Chapter 13 – IVY #2
I have to sit down halfway through dressing, my head swimming and limbs heavy with lingering fatigue. The illness has taken more out of me than I realized. My body is still fighting off the last of whatever virus knocked me down.
Apparently, knocking out an alpha with a fire extinguisher took every last drop of the tiny amount of energy I'd recovered. Whatever adrenaline that had given me, it's more than worn off by now.
I finish getting dressed and take a deep breath, steeling myself for whatever comes next. When I open the door, I find Wraith standing over Valek's still-prone form, watching him with all the wary intensity of a predator monitoring an interloper on his territory.
"I'm ready," I say hoarsely, my voice catching in my throat. Feels like I'm saying I'm ready to jump out of a plane. Without a parachute.
He turns at the sound of my voice with a resigned sigh and pulls his black hooded sweatshirt over his head in one fluid motion, revealing his muscled upper body.
Holy fucking shit.
My breath catches in my throat again, but for an entirely different reason this time. I can't help it. I knew he was strong—that much was obvious—but seeing him like this, the raw power evident in every line of his body, is something else entirely.
Wraith is built like a god carved from stone. Broad shoulders and massive arms that could carry the world, his toned waist tapering down to a perfect V-shape. His chest and abdomen are sculpted and hard even at rest, flexing subtly with each still slightly ragged breath.
When I manage to drag my gaze away from his muscled torso, I notice the webbed scars spreading down from beneath the fabric covering his throat, covering his collarbone and upper chest. The scars are a pale pinkish tan near his throat where they're the most severe, but as they span outward like a lightning strike, they turn pearly, almost iridescent in the dim light where they're thin enough to show hints of the muscle beneath.
The moment he realizes I'm staring at him, something changes. Those mountain-like shoulders curl inward slightly, and he raises a hand to his chest, fingers brushing self-consciously over the scarred skin. His blue eyes flick away from mine.
Oh gods. He thinks I'm staring because I'm disgusted by his scars rather than struck speechless by his beauty.
As if anything could detract from… well, that.
And yet, despite this alpha's obvious immense strength, when he approaches, his movements are gentle, almost hesitant, like he's afraid I'll bolt if he moves too quickly. He holds out the sweatshirt, and I realize he's offering it to me.
"For me?" I ask, stupidly.
He nods.
This feels… intimate. But I guess it'll be warm. And it'll cover my scent.
I take the sweatshirt, the fabric still warm from his body heat.
It smells like him—that wild mountain forest scent that's become so oddly comforting to me since wrapping myself in the blanket he brought last night.
I slip it on over my uniform, and it engulfs me completely.
The sleeves hang past my fingertips, and the hem falls all the way to my knees.
I must look ridiculous.
But Wraith doesn't laugh. Instead, he nods in approval, his gaze softening, then reaches out to pull the hood up over my head. His rough fingertips brush the side of my neck as he carefully tucks my damp hair inside the hood, and an unexpected shiver runs down my spine at the contact.
Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and something unspoken passes between us. Then he steps back, breaking the strange tension.
He pulls his phone out of the pocket of his black pants and types something surprisingly quickly for someone with such huge hands. I catch a glimpse of what appears to be a group chat, complete with emojis for each member, as he sends the text.
WRAITH
winger in locker room needs doctor
THANE
??!!?!
WHISKEY
Bro, noooo! Not another winger!!
Before I even get a chance to ask any questions, Wraith bends down and hoists Valek's unconscious body over his shoulder with surprising ease, as if the alpha who's nearly as tall as he is weighs nothing at all.
He adjusts his grip, then turns to me and points back down the corridor, in the direction of my hidden nest.
"You want me to wait in my nest?" I guess. "While you take Valek upstairs?”
Wraith nods.
"Okay," I agree, not seeing much alternative. "I'll get my stuff."
Wraith watches me for another moment, like he wants to say something else, before adjusting his grip on Valek and lumbering down the corridor toward the main part of the arena.
When they disappear around the corner, I turn and head back toward my hidden sanctuary. The familiar path through the maintenance tunnels feels different now. More exposed, more dangerous. Like the walls themselves have betrayed me by allowing Valek to find me.
I reach my door, which is still broken from Wraith using his shoulder like a battering ram to get to me, and slip inside.
I'm probably going to use up every last bit of my strength to haul furniture in front of it to block it, but I don't have much of a choice.
By the time I'm finished with my makeshift barricade, I'm panting, and I plop down to check my security monitors.
Wraith is still making his way through the corridors, Valek still slung over his shoulder.
No one else appears to be around, at least not in the areas my cameras cover.
No one heard all that, then.
I glance around at the space that has been my home for the past two months. My nest of stolen blankets and team merchandise. The cobbled-together security system. It had felt safe once. Safe enough, at least. Now, all of it seems so precarious, so painfully temporary.
But then, I always knew it would be.
I just didn't think it would end so soon.
With a shivering sigh, I start gathering my meager possessions.
It doesn't take long—everything I own fits into a single backpack.
Clothes, toiletries, a few books I'd managed to scavenge, the small amount of cash I've saved.
I dismantle my security setup, wiping the devices as best I can to remove any evidence of my presence in case anyone comes in here.
I have to pause twice during the process, my vision blurring around the edges as exhaustion creeps in. My hands shake as I zip the backpack closed. If I were on my own right now, I'd be utterly vulnerable—too weak to defend myself, too slow to run.
This is insane.
I know it's insane.
But so is staying here.
At least with Wraith, I have a chance. A small one, maybe, but a chance nonetheless. He's had plenty of opportunities to show he's a typical alpha, and so far, he hasn't. Not even when I huddled against his body all night and then stood in front of him wearing nothing but a towel.
And I know it's not just that my omega brain is enjoying the warmth and scent of his sweatshirt a little too much as it hangs off me like a dress.
I can at least get my bearings at the pack house and regain some of my strength before figuring out my next move.
I've spent so long being afraid, so long running from alphas, that I don't know what to make of one who seems determined to help me.
Especially a feral alpha everyone else is clearly terrified of.
Then again, maybe that's a good thing.