Chapter 34 – IVY #2
Whiskey grins sheepishly. "Yeah, uh… sorry about that," he says to me. In spite of his grin, he seems sincere. He does strike me as someone who'd be prone to laughing when he's nervous.
"It's fine," I say. "Don't do it again."
His grin falters. "Got it."
Even if Wraith doesn't mind, I don't think I'd want them in the loft.
Not yet. I need to get to know these alphas on my own terms, on my own time.
Getting to know them in an enclosed space doesn't sound like a good idea, even though the same instincts that were right about Wraith are telling me the other three Ghosts are safe, too.
Although Whiskey seems like a wild card.
"What if we just get rid of Valek?" Whiskey suggests suddenly, confirming that. "A little 'accident' on the ice, career-ending injury..."
"Nobody is killing anyone," I say firmly.
"I didn't say kill," Whiskey protests, though his expression suggests that's exactly what he was thinking. "Just... permanently remove the problem."
"No," I say again. "No violence, no 'accidents,' no anything. That's the deal. Either you respect my boundaries, or this—" I gesture between all of us, "—doesn't work. You might be my scent matches, but I'm not afraid to do whatever I need to do to protect myself."
Whiskey deflates slightly and looks like he's about to say something else instead of putting his foot in his mouth, but Thane cuts in.
"We'll follow your lead on this," says Thane. "You have our word."
"All of us," Plague adds, shooting Whiskey a look.
Whiskey raises his hands in surrender. "I get it, I get it. No unauthorized alpha bullshit. Scout's honor. But if Kelly ever actually tries to come here to find you, all bets are off." He looks to me. "Is that fair?"
I nod. "That's fair."
"So it's settled," Thane says. "Wraith and Ivy stay in the loft. We keep Valek away from any sign that there's an omega here." He checks his watch. "We have less than two hours to make this happen."
The sudden sound of the doorbell makes us all jump.
"Shit," Thane mutters. "That'll be the furniture delivery. Then the contractors are coming to fix the living room we destroyed." He runs a hand through his shaggy dark hair. "We need to move fast."
"I'll help with the deliveries," I say, standing up. When everyone stares at me, I add, "What? I can at least be useful."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Plague asks. "If Valek arrives early..."
"He won't," Thane says confidently. "I told Coach he needs to give me a ten-minute warning or my brother's going to take issue with it." His lips quirk into a slight smile.
Wraith huffs a growl in agreement.
"Then let me help," I insist. "I'm guessing you guys only have experience destroying a living room, not arranging it."
The sheepish looks confirm my suspicion.
"I—we appreciate your help if that's something you want to do," Thane says, his dark eyes studying me. It's strange to see someone so powerful looking uncertain. "The loft door has to be our first priority, though. We need to make sure it's secure before Valek arrives."
I nod, understanding the urgency. It feels surreal discussing how to hide myself from a potential threat while sitting around a kitchen table eating breakfast, like we're planning a surprise party instead of orchestrating my disappearance.
"We should bolt it from the inside," Plague adds. "That way it will be structurally sound. The bolts need to be installed on the loft side, preferably with planks over it for good measure."
Thane glances at Wraith. "Would you be alright with me going up to the loft to install the bolts?" he asks carefully.
But Wraith doesn't hesitate. He nods right away.
"I'll need to go up too," Plague says. "I have more experience with structural reinforcement. We'll need to ensure it can't be detected or accidentally discovered."
Wraith shifts slightly in his chair, his thigh pressing more firmly against mine beneath the table. I glance up at him, catching the question in his eyes. But he nods at that, too.
"Then it's settled," Thane says, rising from his chair. "Plague and I will secure the loft entrance. Whiskey, you help Ivy with the deliveries, but—" his voice drops, taking on an edge that makes Whiskey straighten, "—remember what we discussed. Boundaries."
Wraith stands too, his massive presence suddenly filling the kitchen. He signs something to Thane.
"I know," Thane responds. "You're staying with her. That's a given. I wasn't suggesting otherwise." He hesitates, glancing between Wraith and Whiskey. "Just try not to put any more holes in the walls."
Whiskey's grin doesn't falter, but his eyes sharpen with understanding. "Crystal clear," he says, going to the door to let the delivery service in and sign paperwork.
I watch as Thane and Plague gather tools from a nearby closet, preparing to seal up the loft door.
The reality of what's happening starts to sink in.
I'm about to be literally locked away in a secret room to hide from an alpha who might expose my location to my abusive ex.
It's like something out of a gothic story, except I'm not some helpless heroine waiting to be rescued. I'm choosing this.
As they head for the stairs, Whiskey bounds back into the kitchen, practically vibrating with energy. "You ready to interior design the shit out of this place?" he asks me.
I roll my eyes, but I can't help but smile at his enthusiasm even though I clobbered him with a hockey stick just twelve hours ago. "Yeah. It'll give me something to do."
We head to the front door where contractors are bringing in tools and two burly men are unloading a truck filled with furniture.
Whiskey starts directing them and helping with the heavier stuff, pointing to where each box and piece should go until I can figure out a layout.
I'm impressed by how efficiently he manages the process, despite his earlier antics in the kitchen.
"Where do you want the sectional?" one of the delivery men asks, gesturing to a massive L-shaped couch.
I study the living room, trying to envision the best layout. "Let's put it against that wall," I say, pointing. "It'll open up the space more."
Whiskey grins at me. "Look at you, all HGTV and shit."
"I used to watch a lot of home renovation shows," I admit, feeling a pang of nostalgia for simpler times.
His expression softens. "Hey, we'll do our best to make this place feel like a sanctuary for you. Promise."
The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard. I'm not used to alphas being genuine. At all. "Thanks," I murmur, unsure how else to respond.
Whiskey keeps up a steady stream of chatter as we arrange furniture, telling me stories about the team and their antics. It's clear he's trying to make me feel comfortable even though I'm too stressed to absorb most of it, and I appreciate the effort.
The sound of power tools from upstairs isn't doing much for my nerves, and I don't fully realize how much the drilling and hammering sounds were freaking me out until they stop and Thane and Plague come back downstairs. Thane's expression is grim as he checks his phone.
"Valek's on his way," he announces. "We've got about fifteen minutes."
My heart rate kicks up a notch. This is it. Time to disappear again.
"The loft is secure," Plague adds. "We reinforced the door and disguised it as part of the wall with quick-drying spackle that will at least be white by the time Valek gets here. No one will find it unless they know exactly where to look."
I nod. "Thank you," I say, meaning it. "All of you."
Whiskey steps forward, looking like he wants to hug me but restraining himself. "We've got your back, Ivy. Whatever you need."
"I know," I say. And I do know, somehow. These alphas might be virtual strangers, but there's a connection here I can't deny. Whether it's the scent match or just their genuine desire to help, I'm not sure. Maybe both.
Thane clears his throat. "Before you go up, I was wondering if it would be alright to give you our numbers. And maybe add you to the pack group chat, too." He hesitates. "Only if you want, of course. No pressure."
I'm not sure myself. Having a direct line to all of them could be useful, but it's also a level of connection I'm not sure I'm ready for.
Then again, I'm about to be locked in a loft with one of them.
Might as well at least read the chat even if I don't say anything.
I could spot red flags more easily that way, too.
"Okay," I agree. "But I'm going to mute the chat if it's going off all the time."
Whiskey grins a little. "Oh, it does."
I glance around at the four alphas surrounding me, each watching me with obvious hope.
It's a strange feeling, being the center of this intense focus after months of working so hard to be invisible.
Part of me still wants to run, but another part—the part that slept safely in Wraith's arms last night—wants to give them a chance.
"I'm not promising anything," I say carefully. "But I'd like to get to know each of you. Individually. When it's safe."
Whiskey's face lights up with an unguarded smile that reminds me of an excited golden retriever. "Fuck yeah." He seems to catch himself, toning down his enthusiasm when Wraith shoots him a warning look. "I mean, that's cool. Whenever you're ready."
"We'd appreciate that opportunity," Thane says. "At your pace, of course."
Plague's reaction is more subtle, just the slightest easing of tension in his posture, but I sense his interest nonetheless. He nods. "Texting might be a good way to start. You could talk to us without having to be in the same space."
"True," I agree, nodding. "I don't want to talk one-on-one yet, though. Group chat only, at least for now."
Thane pulls out his phone, more quickly than I'd expected from the serious alpha. "What's your number?" he asks.