainside like a serpent, ornate carvings in delicate geometric patterns adorning its sides. A gilded seal marks the engine car, glimmering in the soft morning light. An ibis in flight rendered in gold leaf, its long curved neck arching gracefully over its back as it grasps a lotus flower in its slender beak.

"What is that?" I ask, unable to keep the wonder from my voice. It looks like something out of a fairy tale, not a functional mode of transportation. "I've never seen a train like that before."

Whiskey grins, a spark of hope lighting his eyes. "Hey, maybe we can hitch a ride."

Plague's jaw works, like he's chewing on words he doesn't want to say. "It goes to Surhiira," he finally mutters. "Not Reinmich."

That earns a snort from Whiskey. "Yeah, no shit. And the Shurhidarians would blow our heads off on sight. I know. But let a guy dream, yeah?"

Plague's pale eyes flash dangerously as he turns to glare at Whiskey. The look on his face could curdle milk. "Surhiirans."

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