Page 95 of Psycho Pack

And now he's on the train with us.

What the fuck am I thinking?

As if he somehow senses I'm ruminating over him, Plague gets up and slips from the car without a word. He's probably the only one out of the group—Wraith being the other obvious exception—who wouldn't just mutter, "gotta take a piss," so it wouldn't exactly be suspicious under normal circumstances.

But these are anything but.

And he's been shady as fuck.

When Wraith's blue gaze meets mine and a wordless understanding passes between us, I give a nod and he gets up, following Plague out of the car to keep an eye on him.

My gaze drifts to Ivy again, watching her pick cautiously at a star-shaped purple fruit. The protective instinct that's been simmering just beneath the surface since we rescued her threatens to boil over. I want to turn this damn train around and get her as far from Surhiira as possible.

But I can't.

We're committed now.

And whatever happens is my fucking fault.

I'm so lost in my spiraling thoughts that I don't notice Ivy watching me at first. When I finally feel her gaze on me, I blink, startled to find her sea-green eyes studying me with concern.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly.

The gentleness in her voice catches me off guard. I'm not used to anyone worrying about me, least of all our omega. My first instinct is to brush off her concern, to maintain the stoic facade I've spent years perfecting. But something in her expression makes the words die in my throat.

"I'm fine," I manage, but the lie tastes bitter on my tongue.

Ivy frowns, clearly not buying it. Without a word, she gets up, gathering her oversized robe like a flowing skirt, and crosses the compartment to where I'm sitting. My breath catches as she settles onto the plush cushion beside me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from her small frame.

"You don't look fine," she says, her voice low enough that only I can hear.

I open my mouth, ready to deflect again, but the genuine concern in her eyes makes me hesitate. When was the last time anyone bothered to ask how I was feeling? When was the last time I let myself be vulnerable enough to answer honestly?

"I..." I start, then falter.

How can I explain the storm of doubt and fear raging inside me?

How can I admit I feel like I'm failing them all?

Failingher.

Ivy waits patiently, her presence a steady anchor beside me. She doesn't push, doesn't demand. Just offers silent support that I didn't even realize I needed.

Finally, I let out a heavy sigh. "I'm… worried," I admit roughly, keeping my voice down even though I'm sure the other alphas can hear every word. "About all of this. About where we're headed. About what we're getting into."

She nods, understanding dawning in her eyes. "You feel responsible," she says. It's not a question.

"Iamresponsible," I growl, frustration bleeding into my tone. "I'm supposed to be the leader. Supposed to keep everyonesafe. And now we're walking into God knows what because I didn't ask enough questions. Because I didn't push hard enough for answers."

Ivy's small hand comes to rest on my arm, the touch sending electricity through my veins. "You can't control everything," she says softly. "Sometimes we have to let go and trust each other, even when it's hard."

I snort, unable to keep the bitterness from my voice. "Yeah, but look where that's gotten us so far. One of our own betrayed us. Another's keeping secrets that could get us all killed. And I..." I trail off, swallowing hard against the lump forming in my throat.

"And you what?" Ivy prompts gently.

"And I don't know if I'm strong enough to protect you all," I whisper, the admission tearing something loose inside me. "Any of you. What if I fail? What if I can't?—"

Ivy's fingers tighten on my arm, cutting off my spiral of self-doubt. "Hey," she says firmly, waiting until I meet her gaze. "You haven't failed anyone. You got us out of that facility. You kept us alive in that storm. And now you're doing everything you can to keep us safe, even when you're not sure of the path ahead."

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