Chapter 48 – THANE
Chapter
Forty-Eight
THANE
Icatch Wraith's scent spiking with aggression before I even hit the bottom step leading to the pack house gym. The rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack of fists against leather echoes through the concrete space like a war drum.
Wraith's demolishing the heavy bag.
And I mean demolishing.
The thing's swinging wildly on its chain, each impact from his massive fists threatening to tear it from the ceiling mount.
He's wearing a white tank top that's absolutely drenched in sweat, clinging to his scarred torso like a second skin.
Gray sweatpants hang low on his hips, and every muscle in his back and shoulders flexes with controlled power as he lands blow after devastating blow.
I lean against the doorframe for a minute, just watching. For a guy who's seven-foot-plus and built like a fucking mountain, Wraith moves with surprising grace. Each punch is perfectly placed—no wasted energy, no wild swings. Just pure, focused destruction.
The mask covering his lower face can't be comfortable to work out in. But he never takes it off. Not even around me.
"Gonna leave anything for the rest of us to hit?" I call out.
Wraith doesn't startle—he probably heard me coming down the stairs—but he stops mid-swing, letting the bag slow its violent pendulum swing. He turns to face me, chest heaving, his bright blue eyes the only readable part of his face.
Been here awhile, he signs with those massive hands.
"Yeah, I can see that." I step fully into the gym. "You trying to punch your way through to the other side of the building?"
He shrugs, turning his back to me to grab his water bottle from the bench.
He tilts his head back, pulling his mask down just enough to take a long drink.
I can't see his face from this angle—he's careful about that—but I catch the edge of scarring along his jaw before he quickly pulls the fabric back up and turns around.
I sigh. Nearly two decades we've been brothers, and he still won't let me see his face. Not deliberately, at any rate.
How's Ivy doing? I sign, just in case Valek's listening.
His eyes soften at her name, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. Misses me, he signs, gaze flicking to the floor like he doesn't fully believe that.
I bet she does, I sign back. I grab a pair of hand wraps from the rack, starting to wind them around my knuckles. "Speaking of missing people," I say out loud now that the subject's changed, "when you are going to Cedarbrook?"
Wraith goes still. Not the coiled-spring tension from before, but something sadder. His shoulders slump slightly as he signs, Been busy.
"Yeah, all this drama has been eating up time." I keep wrapping my hands, deliberately not looking at him. Sometimes it's easier for Wraith to communicate when he doesn't feel watched. "You should probably visit soon though. It's been a while, hasn't it?"
He nods, those blue eyes looking resigned. Like he's carrying the weight of the world on those massive shoulders.
"You know..." I finish with my wraps and move to the speed bag, giving it a few experimental taps. "You could take her with you."
Wraith's head snaps up and he blinks warily at me.
I-V-Y, I sign to clarify, glancing at the ceiling when I hear the creak of a floorboard I'm sure is Valek prowling around. "Think about it," I continue, finding my rhythm on the bag. "Perfect excuse to get out of the house. Give you some time together."
She wouldn't want... he starts signing, then stops, his hands dropping.
"You don't know that." I pause my workout, turning to face him fully. "Look, I know Cedarbrook is... personal. But Ivy's not like other people. That much is clear. She seems to understand complicated."
Wraith considers this, absently rubbing his knuckles against his thigh. They're already bruised from his assault on the heavy bag.
You come too? he signs hopefully.
"Yeah, sure. We could grab a hotel together." I return to the speed bag, the rapid rat-tat-tat filling the silence. "We could get to know each other better while you do your thing at Cedarbrook."
The relief that washes over Wraith is enough to dilute his still prickly, aggressive scent. Some of the tension he's been carrying since Ivy left drains from his massive frame. He nods slowly, decisively.
When?
"Soon as they get back, if you want." I'm thinking about Ivy's heat cycle, wondering if we need to plan around that or if she's through it by now. But I don't say anything. These walls might not have ears, but with Valek around, I'm not taking chances.
Good idea, Wraith signs, then pauses before adding, Thanks.
"What are brothers for?" I grin, landing a particularly satisfying combo on the speed bag. "Besides, I could use a fucking break from—"
Wraith suddenly stiffens, his entire body going rigid. His finger flies to his mouth through the mask to silence me as his attention shifts to the stairs, those blue eyes narrowing and irritation driving out all the warmth from our conversation.
Two seconds later, I hear it too. Footsteps. Deliberate. Measured.
Fucking Valek.
He appears at the bottom of the stairs like he materialized from shadow, silver eyes taking in everything.
The destroyed punching bag, Wraith's sweat-soaked form, my wrapped hands.
That calculated casualness he wears like armor never slips, but there's something predatory in the way he surveys the room with an unreadable expression.
Wraith's entire demeanor transforms instantly.
The relaxed, almost vulnerable alpha I was just talking to vanishes.
He draws himself up to his full, terrifying height, every muscle in his chest and arms going taut.
He shifts slightly, positioning himself between me and Valek without being obvious about it.
Protective. Always fucking protective. He doesn't need to protect me. I have to fight the urge to roll my eyes.
"Gentlemen," Valek says smoothly, descending the last few steps. "I heard activity and thought I'd investigate. The house feels rather empty without the full pack present."
The comment is pointed. He knows Whiskey and Plague are gone. Knows they've been gone all night. And he's fishing.
"Just getting a workout in," I say, keeping my tone neutral. "You know how it is. Gotta stay in shape for the season."
"Indeed." Valek's gaze slides to Wraith, taking in his intimidating stance. "Quite the impressive display of conditioning. Though I couldn't help but overhear something about travel plans?"
Wraith's growl is too low for normal hearing, but I feel it vibrate through the concrete floor. His hands clench into fists and I can tell he's barely restraining himself from putting one through Valek's head.
"Family shit," I say vaguely. "Nothing exciting."
"Family." Valek repeats the word like he's tasting it. "How unfortunate that you have obligations that would take you away from the team. During such a... transitional period."
The threat is subtle, wrapped in concern, but it's there. He's implying we're planning something. Which we are, but fuck him for being right about it.
Wraith takes a step forward. Just one step, but when you're his size, one step covers a lot of ground. The message is clear. Back off.
Valek doesn't flinch. “Perhaps I could join your workout?” Valek suggests, his tone light but his eyes sharp. “I find myself restless this morning.”
It's a challenge. Plain and simple.
“Speaking of restless, isn’t the point of you being here that you’re supposed to rest?” I ask pointedly.
“I’m an alpha,” Valek says with a sly grin. “I can manage.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah. Sure,” I say before Wraith can do something we'll all regret. "We were just about to move to weights anyway."
Valek strips off his shirt in one fluid motion, revealing a lean, scarred torso.
Not bulk like Wraith, but pure lethal efficiency.
There's a nasty scar across his ribs that looks like a knife wound.
Another on his shoulder that's definitely from a bullet.
A few round burn marks like someone put cigarettes out on his skin.
What the fuck was this guy doing before hockey?
Wraith moves to the bench press, loading it with an obscene amount of weight. Four plates on each side to start. He positions himself under the bar, lifts it off the rack with no apparent effort, and pumps effortlessly.
He's showing off. Making a point.
He racks the weight and adds two more plates per side. Six fucking plates. That's over five hundred pounds. And I know he can do more.
Valek watches with apparent appreciation. "Impressive. Though I've always believed technique trumps raw strength."
"Your turn," I say to Valek as Wraith climbs off the bench, swiping a cloth across his damp forehead, curious to see how he'll respond.
Valek approaches the rack, studying the loaded bar. "Perhaps we could make this interesting? A small wager?"
"What kind of wager?" I ask doubtfully.
"Information." His silver eyes gleam. "For each successful set, we get to ask one question. The other must answer honestly."
Wraith's growl is louder this time. His massive frame tenses like he's about to launch himself at Valek.
"Just training questions," Valek adds smoothly. "Techniques, strategies. Nothing personal."
Bullshit. Everything with this guy is personal. He's hunting for information about Ivy, and we all know it.
But backing down now would confirm his suspicions.
"Fine," I say. "But same weight for everyone, relative to body weight percentage. Keep it fair."
Valek inclines his head in agreement, moving to adjust the weight. He strips off four plates and positions himself. His form is perfect. He completes ten reps without breaking a sweat.
"My question," he says as he racks the bar. "How often does the team train together during off-hours?"
Safe enough. "Three times a week, usually. More during pre-season."
Wraith loads his bar back up to his insane weight, then grabs four more plates.
I open my mouth to stop him before he fucking hurts himself or breaks the pack house in his quest to prove a point to Valek, but it's too late.
He's going for it. The bar bends under the load as he lies back, positioning his hands.
He explodes the weight up with a low growl, controls it down, then presses it again.
And again. Ten perfect reps at a weight that would crush most alphas.
He sits up, his tank top now completely transparent with sweat, every scar on his torso visible through the fabric. His burning blue eyes lock on Valek.
My turn, my brother signs to me, and I translate for him. "Where did you train before this?"
"Various places," Valek replies smoothly, glancing at Wraith. "I've always believed in diverse training environments."
Not really an answer, but Wraith doesn't push it. He's made his point. The display of raw power was the real message.
I move to the pull-up bar, knocking out a quick set while my mind races.
How much longer can we keep this up? Valek's not stupid.
He knows we're hiding something. And with Wraith looking ready to tear him apart at the slightest provocation, it's only a matter of time before this powder keg explodes.
"Interesting form," Valek observes, moving to the bar beside me. "Military background?"
"Something like that," I grunt between reps.
Valek launches into his own set, his form different. More fluid, almost gymnastic. He's showing off too, in his own way. Making it clear he's not intimidated by Wraith's display of strength.
The three of us continue working out, the tension thick enough to choke on.
Wraith moves through exercises that showcase his terrifying power.
Deadlifts that make the floor shake, overhead presses with weight that shouldn't be possible.
Valek counters with displays of flexibility and control.
Muscle-ups, human flags, movements that require incredible core strength and balance.
They're circling each other without actually circling. Measuring. Testing.
And I'm stuck in the middle, trying to keep them from actually killing each other while my mind spins with plans. We need to keep Ivy safe. Need to get her and Wraith away from Valek's constant surveillance. Cedarbrook would work, but the timing has to be perfect.
"One more question," Valek says, finishing a set of weighted dips. His chest gleams with sweat, those silver eyes locked on mine. "When do you expect your teammates to return?"
The question hangs in the air like a challenge.
Wraith stops mid-rep on the cable row, the entire weight stack suspended. His massive back is rigid with irritation.
"When they're ready," I say carefully. "Plague had some personal business. Whiskey went with him for... support."
"Support." Valek tastes the word again. "How thoughtful. Though one wonders what kind of personal business requires such urgent attention. In the middle of the night. With heat supplies from a specialty store."
Fuck.
He knows about the omega store. How the fuck does he know about that?
Wraith drops the weight stack with a crash that echoes through the basement. He rises slowly, turning to face Valek. At his full height, he towers over both of us, his scarred chest heaving with controlled breaths.
The message is clear. Interrogation over.
"Well," Valek says, seemingly unbothered by the wall of muscle and barely contained violence looming over him. "This has been most illuminating. Thank you for the bonding activities."
Valek grabs his shirt, pulling it on in one smooth motion as he heads for the stairs.
He pauses at the bottom, and I think he's going to say something else cryptic and threatening, but instead, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, glances at the screen, mutters a curse under his breath that sounds like “Caleb,” and takes the stairs two at a time.
Then he's gone.
The moment he's out of earshot, Wraith's fist connects with the concrete wall. The impact leaves a crack in the cement. Blood drips onto the gym floor from his split knuckles, but he doesn't seem to notice or care.
"We need to move up the timeline," I say, already grabbing a towel to wrap his bleeding knuckles. I'm almost surprised he doesn't push me away. "The second Ivy gets back, we're going to Cedarbrook."
Wraith nods. He knows too much, he signs with his free hand. Could kill him.
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," I sigh, though part of me knows a fight at the very least is inevitable. Valek's not going to stop digging. And Wraith's not going to let anyone threaten Ivy.
This is going to end in blood.
The only question is whose.