Page 239 of Unhinged Omega

"My goddess," Raven says, turning to me with a tired smile that somehow still manages to light up the room. "You look absolutely radiant this morning. That shade of burgundy might be my favorite on you yet."

I roll my eyes, but can't suppress the warmth that creeps up my neck. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

"On the contrary," he replies with a wink. "It's gotten me plenty of places." He turns to Knight, his smile faltering slightly. "And good morning to you, too... um, the Knight. You look especially... calm today."

Knight growls low in his chest. I reach back to pat his arm, silently asking him to behave. It helps that Raven is clearly making an effort, despite his obvious exhaustion and lingering fear.

"Just Knight," I tell him.

Raven nods. "Knight it is, then. I apologize for my tardiness," he continues, accepting a plate from Geo with a grateful smile. "But I have something that might make up for it." He produces an envelope from inside his jacket, holding it out to me with a flourish. "A gift, of sorts."

I eye it warily. "If this is a gift certificate for another dress?—"

"While I would adore seeing you in every color of the rainbow, this is a gift of a more...practicalnature." His eyes sparkle with amusement. "Go on. Open it."

Taking the envelope, I carefully break the seal and extract several sheets of paper. The language isn't Reinmichian, but Surhiiran—elegant, flowing script that I can only partially decipher. I read slowly, picking out words and phrases.

Outpost... western territory... attack... single intruder... casualties...

"This is a soldier's report to his supervisor," I murmur. I've glanced over my father's shoulder often enough to recognize that. "What does it have to do with Azarel?"

"You can read Surhiiran?" Raven asks, surprise evident in his voice.

"A little." I shrug, still scanning the document. "I had access to my father's library. And nothing else to do most days."

Raven clutches his chest dramatically. "Immeasurable beautyandbrains? I may faint."

"Save the fawning for your growly boyfriend, Prince Charming," I retort, gesturing toward Geo, who glares half-heartedly at me over his mug. "What does this mean? I'm only getting bits and pieces."

Raven sighs, sliding onto the stool beside me. Knight growls in warning, and Raven makes a show of keeping his hands on the counter in front of him, where the larger alpha can see them. "I haven't been able to find Azarel directly," he admits. "But my scout made contact with the soldier who wrote that report. One of the survivors at the outpost you were being held at, before the Ghosts transferred you to our feverish friend down the hall."

Hope flutters in my chest. Dangerous, fragile hope that I've barely allowed myself to feel since I escaped from Nikolai's compound.

"The royal family has forbidden any mention of Azarel's name directly," Raven continues, tapping a section of the report, "but the man who attacked the outpost—theoretically in search of you—matched his description perfectly. A tall Surhiiran man with long black hairand..." he drops his voice, "... fighting skills that, according to my scout, were 'otherworldly.'"

"That sounds like him," I whisper, unable to keep the tremor from my voice. Hope is a dangerous thing, especially out here.

"The report is deliberately vague, but reading between the lines, it's clear the attacker was looking for an omega prisoner. One who'd been moved elsewhere."

I frown, focusing on a particular passage. "Wait… why would the Surhiiran royal family care about hiding Azarel's name?"

When I look up, Raven is staring at me with an expression I can't decipher.

It's almost pitying.

"What?" I demand, suddenly defensive.

"You don't know, do you?" Raven murmurs, tilting his head slightly. There's no judgment in his voice, only confusion. Concern.

Even Geo seems confused, pausing with fork mid-air.

"Don't know what?" I ask.

The knot in my throat tightens. There have always been secrets between Azarel and me. Hell, my father and I are the only ones who know his real name, as far as I'm aware. Even then, it's only because I overheard him call Azarel that once, during one of their many hours-long meetings in my father's study.

I never understood why a man like Azarel would work for a man like my father. Azarel possesses the quiet dignity and honor you'd only expect from a world that no longer exists. He’s the polar opposite of a callous merchant who would sell his own flesh and blood for the right price.

Andhas. My marriage to Monty and all the times I served as entertainment as those parties—at least until Azarel caught wind of it—is proof enough of that.

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