Page 90 of Psycho Pack

Especially since they're all looking to me.

Even Thane.

When didthathappen?

"We'll deal with it later," I mutter, feeling weirdly awkward under the collective weight of all their stares. "I don't know what I think right now, and I'm not going to know for a while. Okay?"

Valek's silver eyes glint like he's about to gloat and change my fucking mind, but before anyone can say anything in response, the compartment door slides open again.

This time, it's a man who enters.

He's massive, his broad shoulders straining at a crisp white suit and his strong features partially hidden behind the intricately embroidered white scarf covering his lower face except for the edges of a dark beard. Unlike the attendant from earlier, his presence commands attention. There's an air of authority about him that has everyone tensing up again.

But then he gives a slight, stiff bow.

"I trust you're finding everything to your satisfaction?" he asks, his accent lilting and musical. Posh, even. Not what I expected from an alpha who looks like he could turn the average man into bone dust with a single punch.

Thane squares his shoulders. "Yes, thank you. We appreciate your hospitality."

The man inclines his head slightly. "Good. We will reach Surhiira in six hours."

Whiskey shifts in his seat, his brow furrowed. I can practically see the gears turning in his head.

Oh no. I know that look.

He's about to say something.

And knowing Whiskey, it could be anything from brilliantly insightful to catastrophically stupid.

"I've got a question," he says, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

Everyone goes rigid. Thane's jaw clenches so hard I'm afraid he might crack a tooth. Plague's eyes narrow, his fingers tightening around the delicate teacup he's holding. Wraith's hands tense like he's preparing for a fight.

I hold my breath, waiting for whatever's about to come out of Whiskey's mouth.

Please, for once in your life, think before you speak...

"Why are you letting us go to Surhiira?" Whiskey asks, his tone surprisingly measured. "I mean, no offense, but a little bird told me it's pretty damn hard to get in."

I blink, taken aback.

That... was actually a good question.

I glance at the others, seeing my own surprise mirrored on their faces. Well, except for Plague. His expression is as unreadable as ever, but there's a tension in his shoulders that wasn't there before.

The man in the suit stares at Whiskey for a long moment, his pale blue eyes unblinking and his face seemingly expressionless behind his embroidered scarf. The silence stretches, growing more uncomfortable with each passing second.

Just as I'm about to break it myself, the man's gaze shifts.

To Plague.

My breath catches in my throat as I watch the silent exchange. There's something in the man's eyes, a knowing glint that sends a chill down my spine. Plague meets his gaze steadily as he sets down his teacup. His index finger twitches slightly.

"He didn't tell you?" the man in the suit asks.

My heart starts racing. Tell us what? What does he know that we don't? I look to Plague, silently pleading with him to explain,to say something, anything to dispel the growing unease in my gut.

But he stares out the window instead.

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